We Are Here…

3 sessions of chemotherapy completed. 1 pre-surgery CT Scan completed. That’s not all, but those seem like the most important ones for now…

Next thing to worry about is surgery on April 13th… and then more chemo for the summer. The last CT Scan showed that the chemo is working! The tumors are shrinking! And I am ready for my surgeon to take them all out… After surgery, I will have at least 3 more sessions of chemo, but I will also have some genetic testing and testing of the tumors and those things will inform my care going beyond chemo. Still a lot of unknowns, but things are looking good!

Be sure to sign up for my newsletter before my surgery as Christian will be sending and posting some updates while I’m in the hospital. —–>

ID: Kate looks over her glasses, like she’s smart or something. Teal heart earrings and purple in ear headphones.

A little more about Chemo:

Chemotherapy has been a roller coaster of ups and downs and all arounds… Usually, the day of the infusion and a day or two after, I’m riding high (literally, on steroids) and have some manic productivity and positivity. Then on the 3rd or 4th day, my energy drops and I have a couple of tired days and some sadness. For the first week, nausea is constant, although controlled. On the 5th or 6th day other side effects start to show up, and they are slightly different each time.

Chemotherapy is kind of brutal, but it’s also effective. One of the most effective tools we have against this beast. From what I read and hear from those who have been through it, my side effects are toward the middle of the curve. Here’s one time that I’m glad I’m just average as opposed to having it even worse…

Trigger Warning and TMI Section (for if you really want to know):

Chemotherapy and the side effects:

Each time was slightly different then the last… Though some things were consistent; constipation, nausea, and tiredness. I could go on about constipation for hours, if you’ll listen, but I’ll pace myself for this post. Discomfort in my lower abdomen (ovaries and uterus) has been going on since January and that seems to change with each infusion, different locations, different intensity.

The first infusion I got the shakes and some super fast migraines in the first week, started feeling more normal in the second week, and in the third my scalp began to hurt terribly, that’s when my hair started falling out. 

The second infusion I started walking more because I was feeling better, but noticed my stamina wasn’t nearly what it used to be. Mouth sores are something a lot of folks talk about and I did get some this time as well as a little bit of spotting. I’m menopausal so that was weird. Speaking of menopause, can you say hot flashes? Phew!

The third infusion was followed by the same stuff (although I mostly seem to have the nausea under control), and more joint and bone pain, depression, and my eyelashes started to fall out. I had a little lightheadedness as well… And apparently acid reflux is also a thing that comes with chemo…

So, if you’ve read this far, thank you! Until next time!

❤️

Kate

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The Ovarian Bull

Hey y’all, Christian here with some more comic relief! 😊

First off, thank you so much to everyone who has helped support us during this time of need, it has really meant a lot to us both. 🙏 Who needs a functional healthcare system with family and friends like these.

When I was a child, unburdened by the world and its things, my parents decided that it was about time we had “the talk”… you know, that cultural right of passage that so often ends in an awkward conversation between a parent and their child about the birds, bees, and the cigarette trees. And my parents being into these self-help workshops that were so popular in the 80s, what better way to teach your child about how intimacy works then to send him to a sex-ed class consisting of a bunch of strangers, which in retrospect wasn’t the worst pairing with the overall “we must never discuss this again” vibes surrounding the event. 

So one night my Dad dropped me off at the local church where the class was being held, within a minute or so of being seated, they already have they diagram of the female reproductive system up on the overhead projector, and the teacher is proclaiming, “it kind of looks like a bull with the horns” (points to the ovarian tubes) and that is where the memory completely dead ends and my life-long association with bulls and woman’s reproductive parts begins.

That is all to say that, please forgive me for my somewhat juvenile first-take of this situation, but when we found out about Kate’s ovarian cancer my initial reaction was to imagine this giant bull with blue skin, staring down murderously,  violently exhaling smoke from its nostrils, a cancer monster looking like it was ready to charge. And of course, you know me (maybe), never have I missed an opportunity to use technology and AI to manifest the strange musings of my mind….

Picture Description: Kate uses her magic staff to fend off a very large blue bull

Of particular note, I love how the AI generated boots that matched the blanket she had around her shoulders. The way Dall-E (an AI art generator) works is that you erase part of the picture and it kind of just fills in the blanks with whatever you type into the prompt, then it tries to best match it with the original image, this is pretty much like magic to me… and also quite fashionable. Between the Chat GPT and the generative art stuff going on right now, it feels again like we live in a time of magic. You just have to know the right incantation (or prompt) and out comes a bit of wonder, which is really a much appreciated distraction on the path of Kate’s Quest.

Take care of yourself and loved ones,

Christian 

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Hairless

Image Description: Kate, wearing a red mask and barely any hair, peers over her glasses at her chemo appointment.

Hair Today. Gone Tomorrow. Back in 2024 (hopefully).

On my birthday this year 2023, my hair began to fall out in earnest. It was expected. It was from the chemo. 

There is something a little disconcerting, about running your fingers through your hair and coming away with a handful of it that’s no longer attached to your head… 

But, I do find this fascinating. The whole 2-3 weeks since my first chemotherapy was one day after another discovering a new side-effect or symptom. Maybe I’m staying a little too clinical about it, but my body is changing and adjusting to the chemo drugs in expected and unexpected ways, and I’m here for it. It’s fascinating, although not very pleasant. 

There is loss here. There is acceptance. There is sadness and hope. There are pictures.

Kate wears many hats and hairlessness.

Here are some bald jokes… I apologize in advance:

  • When do you know you’re going bald? When you use more toothpaste than shampoo.
  • I was gonna make a joke about a bald person’s hair. But then I remembered there was nothing to joke about.
  • What do you call a barber that only works on bald people? An air stylist.
  • You are so bald that I can simply rub your head and start predicting futures!
  • What do you call a bald porcupine? Pointless.
  • What’s the most expensive haircut? Chemotherapy
  • And my favorite. ~ My hair stylist is my oncologist.
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