Blame

Why do we blame? To make ourselves feel better I guess. It gives us an excuse. It's a way to relieve yourself of guilt.

There isn't anyone to blame for me being sick. I can't point a finger to someone or something else and say "This is all your fault! Why did you do this to me?"

Frustrating.

At a recent doctor appointment I expressed my concern that I didn't know when I would feel good enough to work out again. My doctor gently reminded me that I currently have medication induced Cushings and that I would probably not feel good enough for another year. A year?!?!? I don't know if I can hang that long. Hasn't this journey taken long enough already? I guess not.

So, with nobody to blame and no guilt to be felt, I don't know how to feel about this. I'm mad. I know that. I feel somewhat helpless as there isn't a single thing I can do to make this go faster or become easier. It's like a waiting game.

Progress

I'm done with chemotherapy and radiation. I've graduated from college. I'm back to working full time at the University of Utah. I'm still losing my hair and fighting fatigue.

I've commented before about reactions I get from people that see my baldness. Yesterday a woman asked me if I was scared. No, I said. Why should I be? I could be. A lot of people are in my situation. Would being scared change anything? Would it make me better if I was still sick? No. Being scare won't change anything. That's why I'm not scared. Being scared takes time and energy, neither of which I want to waste.

What customer service!

I received a call on my home phone this afternoon. I saw "Lamb's Grill" show up on my television caller ID and thought how odd that was. This is the restaurant we used to go to religiously on Monday nights until I started chemotherapy. We haven't been in months now and it has been missed. We always felt welcome. They saved us a booth in the corner every Monday night, whether we came or not. I would usually meet Craig and Halle there after school. They would be late because they got dressed up and brought a bottle of wine.

It was them on the phone. I recognized the voice of the lady who sat us each week. One of our many servers, Kat, found our phone number and they called. Only to see how I was doing. This was our conversation:

Heather - "Hello."

Lamb's - "Is this Heather Rasmussen?"

Heather - "Yes. This is Heather Rasmussen."

Lamb's - "The Heather Rasmussen that used to bring her daughter Halle (Holly) to Lamb's Grill?"

Heather - "Yes. That's me."

Lamb's - "How are you doing? We've been worried about you."

Heather - "I've been okay, but having a harder time since I started chemotherapy. It's been kind of tough on me."

Lamb's - "We're just glad to know you're still with us. We've all been so worried."

She then went on to explain how she knows this is such an odd call and they were worried about calling the wrong Rasmussen household.

That was it. They were just checking on me. Wow.

I told Craig, so now we're going there for dinner tonight. It is Monday night you know...

Busy being sick.

I've been busy being sick. Sorry.

I've become quite acquainted with the porcelain princess recently. I used to call it that back in the day of horrid hangovers, but now it's just a title bestowed upon the receptacle through which I poor my innards and stare relentlessly at while dripping from the various holes in my face. It's been a journey.

I've gone in three times to the doctor to have an IV, once being admitted to the hospital. I'm better now. Eating anyway. That's always a good sign of improvement.

I am well enough to take two final exams today. Tomorrow I graduate. Next week, more torture in the form of chemotherapy. Always an adventure. That's my life.

So, I've been a little preoccupied lately. Please forgive me. I've been busy being sick.

What will life be like?

I took my midterm on Friday after attending class. I did it. I had studied, so I was prepared. For the test. I was prepared for the test.

Day five (post two) of chemotherapy. I thought I was soooo smart! I really thought I had the nausea under control. I had started taking the Zofran the morning of the first day and as directed after that: twice a day. During class on Friday, I started to feel really bad. I took my exam afterward and did it in 30 minutes. Then I went to wait for the professor to return. His office door was closed, I had knocked without answer. I started shaking. Another professor I had taken classes from previously asked if I was okay, was I getting ready to take an exam and just nervous. I told him I had already taken the exam and wasn't feeling that good. He asked what I needed and helped me out. My stuff was in my professor's office, so I couldn't leave without getting in there. Someone from the main office came and opened the professor's door. He was in there the whole time. All 20 minutes of me just sitting out there dying and waiting for him to return! My heart slumped inside of me.

