I Go With the Flow

The weekend post chemo is certainly an interesting one.  I spent a lot of extra time sleeping, and now, when it's 3:30am Monday morning, I am currently wide awake.  I attribute some of my alertness to the cats, who have needed extra affection this morning--in their perspective, I am a jungle gym.

Since I don't like wasting time, it just seemed appropriate to get up to write a blog entry.  I'm sure that mid-morning at school I might regret my decision, but it seems to me that my body has endured enough sleep in the last few days.

I guess it's time for a week in review...

I'm starting to get a few longer runs in, which is necessary for my "half-marathon training."  Notice, I am using air quotes, because, of course, what I am doing would not be legitimately counted as training, but it's the best I can do under the conditions.  I went 5 miles last Monday, and I made it a very slow six at Saturday's practice.  During the same amount of time, the boys' varsity group ran 10 miles.  I remember when I used to run the workouts with the boys...okay, so that was fourteen years ago.  I get it.  Still.  I have to admit, I am jealous when the kids blaze by me.  They are very supportive though, and my hand generally stings from all of the high-fives on the trail.

Last Tuesday morning, I got to endure another PET scan.  The end results were good, but the scan itself is not an easy task for me.  For the first 70 minutes, it is imperative that I lay perfectly still in a recliner, while the radioactive chemicals pulse through my body.  I can listen to music on my iPhone, but I am forbidden from touching the phone or reading a book.  After being immobilized in the chair, I then get to actually do the scan, holding perfectly still.  Even my students know that I have difficulty sitting still or standing still for more than 30 seconds, so this is an amazing feat for me.  

Tuesday after school, Margaret Reist (the Lincoln Journal Star reporter, and mom of my former student) came out to East to interview me for the follow-up cancer story.  I seriously think that I hold reporters hostage, since I have so many stories to tell.  An hour and a half later, somehow she managed to end the interview, even though I probably could have talked for a few more hours.  I'm glad someone can cut me off!

Thursday morning, I let my third period Creative Writing students use my head as a creative canvas. They had fun decorating my head, and I thoroughly enjoy the free head massage in the process.  I enjoy listening to them discuss how to properly decorate my head.  In the afternoon, I had to do chemo, and I got the results back from the PET scan.  The PET scan results were supposed to indicate whether or not the chemo cocktail was working or not.  My mom popped over to the cancer center on her lunch break to hear what Dr. Green had to say.  He was very pleased with the test results, and my tumor/nodules had shrunk considerably.  My platelets are struggling a little bit, and we don't want to have any issues with leukemia again, so it was determined that I would get the same drugs, but only 75% of what I have been getting.

I have also determined that I am the "mascot" at the cancer center.  If I don't show up with head art or do something else strange, people seem to be disappointed.  Tuesday morning, for my scan, I think I let people down, so, luckily, I was fully covered in head art for my chemo day.  I also handed out my "I can. I will!" business cards that I made, in addition to handing out some "I can. I will!" crocodiles.

The territorial side of my crocodilian personality came out when I didn't get my same chemo chair. However, there was a cute old lady sitting in it, so I tried not to send out any negative vibes (although, I really wanted it, even though I have been told it's a "cursed" chair, since it's where I had my allergic reaction the first round).  The cute old man with the woman in my chair handed me a wooden cross.  He is a part of the Seward church group, the cross makers.  While I am not very religious, the cross was an exceptional fidgety toy, and I could roll it around in my hand.  I gave the man one of my "I can. I will!" cards.  I think it's important to make other cancer patients feel good--and my mom and I didn't like to see a woman crying on her way into treatment.  There was this one other young patient there with me the last two times.  She is always smiley and happy, much like me, so while on a recon mission to the restroom, I gave her a card and a crocodile.  (When I was at dinner later with some friends, Cara told me that this was her friend.  Cara had run into this woman at Target after her treatment, and she told her that I was also her buddy.)  My dad hung out in infusion for a while, and then Pam Hovorka came to pick me up.

After chemo, Pam and I went out to the Harold Scott cross country meet at Pioneers Park.  Chemo took forever, so we didn't get out there until the varsity races.  Harold Scott is a huge meet with 16 teams, so there were lots of spectators out there.  A Lincoln Journal Star photographer was out on the course taking pictures of the meet, and he was also responsible for getting photos of me for the article in the paper.  He took photos of Pam and I cheering for the girls' team (they won the meet, by the way), and then he took several photos of me while the boys' team was getting ready to start the race.

In addition to the support from my own cross country team and parents, the Lincoln Southwest team also showed the love.  The Southwest runners had on white "I can. I will!" t-shirts with green writing. The shirts have a green Spartan head and a green Silverhawks logo, and they show their support for me.  The head coach, Ryan Salem, was my high school and college teammate, and Daniel Bax, a volunteer, is one of my English colleagues in the district.  I took a photo with the Southwest team in their shirts after the meet.  After the meet, Pam and I went to Dino's to hang out with our group of East and former East teachers.

When I got home Thursday, there were several pictures on the Journal Star website already (photographs from the meet, head art, and me wearing a goofy crocodile hat).  Friday morning, the article was definitely a surprise.  I did not expect to make the front page of the paper.  I figured that I might get the front of the local section, but there I was, front and center.  I'm thinking that they were running with a "crazy" theme on the front page, because my article was underneath the article about Nikko Jenkins, a crazy serial killer in Omaha.  I read the article out loud to all of my classes Friday, so that they would better understand the crocodile phenomenon and the story of "I can. I will!"

I am constantly amazed by the generosity of others.  After reading the article in the paper, a former East High parent contacted Margaret Reist.  He wanted us to use his condo in Fountain Hills, Arizona, when we go to Arizona over Thanksgiving break.  We definitely are taking advantage of this generosity, and I was happy to discover that Brian had taught both of this man's kids (and coached the son in freshman and reserve basketball).  There are bonuses to cancer, although I know that's a bit of a stretch.  We also have managed to get Suns' box seat tickets, so we're in for a luxury vacation.  Now, I just have to contact the skydiving outfit in Sedona and get that madness set up.

I managed to watch the first half of the East football game, run with the cross country team Saturday morning, and see the first quarter of the Husker game at Colleen's before crashing from the chemo.  I also was able to eat dinner with our family friends, the Carroll's, and see Anna who was home from Denver.

I think that's the gist of last week...and now on to more excitement...

On Wednesday this week, I was asked to come to the Lincoln East softball game.  It is their pink out game, and I am actually honored on their team t-shirts this season.  Their shirts are bright pink, and have the mantra "I can. I will! --Mrs. Kabourek" on the back.  Apparently, I get to throw out the first pitch, which is really hilarious, if any of you have ever seen me throw a ball.  Generally, the ball will go in the opposite direction from where it was intended.  Even Scout, our therapy dog, had a difficult time figuring out where the ball went when I threw it to her.  I suspect I can't be any worse than the cat that threw out the pitch (the cat who saved the boy from the dog attack), but it could be pretty close.

It's now 5:20am, which is a reasonable time to be awake.  I think I have learned my lesson: don't forget to take the Ambien.

I can. I will!