Joined Jul 2017
You can call me Maria! I have been a fan of the X-Men since I can remember and you can check out my X-Men fancomic NeXt Genesis here!
I am also undergoing a stem-cell transplant due to Hodgkin's Lymphoma and I will be blogging about the process here in hopes of perhaps helping someone in a similar situation.
Faith, hope and love ... and the greatest of these is love.
Best,
Maria
- 1
Transplant process (Aug. 2)
Being sick is miserable; being sick during summer vacation, now that's just cruel.
I sorry, peeps, but for the past three days I've been in and out bed and consciousness. I really can't describe how it feels to have the Holy Trinity of nausea, vomiting and night terrors throwing a full-on rager inside you body. Sometimes vomiting's little cousin - named Dry Heaves.
Dry Heaves is annoying. Yes! we know your at sister's party, but stop trying to socialize. *gah*
Dieraha looked like she MIGHT be easy and then *bam* Nope, for the next 40-72 hours, you're perched on the edge of a commode.
Vomiting is a more straightforward kind of guy. Once he splits I am usually prone over my toilet.
Night terrors are in a class of their own. Do they suck? Yes, but they're kind of unusual... Well, sitting on commade can only be SO exciting - especially in the day prior to the smart phone. In the day of the Romans communal toilets were very common the past 24 alone in here I've talked to Wayne Newton, John Lennon, Jay-Z and Olivia Newton John.I talked with Jay-Z at some length about good pie.
That was fun. What was'nt was when I thought S'nead Occoner was leaning over my bed.
This morning I'm feeling better. Fingers-crossed. Smooth sailing down the engraftment canal!
I love you,
Maria
Being sick is miserable; being sick during summer vacation, now that's just cruel.
I sorry, peeps, but for the past three days I've been in and out bed and consciousness. I really can't describe how it feels to have the Holy Trinity of nausea, vomiting and night terrors throwing a full-on rager inside you body. Sometimes vomiting's little cousin - named Dry Heaves.
Dry Heaves is annoying. Yes! we know your at sister's party, but stop trying to socialize. *gah*
Dieraha looked like she MIGHT be easy and then *bam* Nope, for the next 40-72 hours, you're perched on the edge of a commode.
Vomiting is a more straightforward kind of guy. Once he splits I am usually prone over my toilet.
Night terrors are in a class of their own. Do they suck? Yes, but they're kind of unusual... Well, sitting on commade can only be SO exciting - especially in the day prior to the smart phone. In the day of the Romans communal toilets were very common the past 24 alone in here I've talked to Wayne Newton, John Lennon, Jay-Z and Olivia Newton John.I talked with Jay-Z at some length about good pie.
That was fun. What was'nt was when I thought S'nead Occoner was leaning over my bed.
This morning I'm feeling better. Fingers-crossed. Smooth sailing down the engraftment canal!
I love you,
Maria
Transplant process (July 24)
Post-transplant - finally - completely anticlimactic and tasted like tomato soup (don't ask). But in fact many people who witness a transplant pick up on garlic or onion smells/tastes.
It felt like a very boring exorcism with nurses hanging out chatting while all this super freaky stuff is happening to my body.
I'm growing a new immune system - sorta like having a new baby, I guess, except it's going to suck. But that's just it - it's a transition. This isn't permanent; it's just a step into a new life.
Parts of it will suck. Others won't. But none of these experiences will be wasted on me. I'll learn from them. I'll get stronger and do better.
Be blessed and I love you,
Maria
Post-transplant - finally - completely anticlimactic and tasted like tomato soup (don't ask). But in fact many people who witness a transplant pick up on garlic or onion smells/tastes.
It felt like a very boring exorcism with nurses hanging out chatting while all this super freaky stuff is happening to my body.
I'm growing a new immune system - sorta like having a new baby, I guess, except it's going to suck. But that's just it - it's a transition. This isn't permanent; it's just a step into a new life.
Parts of it will suck. Others won't. But none of these experiences will be wasted on me. I'll learn from them. I'll get stronger and do better.
Be blessed and I love you,
Maria
Transplant process: (July 22)
It's been a tough week. Five straight days of chemo and being trapped indoors is driving me insane. Sleep deprivation is also an issue. I'm drawing like nuts, trying to distract myself before my transplant Monday.
I am beyond scared, dreading what is to come AFTER the transplant - fever, mouth sores, infection, etc. I am praying hard that I'm spared those horrors.
I dunno if check-ins with my daughter are a good idea or not. I miss home desperately. Rebekah went to her cousin's birthday party this afternoon. I should have been there.
