If you are going through hell, keep going.

Those were Sir Winston Churchill's words.

Whenever you are in the middle of pain or dispair, it seems that life will never get back to a peaceful and enjoyable spot. But once you have made it there, to that quiet stronghold were desperation is over, it is hard to believe how disheartened and hopeless you felt before.

We all know stories, sometimes too close for comfort, about persons who got so deep into pain that they could not find the way back from that dark place. They died. Often by their own hand.

I lived a whole life thinking of suicide as a legitimate option. I was stuck in hell, instead of going through hell. I was chained to hell, because my mind created the conditions and was born into them. Those far and distant feelings have long stopped playing games with my mind. ThIs time around, my center can hold.

Today I am feeling like shit, positively. Karina lovingly took me to my chemo session, and everything seemed ok. But I am feeling bad since I arrived at home. I have a nonstop nausea creeping up my throat. My head and eyes hurt and my legs are unbearable. It's apparently, the onset of the first symptoms of peripheral neuropathy--one of the hallmark side effects of Taxol.

But his time around, I will proceed differently. While the cancer treatment is making me physically sick as a pig, it will not play games with my mind. If the my next chemo sessions are to be reloaded, the only think I can do is to keep walking. If I will be oing through hell, I have to keep going. Only by keeping going I will be able to emerge at the far side, laughing, triumphant, stronger than ever and craving a healthy, love-infused life.

I. WILL. KEEP. GOING.

The hospital is empty today...

No one wants to be poisoned one day before Christmas, I guess. That should allow for a speedy treatment. Maybe instead of arriving home around 9:30, we can be there by 8? We could watch a movie before going to sleep... Or another episode of the series about the Kennedys, which Warren gave me when he came.

This is my 9th chemical romance. I got a bad cold on Tuesday, which turned my head into a haze on Wednesday night, and put me back on yet another set of antibiotics. The third in two weeks. I am still a bit clogged, but feeling better.

Gabriel is getting ready to spend the whole afternoon surfing the web while he watches me sleep under the heavy blanket of antihistamines. He smiles and has secured an order to rice pudding for my dinner tray. I am so happy to be with him and see his curly head, as he plays away the hours here. He gives me a reason to feel happy, and laugh and smile every day, even when I am weak and down.

Nr. 9 will be over tonight.

Thank you all...

...for the messages, emails, phone calls, visits and funny videos you sent to cheer me up! Ann, the ducklings made my day!

Warren told me that my sickness would serve the purpose of letting me know, once and for all, that my friends love me for who I am, and not only because of what I do. And, in fact, you are making a huge difference in the way I am living through this!

I am happy to report that I am feeling better and ready for an appointment with my onc tomorrow. I am a bit stronger, and feeling as if I was about to emerge from the flu-like wave under which I am tumbling around. Every good day renews my spirit for the bad days.

Thank you for so much love and support! Every little gesture and word is counting, making me realize that not only Gabriel and you, but I as well, deserve the perspective of coming out at the other side of this wood, victorious.

Sick again...

I knew that it was not normal, but thought that within the parameters of weekly poisoning, it was not terrible. But once I was connected to the Matrix yesterday, and the doctor heard that I bleed every time I go to the toilet, he wanted to suspend my chemo again. They ran blood tests, and I was hitting the lower end of all permissible ranges--but still barely within range.

The doctor ordered a whole additional set of studies and I was put back on antibiotics--twice as many as one week ago.

I am confused and scared. If this is the result of one single poison drip after my week off, how will I make it through the eight that are left? And if I need more weeks off? Will this extend for much longer than originally envisioned?

I know that I should be grateful because I am not dying of this disease, and thus whatever I need to do opens a positive perspective into the future. But I am tired, and keeping a fragile equilibrium between a high spirit and going insane of isolation, multiple small pains, constant discomfort and relentless inactivity.

I don't wan to spend a whole year feeling sick and weak and tired. I feel sad and beaten up.

Yet another look...

When I went on the hunt for the perfect wig, I was disappointed by the boring, old-lady-like appearance of most of them. The styling of wigs, at least in this country, leaves a lot to be desired. A friend told me that I should go to a big costume store in downtown Mexico City. But with my ebbing energy, making it all the way to downtown, wig-hunting and coming back, seemed like an impossible mission. My neighbor told me of yet another place, which is coincidentally on the way between our place and Manu's.

When I entered the store, I was excited with the variety. Blue, green, purple wigs, long, short, straight and curly wigs... I saw at least ten that I liked. Most of them I did not like on me, though. That is where I got the punk-ish wig that almost looks like myself--at least in spirit and intention--which I posted some days ago.

I also saw a curly wig that I liked a lot. I loved it because it is the kind of hair that I would like to have. This would be the hair of my very dark-skinned or black alter ego, and I would arrange it into tiny braids. Very cool.

When Gabo took me to the movies to see The Muppets, I wore this wig. I sunk into my seat and felt like the little girl I was when my dad introduced me to The Muppets' Show. When we left the theater, I saw my reflection in a window. I had to laugh at myself. This wig doesn't make me look cool--it makes me look like Fozzie Bear!

So, here it is for you to see: my Fozzie Bear-like alter ego.

Seven down... Nine more to go.

I can feel that the vacation is over. On Friday was my seventh session of Taxol, and I immediately notice that I am back to being toxic. My tummy feels funny again, my throat starts hurting, my eyes ache and the sunlight is painful. But, I am not feeling to bad.

I will have no break over the holidays, which is not terrible. Gabriel and I will go on vacation once the weekly sessions are over. But we will certainly need a good rest after all of this!

But today is Sunday. And Sundays at home are always great. Sunday is, by definition, the best day in happy land. Even if I am on chemo!

Today, I felt almost normal...

Skipping one week of chemo has done wonders to my body and my spirit!

I have had no nausea today, which made me prompt Gabriel and Tania to go out for lunch. We went to one of my favorite restaurants in the center of Coyoacan, and I had one of my favorite pizzas...

I drank a can of coke zero, complete.

I worked for the whole day, which I haven't done in quite a while.

My throat didn't hurt and I had no headache.

And, I still had energy walked the doggies.

Today, the sun was shining and I felt not sick.

What about this rock star???

Or, to be true to reality, what do you think about me rocking this punk-ish wig?
I took this pic on friday, when I was still sick, going for my blood tests. I am all covered up because of that...

The funniest part of it was that the nurse told me that my hair style was amazing, and she asked how long it takes to get it in place every morning... I said 5 seconds :)

So, I like it. This is the wig I like best.

More to come...

A break!! It sounds like the best gift ever!

I fell sick yesterday, with my body temperature dropping to 35 C. If I had been feeling flu-like for the last four weeks, yesterday got really bad. Gabriel called the doctor, who gave us two options: a sprint to the ER or start taking antibiotics immediately and see if something improved. We chose the latter.

Today was not as bad, but I spent the whole day in bed, feeling more or less like crap. When we called the oncologist to give our report of the day, he said that I was officially on vacation. No chemo for me this week!!!!

I. Cannot. Believe. It.

This is the best piece of news I could get. I am sooooo exhausted of this weekly drill, and I feel so weak and with so many different pains shooting through my body. My scar has been hurting a lot. My whole left side, from the waist up, is tender if I touch it. My arm is in pain. My eyes and my throat are sore.

A break. Oh. My. Dog. Thank you, I badly needed it.