The Truth

I'm sorry I haven't written in a while.

Between my gallbladder surgery, the transplant and trying to survive life at home, I'm just wiped out and sort of unmotivated.

Everytime I tried to write a blog, I just felt uninspired and closed my computer because I was writing literal shit. It was terrible.

In all honesty, for the past five months we've thought nothing about this stem cell transplant. I've been holding my own I think pretty good until now.

It was kind of like I kept repeating to myself over and over, "we just have to get to the transplant, we have to get to the transplant..."

That was me trying to take things one day at a time.

I didn't want to think too much about the transplant process, because I didn't want to be away from my babies that long. The doctors and staff said they'd make arrangements and exceptions for me given my circumstances. But I never asked what they meant by it or how many times I'd actually get to see them.

And emotionally, it was very difficult seeing them. My mind wasn't right. I just couldn't shake this "hospital-funk" that had me all in a tizzy.

I've made friends with a lot of the nurses, which is easy to do because you're around them for so long.  Except for those times I was in a lot of pain and they probably thought I was the patient from hell.

And even when you're walking the halls you see patients one day, and the next you don't. You hear about one passing on who never got to the transplant stage or learn of one I was supposed to meet, because we were around the same age, went home post-trans and got an infection that cost her her life.

That's why it's so serious that I be extremely cautious right now. It's not just my immune system being low, but I'm taking medication that also suppresses the immune system. There are so many lists of things I can't do or be around...

--People mowing their lawns
--People digging in the dirt or planting plants
--I can't dig in the dirt or flower bed
--No fresh flowers
--No cats or kitty litter
--No vegetables that are hard to wash unless we wash & steam them ourselves
--No changing diapers
--No cleaning up dog fluids
--No dusting or cleaning the house
--No one who has a runny nose or shows any signs/symptoms of sickness

Among many other things...

It's exhausting thinking about it.

And frustrated when I look at my house and want to swiffer my floors, because I see all the dust and hair floating around.

I guess the truth is I'm scared.

I'm afraid of getting sick and going back into the hospital. Unfortunately, it will probably happen again at some point--I hope not--but it probably will; I'm just trying to be realistic.

It's very scary.

I'm afraid of a lot right now.

I'm showing some signs of GVHD, which is a good thing. They want that a little. But my face is darkening and becoming more red with bumps on it, so everyday I look in the mirror afraid it's going to be worse. I'm itching all over now and have darkening of the skin in a lot of other places (which they say is the chemo I had prior to the transplant). And my eyes are getting worse, just more blurry and having trouble seeing things far off. But I've got dry eyes, no eyelashes and pretty much my left eyebrow is a goner.

I look like the cancer patient from hell.

I'm hideous.

If it gets really bad (the skin) that could mean another hospitalization. But most likely I'll start oral steroids first. Which the side effects of that include, mood swings, messes with my bones, weight gain, etc.

No, I don't want weight gain, I don't want any more issues with any thing in my body and I already have enough mood swings for a lifetime in one day.

And then, on Friday, I had another bone marrow biopsy. Whoopee.

Don't get all worried; it's standard to have one so many weeks post transplant. It hurt but it wasn't too bad.

The hardest thing we've had to deal with is trying to balance our home life. I can't drive myself to the doctor, plus Klay doesn't want me to drive or go to the doc alone. It's hard because someone has to watch the kids while we go to the doctor (no kids are allowed at the doctor under age 14) and then someone has to drive me to the doctor. And someone needs to be here with me at home to help with the kids cause I'm tired and can't change diapers.

I guess that brings up a lot of issues for me emotionally. I can't do anything to help. Everyone is busy and I get that, but we got a cancer sitch over here and I hate to say it--we need help. Klay's doing everything pretty much by himself--cooks, cleans, bathes the kids, changes ever diaper, gets up with Bex in the middle of the night (sometimes I get up too so I can feed him--that is the one thing I can do).

He works, he goes to school, comes home and then he is the mommy and the daddy.

This Mother's Day was a hard one for me. I just feel there is more distance now between me and my kids. I'm not the one taking care of them everyday, playing and changing diapers and that's hard for me. I know I need to get healthy so I can go back to the way things were.

But it's not just that. My energy is low and I get tired so fast. I can't cook, clean or take care of the kids. So if I'm not a wife and a mother than who am I?