Can I make it home for her birthday on the 3rd?
It's been a tough week. Five straight days of chemo and being trapped indoors is driving me insane. Sleep deprivation is also an issue. I'm drawing like nuts, trying to distract myself before my transplant Monday.
I am beyond scared, dreading what is to come AFTER the transplant - fever, mouth sores, infection, etc. I am praying hard that I'm spared those horrors.
I dunno if check-ins with my daughter are a good idea or not. I miss home desperately. Rebekah went to her cousin's birthday party this afternoon. I should have been there.
Can I make it home for her birthday on the 3rd?
Transplant process (July 20)
Took a bit of a breather there, eh? Which means I have a lot to share. Checked in to the BMT Unit night before last. First round of chemo that night was VICIOUS. Which, according to the doc and nurse, was a weird reaction. Horrible bone pain/sinus pain like someone had punched me in the face. Ugh.
It's a one-time drug tho, so YAY? Yesterday's round and this morning's seems much better, just fatigue and nausea. Well, better ... as far as chemo goes which is ... yuck.
Any rate, going to bed earlier, walking more and waking every four hours at night? Sounds like breastfeeding regime again. Haha.
The unit requires a password which my husband had to write down. Does the unit change its password every so often like in Gryffindor House? If so, I teased my husband that he might be like Neville, jotting down all the passwords to have it come back to bite him.
My coming to the BMT Unit felt a great deal like the beginning of the Shawshank Redemption. I felt a smidgeon like Tim Robbins when I first got here; by midnight when I was crying to go home I felt like the fat guy who gets beaten.
All I needed was a crowd of veteran BMT'ers shouting "New FISH! New FISH!"
Took a bit of a breather there, eh? Which means I have a lot to share. Checked in to the BMT Unit night before last. First round of chemo that night was VICIOUS. Which, according to the doc and nurse, was a weird reaction. Horrible bone pain/sinus pain like someone had punched me in the face. Ugh.
It's a one-time drug tho, so YAY? Yesterday's round and this morning's seems much better, just fatigue and nausea. Well, better ... as far as chemo goes which is ... yuck.
Any rate, going to bed earlier, walking more and waking every four hours at night? Sounds like breastfeeding regime again. Haha.
The unit requires a password which my husband had to write down. Does the unit change its password every so often like in Gryffindor House? If so, I teased my husband that he might be like Neville, jotting down all the passwords to have it come back to bite him.
My coming to the BMT Unit felt a great deal like the beginning of the Shawshank Redemption. I felt a smidgeon like Tim Robbins when I first got here; by midnight when I was crying to go home I felt like the fat guy who gets beaten.
All I needed was a crowd of veteran BMT'ers shouting "New FISH! New FISH!"
Transplant process (July 14)
I want to shout out to the AMAZING and wonderful medical staff at SEAMC and UAB. They are THE MOST fantastic, professional, funny, upbeat, hilarious, geeky and downright standout peeps I have met on this weird and sad journey thru cancer and I love them. They gave me plentiful reasons to laugh, smile and hope. If you read this any of you, you Rock!!!
I want to shout out to the AMAZING and wonderful medical staff at SEAMC and UAB. They are THE MOST fantastic, professional, funny, upbeat, hilarious, geeky and downright standout peeps I have met on this weird and sad journey thru cancer and I love them. They gave me plentiful reasons to laugh, smile and hope. If you read this any of you, you Rock!!!
Transplant process: (July 12)
Today I awoke at 4:30 a.m. (to excruciating back pain, no less. Go away, back pain!) I had to be at outpatient surgery at 6 a.m. for my stem cell catheter implant. I found I had lost almost 10 pounds! (I'm down to 136 pounds; I was about 146 last month. Not good.)
I imagined I'd breeze thru the catheter implantation surgery ... or at least sleep thru it. Nope! It hurt like the dickens. I prayed three times during that surgery. Once when the fellow doc kept groaning in frustration, again when an elderly doc (who probably weighed as much as I do) shoved my head and told me sternly to "Stay down!" and last when the fellow doc asked what I would do in this situation. The hell should I know?!
Any rate, the surgery went as well as could be imagined and I got a consolation prize: a turkey sandwich and a free pair of socks! I had eaten exactly one bite of sandwich when I was whisked away on "my carriage" as one nurse called it to the stem cell collection theatre where med students asked various questions of my RN that I frankly didn't want to know the answers too.
