Tuesday, January 24, 2017

It's been a year.

Yes, yes, I know.  I'm sure you readers thought I jumped off the face of the planet, however, I did not.

My husband has had some majorly serious health issues for the past year, which has more than kept me busy since I'm his primary caregiver, so I definitely have less time to blog.

Since my life has definitely taken a different turn, so I'm not going to continue with this blog any longer.  That said, there's some interesting things to read here, so I will leave this up for the sake of posterity, I suppose.

I wish you all the best.

The One and Only Horse Doovers

Friday, January 22, 2016

Critical of "awareness," of course I am!

Awareness.  Who fucking needs it?  

Those who haven't pranced their way through CancerLand certainly know what a pink ribbon means, possibly even know someone else whose life has been affected by that dreaded C word.  (No, not THAT C word.  I can easily type out the words cock and cunt without referring to them as a "C" word.)


Those of us who have taken our steps through CancerLand, as The Cancer Curmudgeon puts it, have all the awareness we could ever ponder having.


How would we or how could we forget? 


We are scarred. 


We have been poisoned with chemo and/or radiated, both of which cause residual collateral damage to our bodies and minds. 


Some days are better than others, but then some are not. 


Those are the days that I get out of breath walking through the house, courtesy of cardiotoxic herceptin. 


Those are the days when I still throw up after trying to eat because of how sick I was during chemo, that now my esophagus and stomach get out of sync when trying to process food as I'm eating, so it doesn't go anywhere but back up--this is years after the last dose of chemo I was poisoned with. 


Those are the days when my arms are excruciating from lymphedema and as awesome as my sleeves are, they only help minimally. 


Those are the days when my scars on my chest hurt badly.  By badly, I mean imagine taking rebar, cutting it into two equal pieces of a foot long each, strapping it to your upper chest vertically, and then having someone slam a baseball bat into that rebar repeatedly. 


My skin is no longer normal.  If I even look at paper the wrong way, I have multiple paper cuts.  This is coming from someone who used to do yard work for hours bare handed, and only occasionally needed gloves.  I loved the feel of dirt on my hands.  Now, I'm grateful to have the opportunity to have horse dirt on my hands, mud, and horse poop.


Days where the neuropathy is so bad in my feet that I'm afraid to walk across the floor because I'm not sure I won't fall on my face and break something. 


Days where the nerve damage from a shitty surgery has fucked up my upper chest, arms, and even around toward my back so badly that bumping into a door frame or wall can cause me to literally wind up on my knees sucking in air so I don't throw up or pass out.


Days where my brain works better than others.  CICI (Chemo Induced Cognitive Impairment) is real, let me fucking assure you.  My phone, tablet, and laptop are all synced now for keeping the calendar updated all the time.  You may not think this is a big deal, but for someone who formerly had a borderline eidetic memory when it came to names, addresses, and numbers, I cannot tell you how devastating this actually is, especially when I had enough memory for detail that I could once write nearly fifty pages of fiction a day.  There are times when I can attempt to articulate something, either verbally or written, know what's in my head, what it is I want to attempt explaining and yet fail epically with what I'm trying to say.


Recipes, I could recite and write down recipes for days.  I'm lucky if I can remember a recipe from one week to the next if I want to repeat making it or share it with someone. Now, I struggle to write my name because of the nerve damage and messed up/lack of entire muscle control that no physical therapy could ever fix.  Filling out a check for something makes me want to to violent things with the pen and checkbook because my manual dexterity for writing is gone.  My handwriting and even printing look completely different from what they were five years ago.


Fatigue that's so bad, I literally can't move some days for hours on end. 


There's probably more I could list, but I'm probably forgetting it and will likely think of it at two o'clock in the morning when the laptop isn't on.


I've had to learn to prioritize and give myself time to adjust and function.  If I volunteer on a Monday, I've learned not to have much of anything planned for the next day.  If something absolutely cannot be avoided the next day, then I've learned to appreciate being able to utilize the slow cooker to have one less thing to really deal with on Tuesday and to try to avoid having anything that has to really be done on Wednesday, other than the usual stuff.  For me, slowing down isn't something I've ever really had to do, I accomplished things, did things, and now, I have to stop and think, look at my phone, try to figure out what I can manage and when I can manage it.  It bothers me that I can no longer do things at the rate I once did them.


You're probably sitting there thinking to yourself, "But Horse Doovers, at least you're alive!"  Well, yeah, I'm alive, but at what cost to my body, mind, functionality, and having to logic out what I can and cannot do?


My goals right now are to remain alive long enough to see my youngest graduate from high school, which is next year.  Beyond that, my goal is to get a degree and try to get into oncology counseling.  I'm already doing that with the private support group I maintain.  Somehow, some way, I want to get back into actual horseback riding.  I don't care if it's once a week or once a month, I just want to be able to ride again.  If I could figure out a way to incorporate the oncology counseling and equids, that would be even better.


Another goal is to bring information to doctors about how neglected oncology survivors feel after they've traipsed through CancerLand as a patient advocate/doctor educator.  Yet another goal is to continue to add my voice to those of the metsters in raising as much hell as possible for an actual cure, not more awareness because it hurts my heart to see post about mesters who have bad news because of a lack of an actual cure, or even worse, lost their lives because a cure is needed.  It hurts my brain to know that money is valued so highly above the lives of these women and men who are forever gone from their families and friends, so I, too, will raise hell as long as I possibly can because any death from cancer is one death too many.