I don't have a job and with everything else I don't feel like I'm contributing anything to anyone. I'm quieter more now than I've ever been in my life. There isn't much that keeps me talking.

I feel like I'm here, but I'm not here.

This is just how I feel. I can't help how I feel.

There are a lot of people going through much worse than me. I know that.

I'm just over all of this. I am over the appointments. I'm afraid of so much--of something coming back, of experiencing pain like I did with my gallbladder, of losing my mind, of not being close with my kids.

And the whole "mind" thing is a real deal. I can't remember if I take my medicine sometimes, I can barely comprehend what people are saying sometimes (I don't know if this is because I'm too tired to talk or what?), and I've been having trouble with my balance.

I ran into Bex's pack n play, which he was in, in the middle of the night and then into the wall two seconds later... having no sense of direction. It was ridiculous.

Klay sprung out of bed and asked "Cass, Cass what's going on? Are you OK?"

And he walked me back to bed after I got a drink of water and some medicine.

Who knows? It could be chemo brain or these drugs I'm on. It's probably both.

I had something else I was gonna say but now I can't remember...

..............

..............

..............

Ugh, Fuck it.

--THE NEXT DAY--

On the upside, I am at home and not in the hospital. (Actually right now I'm at the hospital on this Saturday to run labs and make sure my liver numbers look good. Crossing my fingers!)

But since I've been staying home, I am spending time with the kids, which I love. Bex is trying to talk and laugh. It's so sweet and that boy does have the biggest smile. He has started teething so he's become a bit of a ham and he gets a little whiny from time to time, but those are the stages these little ones go through...

Brody is bouncing off the walls so happy that mama and daddy are home. He is so smart and talks SO  SO SO much. I don't know where he gets it from... LOL. He loves being a big brother, and he's very dramatic (I don't know where he gets that from either). Them two like this is a rarity.

They bring joy to my life but it also makes me sad to know they don't get mama's normal interaction as they would if I didn't have this cancer stuff.

I want life to be normal again. Simple. I know it's going to be a long time before that happens, and I have to stay strong and stay motivated to get up and move around.

Today I've actually felt somewhat better than have in over a week, so I'm hoping that's a good sign.

So please my dearest liver, don't EFF with me today.
I don't want to be here at the hospital again.

I'm kinda in a good mood, my spirits are a little better today and I'll take that any day of the week.

Tired but better today,

How I Ended Up Back In the Hospital

I went home Friday, and although I wasn't able to share all the details of that until today, I began writing this post Sunday and then all hell broke loose during the week.. So I'm sorry for my lateness. But here is a mashup of my week since Friday.

--Friday, April 24--

I never thought I would be so happy to be home. There is nothing like sleeping in your own bed, around the people you love and being able to be free to roam and do as you will because, well, it is yours.

I literally thought the day would never arrive.

Spending a month in the hospital this time was much more difficult than the last (when Bex was born and I got my first round of chemo). Then, Bex and I were both in the hospital and I could focus on seeing him and spending time with him (when they'd allow me to when I wasn't sick). But it was a different experience.

This time, I loathed the hospital. I didn't want hospital food. I was tired of how the hospital soap smelled that I had to wash my hands with 28334738 times a day. I was tired of looking out of the same window wishing I could just go outside and breathe "real" air. I was tired of the IV pump beeping every 20 minutes or whenever one of my lines kinked and needed fixing. I hated having to ask someone to let me off bed alarm so I could go to the bathroom because I was considered a "fall risk." I don't know if I even told you guys about that night...

My days were long, my weeks were longer and then it literally seemed in possible for me to come out on the other side. I thought I was going to go bat shit cray cray.

But here I am, back at home, with all my boys. And I'm so happy to be home.

When Klay and I pulled up to the house there was a waiting party with balloons, a "Welcome Home" sign and a beautiful newly upgraded flower bed, thanks to my wonderful neighbors who do so much for us.

They've done it all. They've let the dogs out, purchased toys and leashes to take them on walks, they've donated money, they've re-done our flowerbed (making it more beautiful than it's ever been), they've brought us food, mowed our yard, they've been there when we needed someone to talk to, they have kept an eye on the house when we aren't there... And that's only the beginning of a very long, long list.

