(19-02-03) – Explaining the Pain

Yesterday was awful, and when I woke up at 12:15 this morning with shooting pains in my stomach, I thought today would be a repeat. It hasn’t been nearly as intense today as it was yesterday, but I am still mostly lying around in bed, rocking myself while in fetal position and reminding myself that my skin will break out if I don’t stop crying. Dr. Godinez said I should have about four more days of this pain. Anything past that will require me getting taken to a hospital in San Diego for an ultrasound.

According to Dr. Godinez, a combination of factors is causing the intense pain in my stomach. The smaller issue is that having enemas twice in one week likely caused inflammation in my intestines, which is why I was getting such intense pain in my lower stomach, below my belly button. For now, we’re going to hold off on doing any more of those, and I will walk to the grocery store in a couple days to try to find foods with more fiber. They also said they could give me pills to keep everything regular, but I prefer to use food, not technology, to handle this process.

The sharp pain underneath my right rib cage is a direct result of both the vaccine and chemotherapy. While smaller meds typically get broken down in the kidneys before the body disperses and eliminates them, larger meds (like chemo drugs) get broken down in the liver. The liver produces this orange-yellow substance called bilirubin, to help digest things like greasy foods (or, in my case right now, chemo drugs), and the gall bladder is the container that kind of houses all this stuff during the process. As both the vaccine and chemotherapy do their thing in my body, my liver and gall bladder are getting a pretty active workout, and that’s why they’re both screaming in pain right about now. It’s all part of the detoxification process.

Side note: Dr. G assured me that this pain I feel is NOT the result of all the tequila I consume on a regular basis. That helped me feel a little better about myself. 😉

Other side note: One of the Mennonite moms stopped me this morning just outside the laundry room to ask me if I was feeling better today.

“Better,” I said, “but not good.”

“Well, you didn’t look good AT ALL yesterday.”

Bitch, don’t you think I know that already?

Of course, I kept this last comment to myself and chalked it up to inferior Mennonite social skills…but I’ll be spending these next few days isolating in my room until I’m ready to go back out there in shorts and a tank top, just to antagonize them. 🤭

(19-01-29) Weekly Regimen

It took me an entire week to get my schedule down, but I think I have got it.

MONDAYS, WEDNESDAYS, & FRIDAYS

  • 8:00 – nebulizer
  • 8:20-8:40 – eat breakfast, with freshly squeezed orange juice
  • post-breakfast – morning meds: multivitamin, B17 vitamin, and two anti-cancer drugs (Arimidex and Talidomida)
  • 8:45-10:00 – chelation therapy
  • 10:45-1:45ish – drip bags of amino acids and electrolytes
  • 12:00-12:30 – eat lunch, with cuachalate tea
  • 1:00 – coffee/mushroom/shark cartilage enema
  • 2:00-2:30 – ozone therapy
  • 2:40-3:40 – cabbage therapy
  • post-cabbage – take a shower
  • pre-dinner – daily check-in with Dr. Rubio, Sr.
  • 5:00-6:00 – dinner, with electrolyte tea and/or ozone water
  • 6:00-12ish (Mondays and Wednesdays only) – 3 bags: stem cells, cancer vaccine, and meds (antibiotic, antihistamine, and pain med)
  • 6:00-2:00ish (Fridays only) – 2nd of 4 chemotherapy meds
  • 8:00-8:20 – nebulizer

………………………………………………………….

TUESDAYS

  • 7:45 – blood drawn, to be mixed with cancer vaccine for next week
  • 8:00 – nebulizer
  • 8:20-8:40 – breakfast with freshly squeezed orange juice
  • post-breakfast – take meds
  • 8:45-10:00 – chelation therapy
  • 9:15 – lymphatic foot bath
  • 9:45 – Rife therapy
  • 10:15-3:45ish – drip bags with amino acids, minerals, and electrolytes
  • 12-12:30 – lunch, with cuachalate tea
  • 1:14-1:45 – ozone therapy
  • 1:55-3:00 – cabbage therapy
  • post-cabbage – take a shower
  • pre-dinner – daily check-in with Dr. Rubio, Sr.
  • 5:00-5:45 – eat dinner, with ozone water and/or electrolyte tea
  • 6:00-12ish – 3 bags: stem cells, cancer vaccine, and meds (antibiotic, antihistamine, and pain med)
  • 8:00-8:20 – nebulizer

………………………………………………………..

THURSDAYS

same as Tuesdays, except I get one of my four chemo meds at night

……………………………………………………………

SATURDAYS & SUNDAYS

(basically, no cabbage, foot bath, enema, or Rife therapy treatments; no vaccines; no blood draws; and no daily check-ins with Dr. Rubio, Sr.)