Such as: Why was my once beautiful blood now the color of cream-of-tomato soup? What does it mean when the patient's face starts tingling? I sulked in silence and ate the rest of my turkey sandwich which was the bright point in my day.
This day of fun and excitement followed Tuesday's Mozibil shot (which gives one raging diarrhea) and Sunday's Neulasta shot (which I believe I've described its suckiness, but as a refresher it involves achiness, fevers, chills and general miserableness).
It doesn't chemo suck, but it sucks. It's the Rhianna to chemo's Beyonce.
William made me feel better by taking me to Vulcan Park Sunday so I could stare at the naked buttocks of a 56-foot-tall Roman blacksmith god. Will's got my number ...
On the plus side, my stem cell collection nurse stated my counts look good, so we may wrap this business up today!
Today I awoke at 4:30 a.m. (to excruciating back pain, no less. Go away, back pain!) I had to be at outpatient surgery at 6 a.m. for my stem cell catheter implant. I found I had lost almost 10 pounds! (I'm down to 136 pounds; I was about 146 last month. Not good.)
I imagined I'd breeze thru the catheter implantation surgery ... or at least sleep thru it. Nope! It hurt like the dickens. I prayed three times during that surgery. Once when the fellow doc kept groaning in frustration, again when an elderly doc (who probably weighed as much as I do) shoved my head and told me sternly to "Stay down!" and last when the fellow doc asked what I would do in this situation. The hell should I know?!
Any rate, the surgery went as well as could be imagined and I got a consolation prize: a turkey sandwich and a free pair of socks! I had eaten exactly one bite of sandwich when I was whisked away on "my carriage" as one nurse called it to the stem cell collection theatre where med students asked various questions of my RN that I frankly didn't want to know the answers too.
Such as: Why was my once beautiful blood now the color of cream-of-tomato soup? What does it mean when the patient's face starts tingling? I sulked in silence and ate the rest of my turkey sandwich which was the bright point in my day.
This day of fun and excitement followed Tuesday's Mozibil shot (which gives one raging diarrhea) and Sunday's Neulasta shot (which I believe I've described its suckiness, but as a refresher it involves achiness, fevers, chills and general miserableness).
It doesn't chemo suck, but it sucks. It's the Rhianna to chemo's Beyonce.
William made me feel better by taking me to Vulcan Park Sunday so I could stare at the naked buttocks of a 56-foot-tall Roman blacksmith god. Will's got my number ...
On the plus side, my stem cell collection nurse stated my counts look good, so we may wrap this business up today!
Transplant process: (July 9)
Neulasta shot this morning. Hooray! Weird thing to get syked about, but I didn't have to wear the dreaded Neulasta patch. Neulasta patches rank about 6 on the Cancer Treatment Suck-O-Meter (scale of 1-10, 10 being "life is an effin nightmare." Especially with a very grabby toddler it's good not to have stabby needle packets dangling off of your person.
Any rate, yesterday was MORE blood workups (seriously, I don't think I even HAVE enough blood to meet the doc's requirements) and the Bone Marrow Biopsy (Duh-duh-duuuh)!
Everything was taken/put in via my port. Ports are clunky and annoying, but when you really need them, dang do they come in handy, especially for me because my veins suck and most people seem to think I have something to do with that.
I had "happy juice" put in me by "Mr. Beard," my biopsy coordinator (seriously his beard was fleck) who promised, "It will just make you a little happy, it won't put you out." I proceeded to sleep six dang hours.
There was also a CT scan I was told, but I was honestly too sleepy to remember any of it.
Cancer Treatment is a bit like being drunk except no point in the process is in any way gratifying. At least drunkards feels happy at SOME point. Cancer Treatment is all the bad, painful and embarrassing parts of being drunk.
How unfair.
In my last entry I forgot to talk about my transplant doc. She is short, sassy, blond and weirdly reminds me of Professor Sprout from Harry Potter. She's wearing a new "Harry Potter" themed lanyard at each visit. I've seen her three times now and I'm beginning to wonder if she has more. How big of a nerd is she? I say that while only intoning the greatest admiration and respect for someone who seems like a bigger geek than me.
Welp, tomorrow is a "day off" from the Eight Levels of Cancer Treatment Hell.
Good night for now,
Maria
Neulasta shot this morning. Hooray! Weird thing to get syked about, but I didn't have to wear the dreaded Neulasta patch. Neulasta patches rank about 6 on the Cancer Treatment Suck-O-Meter (scale of 1-10, 10 being "life is an effin nightmare." Especially with a very grabby toddler it's good not to have stabby needle packets dangling off of your person.