They are so thoughtful and mean so much to us. I'm so glad they were brought into our lives. We just love you two, Carl and Jana. Thank you for being our rocks during this time. You are and always will be a part of our family now. We don't know how we will ever be able to repay you.

I know the next three months are going to be extremely tough too.

I'm not supposed eat any fast food or food from restaurants, which my taste is way off and everything taste like shit anyway so it doesn't really matter. But when you have three or more doctor appointments in one week, you have to come prepared, and I am not prepared because I have to depend on everyone else to get me prepared (aka go to the grocery, make a meal, and for me to grab it for lunch on the way out).

I can't do anything for three months.

--No vacuuming, cleaning or dusting.
--No changing diapers.
--No dealing with doggy poo and pee. Don't do that anyway.
--I CANNOT be around cats or kitty litter.
--No veggies/fruits without peel on them unless they are canned or frozen.
--And a whole bunch of other shit, I don't remember...

Needless to say, with me feeling like I was whacked with a sledgehammer and completely exhausted, Klay is like a single-parent for the next few. I can feed Bex and try to entertain the kids, but I have to have someone there with me all the time to help me with them.

And I get tired just getting dressed for the day. I'm wiped out.

Plus, I have to take extra precautions to try to not get sick. If I get sick, it could be very serious and most likely will land me in the hospital (where I don't want to be).

--Tuesday, April 28, 1 a.m.--

At 1 am Tuesday morning, I started having severe abdominal pain. The pain woke me up and hit me out of no where.

I thought was having another gas attack like I dd before, but this time it felt slightly different. My tummy (up by my breast bones and around my ribs down on the right side of my stomach) were extremely tinder to the touch and my actual abdominal area (near my belly button and below) were softer and not as bloated as before.

I wasn't sure what was going on. Similar pain that I though may resolve with releasing some gas, but by 7 am and NO SLEEP, I couldn't keep it up.

We already had another doctor appointment scheduled for Tuesday afternoon, but we called and they told us to come in to find out what's going on.

Off we went to the Dallas--again for the the third time this week since Sunday--to the hospital. Of course we hit morning traffic which added nearly 50 minutes to our already 35-40 min commute. And I was in so much pain I couldn't think.

I had vomited twice at the house already and everything I'd eaten the night before between 4-6 had come up and it was not digested at all. I had some peanut butter and a banana, which is high in fat, so they said that could have kickstarted this whole thing, though it was waiting to happen.

Apparently gallstones, kidney stones, etc are hereditary and happen often to women post-pregnancy. So on top of everything else I have going on, I've just added another few stones on my journey to recovery.

I ended up having to stay overnight Tuesday so they could to a CT scan and ultrasound in the AM and then also to keep my pain a minimum.

I did get some heavy, much-needed sleep finally. I slept hard.

It might have been the drugs.
It might have been the fact I'd been awake FOREVER.
It might have been that I'd seen my kids this past weekend.
It might have been I was rejuvenated from my stay at home (though it was brief).

But whatever it was, I slept hard. I was out.

I was so happy to see my nurses though when I came back up to the floor!

--Wednesday, April 29--

After completing a CT scan, my doctor wanted to do an ultrasound as well. So yesterday was quite busy for me. I had to run around and do all of these tests.

The pain had become tolerable but it was still there, so I was OK with that for the time being.

After my ultrasound the doctors said my gallbladder was really inflamed and hazy looking and there were gallstones in there, plus a few in each of my kidneys.

As soon as my ultrasound was finished, they brought me back upstairs. Klay had school so he had to leave, but then the "surgeon" came in and told me, we needed to remove it today ASAP.

So ON TOP OF THE BIG C, I have to have a surgery to remove my damn gallbladder? What are the effin' chances?

Klay was running to CVS for me to grab a few feminine products I've needed (because, oh yeah, I've been bleeding for 5 or 6 weeks). #plugmeup

I have to wear pads to reduce infection-risks.

And then he had to run out to Academy to get a few fresh items of clothes since we didn't grab any in the rush to leave the house from the hospital.

By 3:30 pm, I was being wheeled down for gallbladder-removal surgery.

Insane. I did not wake up early this morning thinking I'd be making a trip to the OR. But I knew I couldn't suffer another gallbladder attack again.

I was under for about two hours or so.

