Little Miss PICC-y

Today I bid farewell to an old friend, affectionately known as Little Miss PICC-y. Goodbye to the little dangly patch right above my left elbow.

Goodbye to the little sock covering it every day so the dangly didn't catch on everything or poke out.

Goodbye to weekly flushes and dressing changes.

Goodbye to sutures pulling on the skin of my arm.

Goodbye to three-minute showers with Glad Press 'n Seal and cloth medical tape (3 boxes!).

Goodbye to 3/4-length sleeves.

Goodbye to not being able to sleep on my left side without my heart going into flutters.

Goodbye to flinching anytime anyone grabbed my left arm.

Goodbye to not being able to lift weights and my lost guns.

Today I started my maintenance chemo--a 10-minute IV of vincristine once a month and a bunch of pills. (which means I'll have to get an IV once a month. and weekly blood draws where they now have to poke me.) Hooray!

The new me--Little Miss Somersault
(note her long ponytail... my dream hair-do)

Gorgeous

My nieces use that word to describe very beautiful things, like pashminas and jewelery and fancy dresses. I love it.

This morning my oncologist used it to praise my blood counts. "Your labs are GORGEOUS!" he said, all in caps, with an explanation point. Higher than he even predicted. This little body is a fighter! Hooray!

He did say that I have 60-year-old bones, due to all the steroids and chemo that has pumped through my body. I'm to begin exercising. A lot. And drink a lot of milk. HOORAY! Who wants to go running tomorrow with a baldy with neuropathy in her feet? I may be slow but I'll be out there! (unless it is entirely too hot and humid. Sorry to disappoint.)

The plan is to start my maintenance phase in a week and a half. One IV-shot a month, with a blood draw, and then just pills! And my PICC line (affectionately known as Little Miss PICC-y) will come out after that first day! I only need to see my oncologist every three months! I told him I would miss him. But not too much.

On other fronts, as I drove to the hospital this morning I passed a man in his car with a parrot on his shoulder. Alas, no photo. I took a picture in my heart, though.

On another front, I just lit a match and it broke in half, the flaming end falling onto my skirt, before falling to the ground and burning out. Yes, it burned a hole through my skirt. The nerve! Who does that?!?