Any rate, yesterday was MORE blood workups (seriously, I don't think I even HAVE enough blood to meet the doc's requirements) and the Bone Marrow Biopsy (Duh-duh-duuuh)!
Everything was taken/put in via my port. Ports are clunky and annoying, but when you really need them, dang do they come in handy, especially for me because my veins suck and most people seem to think I have something to do with that.
I had "happy juice" put in me by "Mr. Beard," my biopsy coordinator (seriously his beard was fleck) who promised, "It will just make you a little happy, it won't put you out." I proceeded to sleep six dang hours.
There was also a CT scan I was told, but I was honestly too sleepy to remember any of it.
Cancer Treatment is a bit like being drunk except no point in the process is in any way gratifying. At least drunkards feels happy at SOME point. Cancer Treatment is all the bad, painful and embarrassing parts of being drunk.
How unfair.
In my last entry I forgot to talk about my transplant doc. She is short, sassy, blond and weirdly reminds me of Professor Sprout from Harry Potter. She's wearing a new "Harry Potter" themed lanyard at each visit. I've seen her three times now and I'm beginning to wonder if she has more. How big of a nerd is she? I say that while only intoning the greatest admiration and respect for someone who seems like a bigger geek than me.
Welp, tomorrow is a "day off" from the Eight Levels of Cancer Treatment Hell.
Good night for now,
Maria
Transplant process: (July 6) continued:
Stem-cell transplant 101: brought to you (and me) by my transplant coordinator via a two-hour class that involved cuddly cartoon characters that represent my white blood cells.
I will note that my transplant coordinator looks a lot like Jean Grey and, yes, I was dying to tell her that and, no, I did not because my life is in these people's hands and I don't want to come off as creepy nerd-girl.
Which I am.
*Ahem* My stem-cell transplant would withdraw stem-cells from my bone marrow, preserve them, then zap me with high doses of chemotherapy to kill my cancer, murdering my immune system in the process (blah) then introduce the stem cells back into my body to give me a new immune system.
It all sounds pretty dang sucky to be honest.
That is a brief summary of my cancer journey so far. Today began the process of the stem-cell transplant: signing consent forms, pulmonary function tests and two long hours of class explaining exactly how much this process will suck which is A LOT.
Tomorrow will involve a bone marrow biopsy which I think will rate a solid 5 on the cancer treatment Suck-O-Meter (1 being "meh" and 10 being "life is a f*$#ing nightmare.") I'll also have the latest of many blood workups and CT scan. So ... fun.
Well, fun compared to chemotherapy. But then I think being chased by angry goats is better fun than chemotherapy and I have experienced both scenarios.
Good night for now,
Maria
Stem-cell transplant 101: brought to you (and me) by my transplant coordinator via a two-hour class that involved cuddly cartoon characters that represent my white blood cells.
I will note that my transplant coordinator looks a lot like Jean Grey and, yes, I was dying to tell her that and, no, I did not because my life is in these people's hands and I don't want to come off as creepy nerd-girl.
Which I am.
*Ahem* My stem-cell transplant would withdraw stem-cells from my bone marrow, preserve them, then zap me with high doses of chemotherapy to kill my cancer, murdering my immune system in the process (blah) then introduce the stem cells back into my body to give me a new immune system.
It all sounds pretty dang sucky to be honest.
That is a brief summary of my cancer journey so far. Today began the process of the stem-cell transplant: signing consent forms, pulmonary function tests and two long hours of class explaining exactly how much this process will suck which is A LOT.
Tomorrow will involve a bone marrow biopsy which I think will rate a solid 5 on the cancer treatment Suck-O-Meter (1 being "meh" and 10 being "life is a f*$#ing nightmare.") I'll also have the latest of many blood workups and CT scan. So ... fun.
Well, fun compared to chemotherapy. But then I think being chased by angry goats is better fun than chemotherapy and I have experienced both scenarios.
Good night for now,
Maria
Transplant process: (July 6)
Hi everyone. I'm currently undergoing a stem-cell transplant process due to Hodgkin's Lymphoma and I want to journal the process in hopes of helping someone in a similar situation.
Today was a long drive to UAB (coming off the heels of my latest treatment of Adcetris yesterday in Dothan) so tonight I feel majorly "blah."
I was first diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma last April when a lump appeared above my clavicle. My sweet daughter, Rebekah, was only 6 months old at that time. She came into my life between a painful miscarriage and cancer and I consider her my wonderful miracle baby.