It was a laparoscopic surgery, so there were was incisions made in my belly and three around my rib cage, so the recovery time is supposed to be better.

Of course since I'm immuno-suppressed, it may take a bit longer for me to heal. And they actually said post-operation that is why mine got so bad so quickly. Normally it takes a few days for someone to experience that much pain and for their gallbladder to look the way mine did, and it only took mine 8-16 hours.

When I woke, I was in pretty bad pain. I feel like someone had stabbed me and it was burning. I didn't think I'd be in the much pain post-operation, but I was.

I was that annoying person who wakes up groggy and confused and is saying "give me pain med. I'm hurting, I'm hurting."

Yep that was me--the whiner.

It was past 7 pm, by the time I woke up.

Once the doctor came out to talk to Klay in the waiting room, (and they wouldn't let him back in the OR recovery area), Klay came up to wash our clothes he had purchased and the nice clothes I came up here with, since I was now sporting an epic blue gown with a gorgeously planned out square design on it. #dontbejealous #makeitwork

--Thursday, April 30--

So the surgeon who performed the procedure came in this morning to tell me that my gallbladder was pretty "ugly" and inflamed. I had a few gallstones that were in the canal trying to make their way down to my liver but they got there just in time, but that would have made things incredibly worse. He did biopsy my liver because he said it looked a little nasty too, but my oncologist said that's to be expected with such high doses of chemo I'm

It was definitely the right decision to remove the gallbladder.

Sucky thing is: NO high fatty foods for two-three weeks. #aintthatsomebull

Dammit dude, I'm already having a tough time with what to eat at home, now this too? Shit. I'm screwed. But I am losing weight though, just not the way I would want to do it.

I'm supposed to be on clear liquids the rest of the day. I haven't eaten since Monday around 6 pm. #bitchesbestarvingaroundhere

Honestly though, I haven't wanted to eat. My appetite is not the best right now anyway. But for real though, a bean burrito sounds amaze balls. Just saying'.

I am missing home and my boys a lot. I just want to be with them. And I know this is really confusing for Brody. They are saying that I should be able to go home tomorrow. They just want to make sure that I'm doing OK for a full day prior to discharge. And I get that.

I got a bigger room this time. Go figure. In here a few days and get a bigger room, in here for over a month, get a smaller, more cramped room and bathroom. Oh, hospital logic... is there any?

I am getting up and moving around on my own, which is good.
Mostly, I'm just sore and tired.

I figured you guys needed a hefty update! So much has happened since I last wrote. I'll try to be more prompt this week. Got some more news (good news) to share soon!

OH! My friend Jaycie is hosting a Younique (a beauty product line) in my honor. She is donating all of her commission to me. If you think you're interested in some of their amazing products (I love their 3D Fiber Lash Mascara), visit her page on Facebook here and her Younique product page here. 

You can also watch a video of my review of the 3D mascara (which I did pre-cancer diagnosis and pre-Bex pregnancy) here. Video at the bottom of post.

So please help us out and order something for yourself (while also helping me out too)!

Hope all is out there in the world with you normal folks! Enjoy your days at work, your days with family and your time at home.

Tired, sore and feeling anything "but" sexy in my blue gown,

Letter Series Vol. 2 // A Letter To My Donor

Writing a letter to someone you don't know and thanking them for something of this magnitude is a hard task to tackle.

I think I've written a letter to someone I didn't know before. It was probably many years ago and in grade school a few times--a member of our military, a child overseas, etc--a designated pen-pal, if you will.

You probably remember those. The one thing I do know about you is you're around my age, so I'm assuming you remember handwritten letters and good ole snail mail. And after all of this time, of all of the countless letters I've written, if I could choose one to be handwritten, it would be this one.

Maybe eventually I can send you one through the donor registry, but until then I have a lot of work to do... so I guess I should focus there first.

But a day doesn't go by that I wonder who you are and what you're like.

Is she from the US?
Does she live in Germany?
Does she have kids?
What kinds of hobbies she like to do?
Does she want to meet me?
What did she think when she got a phone call saying she was a match?
Why did she decide to become a part of the registry?

I have so many questions and thoughts running through my brain about the kind of person you are.

But now that I've gone through with the transplant and parts of who you are becoming part of me, I wanted to write and really try to explain my thoughts, feelings and gratitude.