  • 8:00 – nebulizer
  • 8:20-8:40 – eat breakfast, with freshly squeezed orange juice
  • post-breakfast – morning meds
  • 9:00-6:00 – drip bags of chelation therapy, amino acids, minerals, and electrolytes
  • 12:00-12:30 – eat lunch, with cuachalate tea
  • 2:00-2:30 – ozone therapy
  • 5:00-6:00 – dinner, with electrolyte tea and/or ozone water
  • 6:00-12am – chemotherapy
  • 8:00-8:20 – nebulizer

(19-01-28) Coffee Enemas

(Dad, don’t read this.)

Well, THAT was humiliating.

For the record, I see why bulimic people get down with enemas. The results are immediate. I have been bloated and stopped up all week, but after just one treatment I can (vaguely) feel my hip bones again.

Yeah, if I had an eating disorder, I could see this process being the way to go.

But I DON’T have an eating disorder, so this experience was straight up horrible.

First, I had to pull my pants down and lie facedown on my bed, on top of some pee pads. Having my pants pooled around my ankles and my shirt still on reminded me of childhood whippings, which – in hindsight – explains the wave of panic that crossed over my body as I started to lie down. Then, Nurse Becky told me to relax (‘cuz saying that ALWAYS helps) as she shoved a lubricated hose up my asshole. As she pushed the tube in farther, the pressure slowly built – in a way that suggested things should be LEAVING that space, not entering it. Then, when she started flushing the area with the liquid (which includes coffee, shiitake mushrooms, and shark cartilage!), I could feel the pressure continue to expand, this time all along my stomach. It felt like a ridiculously long time; in reality, it probably lasted 30 seconds. She then took the tube out and immediately I felt the liquid start draining out. It felt like I was peeing all over myself, from my butthole. Nurse Becky told me to continue lying there for 5-10 minutes … “but if you feel you have to go [poop], get up and go to the bathroom.”

She could not get out of my room fast enough. The second the door closed, I had those pee pads wrapped around and between my legs, and I raced to the bathroom. Enemas are efficient; I’ll give you that. Still, I’m hoping I can keep these treatments to a MINIMUM; I’ll take the fart smell of boiled cabbage all over my upper body ANY DAY to a womyn flushing out my rectum.

(19-01-28) Grumpy

I know I am supposed to be 100% positive the entire time I am here.

This morning, I am failing.

I’m grumpy because I was up a lot last night, coughing and rubbing my screaming stomach with calculated clockwise motions.

I’m grumpy because I don’t think the food here caters enough to a cancer patient, and it’s DEFINITELY not giving me enough fiber.

I’m grumpy because later today I have to do an enema, and I am REALLY not looking forward to that. In fact, Dr. Rubio Sr told me a week ago that I needed to be doing coffee enemas, and I have purposely NOT brought that up to any of the nurses because the mere thought of it grosses me out. I mean, I can handle a finger in there every once in a while (and once a glow-in-the-dark baby Jesus butt plug, but that’s a whole different story) … but a hose? Up my bum?? Fuck, man.

I’m grumpy because I have to talk about gas and feces with a cute doctor who has twinkle eyes. I would like to officially request that all my doctors going forward are ugly. Ugly and old. But especially ugly.

I’m grumpy because I miss my half dozen pets back home.

I’m grumpy because Hulu doesn’t work here in Mexico.

I’m grumpy because my treatments leave me to have to wait until 3 or 4 in the afternoon to take a shower, which means I walk around half the day with some jacked up bed head, and I didn’t think to bring a hat.

I’m grumpy because most days I am hooked up to bags of chelation, electrolytes, amino acids, and/or chemotherapy for 13 hours at a time. Wheeling around a metal pole every where I go basically means I am confined to the clinic.

I’m grumpy because I don’t have any chocolate in my room, and I know the pharmacy is just a five-minute walk outside, but I am trying to be good.

I’m grumpy because i won’t see my significant other for weeks.

I’m grumpy because I agreed to replace my deodorant with limes (yes, limes), and now I am paranoid about going outside by the pool and inducing a level of funk that could parallel some of these Mennonite lady patients.

I’m grumpy because it has now been four months of me not exercising. I can see the difference, and I can FEEL the difference. I would give a LOT to be able to play a racquetball game right now…or feel my feet start to go numb as I pass the sixth or seventh mile on the elliptical.

I’m grumpy because even though those ozone shots fixed the pain in my knee and right hip, it’s only made me more conscious of the pain in my back, left femur head, and pelvis.

I’m grumpy because every time I try to go into the common room, to use the computer or try out the massage chair, the room is filled with Mennonites who just stare at me.

… It’s only been a week, but I am missing my old life something fierce right now.