After various biopsies and scans, I underwent ABVD chemotherapy treatments in Dothan, Alabama. My oncologist doc is extremely upbeat and bouncy (both literally and figuratively) and she kinda reminds me of a character from the Cosby Show. She is a good doctor full of enthusiastic energy. I adore her.
After a round of ABVD which took about seven months, I underwent radiation treatment in Dothan as well. My radiation doc wore an Auburn University button on his stethoscope and loved to talk about shots. (Not the ouchie kind) He is very humorous.
I completed radiation in February. My husband and I celebrated by going out for sushi. But, then again, I don't need a reason to eat sushi.
Following yet another PET scan, I discovered my cancer had relapsed and I was in need of new treatment (this time thru Adcetris) and a stem-cell transplant.
Adcetris is pretty good meaning it's better than ABVD. ABVD SUCKS majorly. Adcetris wipes me out with fatigue - like want to sleep for 18 hours fatigue - and it gives me neuropathy in the legs, feet and toes but then IT'S NOT ABVD which makes me feel like pure horse crap with nausea, vomiting, fatigue and mouth sores. UGH.
What I dreaded was the stem-cell transplant which seemed to me like ABVD on steroids.
I'll do my best to describe that to you in my next entry.
Stay safe and good night,
Maria
Hi everyone. I'm currently undergoing a stem-cell transplant process due to Hodgkin's Lymphoma and I want to journal the process in hopes of helping someone in a similar situation.
Today was a long drive to UAB (coming off the heels of my latest treatment of Adcetris yesterday in Dothan) so tonight I feel majorly "blah."
I was first diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma last April when a lump appeared above my clavicle. My sweet daughter, Rebekah, was only 6 months old at that time. She came into my life between a painful miscarriage and cancer and I consider her my wonderful miracle baby.
After various biopsies and scans, I underwent ABVD chemotherapy treatments in Dothan, Alabama. My oncologist doc is extremely upbeat and bouncy (both literally and figuratively) and she kinda reminds me of a character from the Cosby Show. She is a good doctor full of enthusiastic energy. I adore her.
After a round of ABVD which took about seven months, I underwent radiation treatment in Dothan as well. My radiation doc wore an Auburn University button on his stethoscope and loved to talk about shots. (Not the ouchie kind) He is very humorous.
I completed radiation in February. My husband and I celebrated by going out for sushi. But, then again, I don't need a reason to eat sushi.
Following yet another PET scan, I discovered my cancer had relapsed and I was in need of new treatment (this time thru Adcetris) and a stem-cell transplant.
Adcetris is pretty good meaning it's better than ABVD. ABVD SUCKS majorly. Adcetris wipes me out with fatigue - like want to sleep for 18 hours fatigue - and it gives me neuropathy in the legs, feet and toes but then IT'S NOT ABVD which makes me feel like pure horse crap with nausea, vomiting, fatigue and mouth sores. UGH.
What I dreaded was the stem-cell transplant which seemed to me like ABVD on steroids.
I'll do my best to describe that to you in my next entry.
Stay safe and good night,
Maria
Hello all! This is the heading for Page 1 of Chapter 1 of my comic NeXt Genesis. Rebecca and Tom - the "Bird Kids".
They are twins (Tom being 3 minutes younger than his sister). They are both about six years old here. Rebecca is into falconry. She's had an intense interest in everything raptor since she was a baby. Rebecca has a variety of raptors - like barn owl (pictured here), screech owl, goshawk and her favorite, the peregrine falcon.
Tom, her twin brother, was born with the beautiful wings of a spotted owl - thus his nickname OWL. He's a bit of a goofball and loves dressing up like a superhero (under the alias of OWL) and annoying his sister.
Colored in prismacolor; I hope it doesn't suck too much.
Hope you enjoy! I'll hopefully have Page 1 of my comic up by the end of this week. I haven't felt well today.
Characters and art belong to me.
They are twins (Tom being 3 minutes younger than his sister). They are both about six years old here. Rebecca is into falconry. She's had an intense interest in everything raptor since she was a baby. Rebecca has a variety of raptors - like barn owl (pictured here), screech owl, goshawk and her favorite, the peregrine falcon.
Tom, her twin brother, was born with the beautiful wings of a spotted owl - thus his nickname OWL. He's a bit of a goofball and loves dressing up like a superhero (under the alias of OWL) and annoying his sister.
Colored in prismacolor; I hope it doesn't suck too much.
Hope you enjoy! I'll hopefully have Page 1 of my comic up by the end of this week. I haven't felt well today.
Characters and art belong to me.