I've never dreamt I'd write a letter to you--whoever you are--and say the following, but here it goes:

Thank you for giving me a chance, a chance to live a longer life with my family and friends. 

Thank you for giving me an opportunity to make a difference in their lives. 

Thank you for saving me from being released from the gravity of this Earth too soon. 

Thank you for giving me something that is rightfully yours that was internally and scientifically made for you for your body, and sharing it with me to give me a chance to live longer.

Thank you for giving me hope. 

Thank you for giving my family hope and some peace of mind.

Thank you for taking the time to fill out the registry. Who would have ever thought that there are two people essentially made up of the same DNA--blood or whatever inside--and we've never even met? 

Thank you for taking time out of your life to do this for someone you don't know. It shows how unselfish and thoughtful you are.

Thank you for not passing up this opportunity to save someone's life. I hope that you will want to meet me one day, as I'd love to meet you.

Please never feel guilty if you never want to be contacted. I couldn't imagine giving something from your body--some of your anatomy--to save a stranger's life and finding out it didn't work. 

If that happens (it won't) but if it did, it's not your fault. You tried. You just happened to be the lucky person to have to the inside-goodies to match mine.

And that's what matters; you found that out and you've followed through donating your stem cells and  given me a fighting chance at life. There is nothing more I can ask for than that, truly.

Some people battling this disease don't even make it this far; they never make it into remission. I did it in one try. It seems like I'm supposed to go through this, right? Maybe we are supposed to meet and this is just the way we have to do it. 

Who knows what God has in store for us? 

What I do know is that I could NEVER express my gratitude for your act of kindness. I just wish there was someway I could give back or give back to the community for your act of selflessness. 

I wish I knew what I could do or what to say to you, but the truth is I don't. I don't know what to say. 

I'm sorry for that. 

The magnitude of the possibility of what you're giving me is far too large for a few words on a tiny screen. I wish I could do more. I wish I could say more. I've honestly never been so at a loss for words in my life. And to the people who know that personally have never witnessed that in my 27 years of life. I'm a talker;  I like to talk.

But I truly don't know what to say.

And maybe it's better not to say too much in this case. The simplest "thank you" may be the best. 

Thank you for giving me some more light at the end of my life. Whether it's one minute, one year, two years, ten, twenty or fifty, thank you to you, my donor, whoever and whereever you are.

I will cherish every bit of it and bask in the rays of light. 

Forever grateful & warm,

Burden

Dear Emotions,

I hate you.

My soul feels like it's being drug down a slowly sinking mud pit. If I let it, it will consume me and I will be no more.

I cannot let my spirit fall in here. I will not.

I have to keep fighting and pushing and always remember that "this too shall pass."

Today, though, I emotionally couldn't hold anything in. I saw my boys, I cried. I cried when I went to the bathroom just to give me a moment alone. I cried when they left for the night. I cried in my hands when I went back to my jail cell that's keeping us apart for yet another night.

And I'm jealous. And I'm angry. And I'm hurt.

I'm jealous I'm not having a so-called "normal" life right now with my family. And I know there are people out there battling so much more than what I have on my plate before me, but it doesn't stop me from having all of these emotions.

I'm angry because I feel like I'm burdening everyone who tries to help us out while I lay in a bed fighting this disease doing nothing. I know why I'm doing it (why I'm laying here). I need our family and friends' support to get through these next few weeks, but I'm the type of person I don't like to ask for help--in fact I despise the idea.

If you want help, sure, I'll help you. But don't think for a second I'll just come and ask for help if I need it. I don't know why I'm that way. It's just who I am.

My friend Wanda said it best in a letter she wrote to "The Kidd Kraddick Morning Show." She said, "asking for help was not in Cass's DNA." Click here to listen to me on "The Kidd Kraddick Morning Show."

It's really not. I hate asking for help. I hate having to depend on people to do things I'm responsible for. I hate it all.

I know that right now in this time of need, I shouldn't hesitate for help, but I feel so much like a burden. Even burdening to Klay at times. His life wasn't supposed to go this way--married with two kids in our mid- to late-20s and with a wife who has cancer. He got the shitty end of the stick. And that's not fair.

If something happens to me, he has to start all over again.