All of these goals are equally important.  All of these goals are equally do-able.


Awareness for those of us who have been to CancerLand is every fucking day.  

Less "awareness" in terms of don't talk about it to make more people aware, be about it and do, for accomplishment.

Friday, January 15, 2016

Have I mentioned this?

Nope, don't think I have.

I have found the ultimate in hair and skin care products.  No, I'm not selling them, no, I'm not being reimbursed in any manner for saying I use these particular products, yes, I almost wish I was.


Shea Moisture.  Yes, these products meet all of the strict requirements that I wanted and needed, as well as being affordable, without sacrificing product quality.


They have a product line for every hair and skin type, and are reasonably priced, which is amazing.


Everything is natural and organic, sustainably and responsibly grown, fair trade, and t
here's no nasty stuff I try to avoid in the products I use, they do clearly list what isn't included in their products, and best of all, no animal testing!


Please give them a look and some consideration when purchasing your next go-round of hair and/or skin products.  This stuff is amazing and will make you feel like you're getting a spa day at home for yourself.  From me, that means something since I've never had a spa day, other than what I've done for myself.


Their products are available for purchase on their site, and they also have a list of retailers who have things available locally.  The prices are pretty consistent, so there's no much higher price at one store over another, although some stores will have a BOHO (buy one, get one half off), which is a great way to acquire matching products, like a shampoo with a conditioner.



Tuesday, January 12, 2016

big pharma

You know what? Anyone with three functioning brain cells should be fucking terrified of the big pharma corruption. I had never messed with stuff like that, illegal or legal, because I saw first hand as a kid what that shit does to people. Because of that, I had no interest in anything, it was even rare for me to take an acetaminophen for even a headache. It was my  husband who told me that if I had a headache and I took some acetaminophen for it, it didn't mean I'd become an addict. So from him, I learned that. 

Fast forward to me getting diagnosed with stupid fucking cancer. The piles of prescriptions I had shoved at me hand over fist would appall damn near anyone. It was like a fucking candy store for addicts, except I refused to take any of that shit because of side effects, they were psychotropics, impaired beyond impairment, highly addictive, fuck that, cancer is enough of a shit storm without all the extra problems the drugs I was being told to take.  (That said, if someone needs that stuff and feels as if they are able to function better or that stuff helps them, I'm certainly not going to give them shit about it.)


I had no idea how bad it actually was until I was diagnosed. Too many people make too much fucking money off big pharma meds for very many people to want cannabis to be a valid, legal option for healthcare--in other words, I believe that's greed and corruption preventing legalization in many states.  


It was unreal the damage the chemo drugs did to my body.  Maybe I should turn that into a blog post just to inform people how bad it really is.


The following is a list of the vile big pharma poisons I was subjected to for a year and I spent that entire year of my life very nearly dead, and no, I'm not exaggerating.


TCH= taxol / carboplatin / trastuzumab 


TH= taxol / trastuzumab


CMF= cyclophosphamide / methotrexate / fluourouracil / trastuzumab

Check out the side effects sometime.  You may be appalled and surprised at the same time.

Friday, January 8, 2016

Who is Horse Doovers?

Horse Doovers happens to be me.  I am Horse Doovers.  (Proof of this would be an example of yesterday.  I was driving across the parking lot of the school where I volunteer and hear a football player bellow at me "HORSE DOOVERS!" with all the enthusiasm of, well, a high school football player who is friends with the youngest son.)

Anyway, here's a list of my qualifications and life experience so you can better know who I am.

I have taken care of the growing, care, and feeding of three sons, successfully raising them to be decent young men with honor and integrity. 

This also includes over 70,000 diapers changed, over 17,000 loads of laundry done, over 75,000 meals cooked; successful nurturing and taking care of sick children, overseeing completion of homework, volunteering countless hours at schools, arranging social interactions, doctor, dentist, and eye appointments, countless miles driven, and mediating arguments between brothers, all while managing to stay sane.  (Yes, I did the math for the diapers, laundry, and cooking because I wanted to know exactly how much I've accomplished with that over the twenty five years I've been married, although I did that math when I'd been married twenty five years, but a few weeks ago, hit twenty six years of marriage.)

I also have experience with freelance editing, writing, and love animals and coffee equally, and just as much as I love coffee, I fucking hate cancer because it wrecked my life.

Now you readers have a better idea of what I do with my time when I'm not doing SMS (Social Media Shit) on here.


Thursday, January 7, 2016

You know you live in Oklahoma when--

You're driving through the middle of town and a passel of deer prance in front of the vehicle you're driving.

The same thing happens again a few days later.

You run across people who have braids down to their knees.

You find out Oklahoma is now the earthquake capital of the Lower 48 states.



(Note:  This will be a floaty post that will pop up whenever those Oklahoma things happens to me.)

Thursday, December 31, 2015

2015 is gone.

Yes, 2015 is going and with it, earlier in the month of December, Carolyn.  It made my brain hurt to try to process that I won't see her posting anything on her blog now, or pictures of her beloved family that she loved and adored so much.  It made my heart hurt to know I won't see those things from her, it made my heart hurt to know that there are people in the world who value money over her life and the countless lives of others who have cancer that goes mets by not putting money into research to help people like Carolyn.

Good bye, 2015.  

Hello, 2016.  I hope you're far better and more improved in every way possible than what 2015 was.

I suppose we'll have to wait and see.