Ah detox

Detox is that fun process where you spend some time concentrating on getting the crap that doesn't belong in your body OUT.
In this case, it's just about everything besides people.
Finally feeling human as of a few weeks ago- the kind of human where you can do 6 hours of housework instead of the 3 that sends you into a nap.
Not that I love 6 hours of housework, I take breaks- but you get my drift.
Laundry, gardening- I'm getting really good at doing this stuff with my left arm. Gardening is easier than I thought.
Mark still needs to pick up the heavy stuff for me, but I do pretty well digging and weeding and planting with one arm. The right arm does work- I just can't cut it, lift with it, push, pull or exert it too much.
I've managed to figure out how to pick up Melody with my left arm and a little of the right where it doesn't aggravate the condition. I'll probably wind up with Popeye arm, but who cares. I got tattoos, and room for a badly drawn anchor. why not?
I'm managing a little more every day. My limits are still very much there- but it feels like a heavy curtain is slowly lifting every day.
The Tamoxifen isn't treating my bones very well. The 80 year old arthritic skeleton makes for uncomfortable clothes every day. Just gotta keep moving. Moving moving moving.
Walking gets difficult - I try to go to the boardwalk now that it's been rebuilt about 80% and push the stroller to push past the pain. The ocean and what it costs to park in my own damn zip code so I can get to the beach easily is enough to keep my mind off my feet for a bit. Best time to go is the weekdays.
Weekends are crazy and I don't even venture down the mile up the road- a town of 20,000 turns into a town of 80,000 for a whole summer and getting around is bad. (Locals know the backroads)-- but weekdays or the rare event you can get a free street spot is awesome. The kids like it too.
The legs will hurt- but it keeps them feeling better in the long run. Strong like Bull!!!

I never was able to see Dr. Cairoli last week either. I am finally insured, while means everything is new and I need a referral for the oncology appointment. I drove an hour and a half through the Pine Barrens only to get a request for a referral, which I did not have. EEK! So I went all the way back home and finally got in to see the new PCP- which is actually a clinic of doctors and nurse practitioners happy to help. That was yesterday.
Can I say I am so happy that my old doctor is gone? The idiot who refused to acknowledge that I worked without ventilation around so many chemicals, yet swore I was a heavy smoker. Walking into her office feeling very very sick 3 months before I was diagnosed with cancer telling her that I felt something was wrong.... she didn't listen to me or even look at me and gave me a script.
This woman left it with me to call her if anything went wrong. No mention of routine exams, anything. She never gave a shit. Nobody tells you shit when you get cancer. I learned everything from a magazine in the waiting room or the internet. Some from the doctor, but very little. Nobody told me I wouldn't be able to lift over 5 lbs forever, or that I am to supposed to have deep massage done or have blood pressure cuffs or needles banned from my arm.
I learned it all on my own. Everything happened so fast with the cancer and diagnosis, but nobody mentions scans or blood tests or anything. When I ask, am told to ask someone else besides the doctor who is treating me. Apparently I am SUPPOSED to follow up with my PCP. Thankfully at this appointment, the nurse practitioner that I saw  actually gave a shit and couldn't figure out why nobody had told me to get any scans after all this crap. He immediately recommended a full blood test scan (10am today!) for everything and a echocardiogram for my heart. Like really? Thanks man. He also approved the marijuana approach to dealing with pain after he informed me that he can't legally give me pills. I told him I hate the pills anyway. No worries.
So someone actually cared enough to see something I needed and make it happen. Wow.
I'm finding I am really dissatisfied with my oncologist- I loved the care and the hospital, but the "Team" has proved to be nothing but people with blinders on.
Phyllis can push the Tamoxifen on me hard and heavy. But I meet more and more women with side effects who had to stop taking it. Personally.
This woman is so hard up to give me this drug but fails to give a whit about where I worked. Or what I eat. I literally inhaled the chemical equivalent of a pack of cigarettes an hour at work with the air I breathed at work and it never phased them. But I "did the right thing" by calling OSHA. Pesticides MAY have contributed to my cancer is what the doctor said too, but I eat all orgaic and don't spray my garden or lawn at all. But the Tamoxifen manufacturer- that company that makes that breast cancer pill- also manufactures a pesticide that has been banned in a ton of countries because it CAUSES CANCER. and My doctor is right and I am wrong for questioning it? Wow.
And the Tamox  side effects that thousands of women on internet message boards have- that I can relate to--- do not exist in the oncologist's office. I bring up the rage incident with the nurse..."Tamoxifen rage? Never heard of it...oh wait- I'm googling it now- wow- it really does happen!". And I didn't go to fancy colleges. Really? The bone pain, the vertigo, the yuck- that's all my fault and not Tamoxifen's? Ok? Not sure why they love to defend a pill, probably money.