This is my life and I should have control of it.
I should, but I don't.
My body has taken control and I'm fighting this fight to live and to gain my control back.

I just pray this transplant works. I know there will be more trying times in the future, but I just want to get the transplant done. The bummer thing about the transplant is that it's pretty uneventful they just fuse the stem cells through my trifusion line. Nothing fancy, no snazzy surgery prep, it's just like a basic blood transfusion.

Womp, womp, womp.

My emotions are just sucked dry today. Nothing is there to shine a little brighter on life today. It's like I got nothing left loaded in the gun. I'm out of ammo... nothing else is in the tank.

I just don't have much in me tonight to try to laugh and smile about anything right now. I want to be home. I want to be with my boys, my dogs and with my husband. That's all I want; and I can't have it right now.

And I feel the burden of not being able to take care of my family the way I should. I should be at home and helping them get ready for bed. I should be helping them brush their teeth and give them baths.

But instead, my eyes fill with tears blurring my vision of the computer screen, until they slide down my face--only to be followed with the multiple sobs.

My life took an unexpected turn at such an early age. I wasn't ready for it. I don't think anyone is ever ready for it.

I have cancer. I'm getting a transplant.

And all I can think to do is to apologize.

And say, I'm sorry for crying. I'm sorry I can't help you, I'm sorry I got cancer and have to ask you to watch my kids for me because they can't come up to see me. I'm sorry for being sick. I feel guilty about that.

I'd wondered what it would be like if something terrible was to happen to me and now I really know. I don't want to know any more. I don't want this anymore.

I always felt lost in the dark for most of my life. Like "that" friend that gets pushed to the side for someone cooler, better or more fun. I was never "the girl" everyone loved and everyone wanted to hang with. I was the one the girls hated and were mean to because I don't even know why. I wasn't mean or never tried to be. But I've had milkshakes thrown at my car, my face marked out in photos around the school, brownies put in my seat so I'd sit them. People who've said "Leave that gum in that chair cause Cass is coming to sit."

And all I've ever wanted is a friend--a true friend--that at the end of the day had my back. But throughout my younger years, my "friends" used and discarded me when they no longer needed me around or if it was better to follow another person or crowd. They got tired of being my friend because people were really mean to them to for being my friend.

I never understood that. I just wanted friends--real friends. So I guess in a pity-self-loathing time of my life I wondered what it would be like if something like this--life-threatening--were to happen to me, would people truly care?

I tried to imagine it. But I couldn't.

And now I'm here. It's not an imagination; it's a reality.
And gosh do I feel stupid for trying to imagine such a thing.

And it sucks for me, my boys and my husband.
And I'm sorry to you three for imagining such a life. I know it was just a thought, but it's come to fruition.

I need you boys to know that if mommy could take care of you, she would. If they would let you sleep up here with me, you'd be here by my side.

Klay, you know I have to send you home for them. My heart misses you so deeply tonight when you're not here with me. And it's nights like tonight I just need to know your near me and I immediately feel better. We don't have to talk, touch, I just need you to be.

But I know how important it is for you to get your time in with our little guys too. They need daddy-time and you need some time to rest at home, away from the cancer-chaos and your meltdown-wifey.

I'm sorry for all of the stress and work that has been thrust on your shoulders the past four months. You have stood by me every second of the way, and it's only made us stronger as a couple. I could never imagine having anyone else by my side for the rest of my life. I love you.

And that's what I am thankful for through this process--my kids, my boys, my friends and family, and the people who've commented, read, purchased t-shirts and supported me through this time.

I know I have people who care about me now. I do. More than I honestly thought did.

And thank you for doing that--supporting me. It really warms my heart and helps me get through days like this.

My brother in law Chad made this awesome video to remind me of all the support I have ready to lift me up at any time. It's a beautiful video and I love it. It's of you guys who posted photos on the day I was getting my transplant to let me know you all were thinking of me and praying for us. Thanks, Chad for putting together such a great gift that I can cherish forever.


I love all of y'all and remember to live life to the fullest.

Happy and sad,

Shit's Getting Real + VLOG

OK.
Everyone.
Remain.
Calm.

I have finally got some shit out of me--literally.
And I'm a much happier person because of shit.

So my "Cass Game Face" is back on. I'm ready to kick some cancer ass and wore my "Refuse to Sink" shirt my sis got me a while back.