I went home to be sick. I was nauseated. For four days. I ate and threw up, ate and threw up, ... It was a fun Easter weekend. The first time in my daughter's life I didn't buy her an Easter outfit, put together her basket, hide the eggs, and do something fun with her.

On Monday I went with Craig and Halle to radiation therapy. They wouldn't let me leave because I was dehydrated. Apparently I was so dehydrated that I took in two liters of IV fluid and still didn't have to pee. They let me go home. I started taking the Compazine. It worked. I ate dinner that night. Today, a little breakfast and some lunch. Dinner was tri-tip, pea salad and spaghetti marinara. I didn't eat much, but it did stay!

So, a rough few days. I'm feeling better now. My cap and gown are purchased. The graduation announcements are on their way via UPS. Next week I finish radiation therapy. A few weeks after that, I graduate from college. About a week after that - chemotherapy is done. What on earth will life be like?

Meeting the man

I almost passed out this morning when my IV was being put in. I was terribly light headed. The IV was put in my left arm this time, but on the top lower part of my arm. This is nicer than last time because I can type and use both hands freely. My nurse was Laural. She was very nice.

I fell asleep in my chair with Craig by my side. At some point, Laural changed my chemo bag and Craig had to confirm it. So, when I woke up, they were changing the third bag! It was nice.

Craig and I didn't bring anything to do - we just sat there and talked. It was also nice.

When I was nearly done with my last bag of chemo, I noticed someone walk into the infusion room and go to the nurse's station. Then, he walked right over to me because when he turned around, he could tell I knew exactly who he was. Jon Huntsman Sr. Yes. This is the same man for whom the Huntsman Cancer Institute and Huntsman Cancer Hospital are named. He built these facilities in honor of his mother who died of cancer.

Mr. Huntsman was there in a well-tailored white Nordstrom dress shirt and casual slacks. His sleeves were rolled up and he had an IV in his right arm. It wasn't too obvious, but I could see it. He talked to us for a few minutes about what he was doing there and that he had to go in for surgery in 45 minutes to get rid of some melanoma. I heard him talk to the guy next to me about how he never thought he would be a four time patient in the facilities he helped develop.

I am very grateful for Mr. Huntsman and his efforts. They have given me the confidence to be treated locally. His facilities have brought in so many wonderful doctors dedicated to healing and discovery. When I found out that I had cancer, there was no question in my mind as to where I wanted to go for treatment.

Thank you Jon Huntsman Sr. for all that you have done for everyone afflicted with cancer. You can never know how you have affected our lives.

Turning 36

I turn 36 on Sunday. I have a certain infatuation with the 80s. Thinking back to when I was in high school, I remember loving the 80s then too. My favorite band - Duran Duran. I don't have one of their albums and I've never seen them live. I do have a few of their songs on my iPod, however.

Speaking of my iPod - I love it. I love my iPod. It's the 16G - red. I love my car, too.

I use the free valet parking at the hospital each day when I go for radiation therapy. I love seeing my car come back to me. It's gold with darkly tinted windows and it's fully loaded. If the skies are dry, my sun roof is open. If it's freezing, I just crank the heat. I can tell the valet's like my car too by the way they drive it back to me. Also, they always park it backwards (backed in). It's the most beautiful gold Honda Civic EX - and it's odd because it's a 4-door automatic. I love it. Plus, I only have to fill my tank every other week. Super good on the gas!!

It's crazy to think that I have spent my entire 35th year dealing with this stupid illness. I was thinking about where I was a year ago. Manhattan Beach, CA. I've spent a lot of time with my mom over the last year. She's taken care of me quite a bit. Each surgery, every major test, etc.

My parents are on their way to visit me right now, driving from California. I'm excited to see them. My mom will come with me to radiation Friday. Tomorrow I have to take a midterm after radiation. Then I'll get to see my parents! Yay!

My dad has wanted to take me fly fishing for my birthday for the last few years. Last year, we said that it would have to be next year. Well, here we are and now we have to say it again. Next year.

Birthdays make us think about life - past, present, and future. Like the realization of the passing of time, birthdays mark a specific day in our lives that present the most significance to us personally. It's our day, mostly unshared. A day that makes me thankful I'm getting one at all based on my most recent history. And I am. I am very grateful just to be having another birthday. Truly a blessing.