This racket- this medical racket we are squeezed through... I had so much faith in them and they held the reigns, but it wasn't right. I got attitudes when I had no idea what was going on, yet nobody communicates anything or can answer a question. It's all a mess.
How does someone who treats cancer just not give a shit about environment, diet or lifestyle?
You have a heart attack- and you eat like crap- your doctor restricts your diet. You get cancer and you eat like crap- and they ENCOURAGE it. Eat whatever you want. Go for it. Nobody tells you sugar is a friend of cancer... It's why they give you the sugary crap for medical tests. The junk goes right to the sugar. But no. Nothing you eat, or smoke, live or where you work has nothing do with your cancer- nobody! Good God, what is this earth coming to? Do people care about other people any more?
Blech. I'm an inch away from throwing this stupid Tamoxifen back at them. No thanks.
But that's ok. As long as I have the Fox Chase surgeon who can reattach my blood vessels and boobs, and Dr. Miller cutting out the pieces- an oncologist other than Cairoli is probably something I'll be looking for in the future. He's a nice guy, but I don't want a nice guy when it comes to cancer. I want someone who cares and questions how I got it, and what i can eat to keep the blood healthy. My dad died of an environmental cancer- I don't want to join him just yet, ya know? His doctor cared and questioned and was so awesome- but unfortunately my insurance won't let me go to Pennsylvania.
Ugh. NJ has no "wellness" oncology. Ironic, since we have the highest cancer rates per area than any other state.

So it's day 11 of the raw detox and aside from yesterday's nasty headache (coffee withdrawl)- it's going ok. I'm losing weight (rare when you are on Tamoxifen) - Only 5 lbs so far (I put on 50 lbs during treatment!!) - but I'm feeling good purging crap and unnecessary stuff out. I cleaned out my closet and bedroom and that was a feat of strength. 2 kids and their socks will take over any house. Spent 2 days donating and chucking and packing and folding. And I found it was really painful. It opened a wound that pretty much is the main reason I had to start sitting down and blogging again.
I never imagined the wound would open- but it really is PTSD when it gets bad- I'll have an anxiety attack after lying down and all of a sudden I flash to the operating table right before my surgery, My mind seems to replay the horrible parts of all of this and it won't stop. I hate it. I took a Xanax yesterday and I never do that.
Purging my closet meant I had to throw out all my clothes I can't ever wear again. The cute halter tops, the bathing suits, all my bras- had to go. My nursing bras were the hardest.
It was too much. You wouldn't think that throwing away those things would be so painful, but it was. Death of the ego, yes- but crap- I'm an amputee. Some days I wish it was my legs instead. I know it sounds vain. So what. It HURT.
I couldn't part with the shirt I wore to the hospital though - the last shirt my old body wore. At least it was striped. :)
Anyway it was just real tough.
Fuck- you feel all put together and some dumb thing tips you over when you least expect it. Doesn't help when menopause apparently goes out the window and your period comes back with a vengeance of epic proportions that really don't help the situation either. Sounds dramatic- but it is! lol.!!
Agh. It dredged up so much stuff, cleaning out that closet--- but it motivated me too to just let it go. GO GO GO.
It is just taking it's time leaving.
Lets' hope for some clean blood results and a better heart. I live in New Jersey after all.

Phyllis next week (yay). No Dr. Patel until August. I cannot wait to fix this freakshow chest. Please.
.....truckin on.