BIG NEWS.

Beyond the poopsie, I did shower today. 2 for 2!

BUT the shower was effin' freezing and I had NO hot water. Plus, I tried to figure out the shower head and pushed this red button that said "PALL" not "PULL" but "PALL."

I pushed said fancy red "PALL" button and the shower head shot off and hit me in the forehead.

Who the hell knew that hospital showers could be so dangerous. Now I have a mark on my forehead. Pure sweetness... sigh. Only me.

In other "Cass" news, they pushed my transplant day back a day. So I will now receive the donor stem cells on Wednesday, April 8 instead of Tuesday.

Apparently the transplant is a very anti-climatictic deal (pretty much gonna be like a blood infusion or something), so it's not anything super incredible happening that day anyway. I mean potentially it could be saving my life, so that's pretty big, but the process itself is pretty lackluster from my understanding.

"Well, dango, dango," as my husband would say.

I don't know where he gets sayings like that from. He's kind of a nut bag--or he has one! LOL... I guess two... TBD.

Actually he says he has "two nuts in one nut bag."
Ahem, now that we have that cleared up, I suppose we can move forward.

This post is very anatomy/bodily fluids-driven I feel like.

If it grosses you out, I'm in a hospital for 21 days so suck it up, buttercup!

Klay said this post is gross. I say "EFF IT. It's cancer, it's real. We all poo; it's life. Get over it."

On a non-bodily-related issue, I do miss my kids. Klay took Bex to his first doctor appointment without me and he almost weighs 12 lbs. My little chunker. The only concern for him is finding a formula better for his tummy. He has BM-issues... like me. Apparently I just have shit on the brain cause every where I go it turns into shit. Maybe this is just shit post and I should just give up while I'm ahead.

I do truly miss the boys though. It's really difficult for me to think about them and how they will have to understand all of this one day. I think that's what really gets to me is trying to explain why mommy had to go through this and watching their reactions.

And to end this bodily-fluidly full post, I need new undies! My shit did get real today, just not where I wanted it to. #cancerhatespanties #victoriassecrethereIcome

Here's the latest and the greatest VLOG from yours truly.

[enter corny music in 5, 4, 3, 2... VLOG]

My heart is full but my bowels are ugly,

The Match

You'd think after three months, I'd be used to this cancer BS by now. It's still a difficult thing to accept.

This is my life.

I know I've said this time and time again, but I never thought "cancer" would ever be a word used to describe some portion of my life.

I never dreamed I'd be bald and hooked up to a machine 24/7 that I have tote everywhere like an unwanted ball and chain--though I suppose no one wants a ball and chain.

I just don't get how I can be so unlucky. It's like I won the unhealthy lottery. To have been 29 weeks pregnant and find out I have acute myeloid leukemia and I have to have my baby 10 weeks early was a lot to take on. I just couldn't understand why I had to go through so much at once.

I mean it's one thing to have a premature baby in the NICU.

Then to add having cancer on top of that.

And, having a three year old at home who is going to be tossed around from house to house til we get home to some normalcy again, just seems so unfair.

All of it is unfair.

I know, I know "life is unfair."

But it's not fair that it's unfair. I say that like a little six-year-old girl throwing her fists toward the ground and stomping her foot.

It's not, it's not, it's not!

There are days through this that I feel strong, and I don't care about my bald head. Then, I look a photos of me, pre-cancer and with hair, and I wish I could feel like that girl again.

I know I'll never feel the same.

Cancer has changed me.

Everything that goes on in my life revolves around this and that in itself is exhausting.

No one wants to talk "cancer talk" all the time; it's incredibly depressing.

But I suppose what I'm about to tell you, people would want to know...

Shit's about to get real.

They

found

a

match.

Wow--those words just came out of my mouth--or more liked typed on my computer.

I'm honestly not sure if I'm even supposed to know that yet, but they narrowed it down to a donor.

The donor is on hold waiting for us to schedule a transplant date.

Of course, it's always a possibility for the donor to back out or change their mind.
Let's pray they don't.

But if this person does, they had two more people they were interested in.

This person is a 100% full match, apparently if I'm using an unrelated donor I have to have a full match, which I didn't know.

It's kind of crazy knowing there is someone out there that somehow genetically matches me and I don't even know this person.

