Big C Update

In the early 80s, there were two recurring characters on Saturday Night Live that were particularly memorable. Joe Piscopo and Robin Duke played Doug and Wendy Whiner, a couple who -- as you might guess -- whined about everything. (Well, in the early 80s it was funny, especially if you were stoned.) I haven't said much about The Big C lately because, even to myself, I'm starting to sound like Wendy Whiner:
My baaack hurts.
My nuuumbers suck.
My riiibs hurt.
My hiiips hurt.
My nuuumbers still suck.

I justify my crankiness by reciting to myself my litany of treatment over the last 18 months:

• radiation
• chemo
• prep for stem cell harvest
• port insertion
• blood clot from port insertion (which felt like a rusty harpoon sticking out of my neck and was probably the worst of the whole stem cell experience!)
• stem cell harvest
• big, hairy mega-chemo followed by stem cell transplant
• port explosion and replacement
• spinal surgery
• more chemo
• and yet more chemo

But so what if some or all of the whining is justified? What's the point? Doesn't endear me to anyone. Doesn't make me feel any better. I skipped my support group meeting last month, afraid that if I opened my mouth, Wendy would speak. I'm feeling a little more confident today, especially after venting here, so I'm going to a meeting tonight. My feelings about the group's usefulness to me fluctuate wildly, but they are all wonderful, sincere people. Even if I did channel Wendy Whiner, they'd probably still be caring and supportive (at least the first time).

Following my post about what I believe was my last chemo, I received a note from a fellow MM patient who has been through a rough time recently. I was comforted to hear her say she knew what I was feeling, but she cautioned me not to give up yet, and I know I will at least hear what the doc has to say, and listen with an open mind.