That's insane.

It's definitely exciting though. I wonder who this person is? Where do they live? What do they do for fun? Wonder what they look like? I just want to know all I can about them.

I'm not real surprised they found a match, because they told me I would most definitely find one.

Since announcing I will have a stem cell transplant, I've received a lot of messages and comments asking how people can get tested or how they can help.

Now I may have found my match, so you may not be able to help me, but I encourage everyone to visit bethematch.org to learn more about how you can join the international registry.

From what I understand, you sign up and they send you a kit to do a quick, painless mouth swab. You mail it back to the organization and you're in the system. It's as easy as that.

And why not join the registry? You could have the chance to save someone's life.

From children to adults in their fifties and more, you might have the goods to help someone live longer. That's the most amazing thing in the world--trying to save someone's life.

I guess if I ever got a phone call saying I could save someone's life and donate my stem cells, I'd have to do it. There is a complete stranger out there and they need my help. I'm the person who can help them the way no way anyone else can. And I'd hope if one of my family members were going through this, that a donor would want to step up and do the same for me and mine.

This is pretty epic news because the odds were against me staying in remission without a transplant. Yes, I said remission; I'm considered in remission currently.

That doesn't mean I'm cured, so don't get too excited just yet.

The chances of me going into long-term remission post-transplant are 7 out of 10 and even in more recent studies show 9 out of 10, which is great, but a long road still lies ahead.

If I was unable to have a transplant, especially with my pesky FLT3 mutation, the odds of me being in long-term remission with chemo only would be 2 out of 10.

So, it's imperative that I have this transplant.

I know this is going to suck.
I know it's not going to be fun, but I'm going to do this and get better.

This isn't going to be IT for me.
It won't.
I refuse.

AML will not tear me away from my family.
So screw you AML, I'm not going anywhere.

Here's The Plan 

I should start the transplant in a month or so (probably late March or early April).

The transplant includes another round of chemo--a longer and more intense chemo--to wipe out my bone marrow and immune system. They will infuse the donor's stem cells into my body and I'll essentially develop their healthy immune system that spits out no leukemia cells.

I'm still learning the details but they did all kinds of tests while I was in the hospital to have me ready for the transplant when it's time.

Apparently I will have some other device embedded into the skin in my chest (kind of like a port but different I guess) to infuse the stem cells through. I thought they'd be doing that in my port, but clearly I'm not educated enough on this transplant stuff just yet.

I'm supposed to take a class to learn more about what will happen when it's time. I need a class. All of this stuff is very confusing.

It's crazy though. I've thought about the transplant, but I didn't want to think too much about it because I'd get so upset thinking about being away from my kids for a long time.

Three weeks is just way too long.
I hate that.

I could barely sleep the first night I was in the hospital because I missed them so bad.

I've heard people say that they will make exceptions for me. I just hope they keep their word.

My boys are growing and changing so fast, and like Steven Tyler, "I don't want to miss a thing." I know what you're thinking... "corny line, Cass." I know I literally just re-read that and cringed.

But "I don't want to miss a thing." Ugh. Stop it, Cass.

I honestly dread how much pressure will be put on my family and friends to help us out while I'm in the hospital.

I'm afraid of how sick I'll get.

I'm afraid of the GVHD crap that could make me really ill.

I'm scared of a lot of things.

But today, I'm going to focus on the positive.

The transplant is in our future.

A donor has been selected.

Things are looking up.

I will get better; I just have to.

In the mean time, I guess we will just wait for a transplant date.

I'll be twiddling my thumbs til then waiting on the stem cells to arrive... HA! Who am I kidding? I got a toddler and a newborn, my hands are full.

Side note: wouldn't it be awesome if I could get infused like Superman's stem cells? Or maybe Buffy's? Hmm... how amazing would it be if this person were a celebrity? That'd be cool. Like if I got Matthew Mcconaughey's, I'd be saying, "Alright, alright, alright. I'm just gonna keep livin' man. JKL."

LOL. I'm such a nerd. I totally said that out loud in my "Mcconaughey voice" as I typed.

Ehh... honestly I'm cool with getting stem cells from anyone who is HEALTHY.

But Matthew, if it's you, "it'd be a lot cooler [it was]."

Dazed and Kinda Confused (by the ending of my post),