Got kids? Here are fun things to do with them over the Holiday Season school break

So while I may not be doing many of the items on my list this year (because I'm in the midst of a stem cell transplant), I've managed to do several. Plus, I rely on my husband and parents to pitch in. It's ok, that's what our support structure is for, right? Anyway, here is my latest via Divorced Moms.

Merry Christmas, my dear readers!
Lizzy

15 Fun Activities For The Holiday Season
by Lizzy Smith for Divorced Moms                    

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December 20, 2015

Most children are out of school for the next two weeks. I used to fear that time because I had no idea how to keep them busy while I was trying to finish up my plans for the holidays. And then I had a mind-switch. My children were the priority, not the upcoming holiday parties. So I really attempt to get all my Christmas shopping and decorating done before school lets out. Then I am free to have fun with them, some serious mommy-daughter time. We create memories the best we can.
Together, we developed a list of things to do and we work on getting around to doing many of them. Here goes:

Go to a Nutcracker performance
This is a tradition that we have had for years. We are lucky to have an incredible ballet company in Salt Lake City. But even local Nutcracker productions, even if it’s from an elementary school, really get us in the spirit of the holidays. And I love the costumes. They are dreamy.

Hit up local Holiday concerts
I don’t know about your town, but where we live, there is some kind of holidays concert almost every night of the week—at high schools, civic centers, churches… We hit up several each season.

Go to the symphony
Yesterday, my parents took my daughters to a 45-minute Christmas symphony that was especially for children. Santa was there and the symphony played to the backdrop of Frosty the Snowman. Even my daughters, who far prefer hip-hop, loved it.

Listen to Holiday music
I almost exclusively listen to a radio station that only plays holiday tunes. My daughters get tired of it but it reminds me that it is Christmas time!

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I'm in the midst of stem cell transplant, lord help me

Last Tuesday, I received high dose melphalin. It is a high dose chemo used to treat multiple myeloma. It goes in through my port, all that heavy-duty poison going into my veins, killing all those myeloma cells and everything else. The injection takes place over about an hour, with the melphalin lasting only about 30 minutes. And my job is to pack my mouth with ice for that entire time, non stop, so I don't develop all kinds of awful mouth sores. Afterwards, I drove myself home and got some lunch. After all, I should not feel the effects of this horrible chemo for a week or so.

Wrong they were! That night, I felt queasy and twitchy. Like my muscles all over were twitching. I felt "not right" at all. I scrambled and packed my bags. My intent was to go to clinic the next day, get my stem cells injected, go home and spend the evening with my family, and then drive myself to my clean apartment in Salt Lake City that night alone. Think again, I knew I would feel to awful for that to happen.

The next morning, I picked up my mom and we went to clinic. It was stem cell transplant day. Very anti climatic. They gave me pre-meds, which knocked me out, and then over the course of an hour, I got 7 million of my own stem cells back into my body. This is it folks, I have no more stem cells on ice. This is my last stem cell transplant and this one has been so awful, I'm not sure I can handle another one again anyway. After this, onto new lines of therapy, which are so much more promising if you ask me-- immunotherapy, Car T Cell therapy, all the new drugs....

After I was released from stem cells, my mom and I drove to the Residence Inn, checked in and unpacked. I went to Bucca di Beppo, which is across the street and ordered pasta and pizza. With my appetite changing it's all that sounded good. My dad came. I took a nap. What the heck, I am NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FEELING THIS AWFUL SO FAST!!!!

Here were are a few days later. My husband dropped off all our Christmas gifts and I decorated. He also dropped off my daughters, who are our of school for the holiday break. I am not alone. I am surrounded by my amazing, supportive, loving family. I wish I felt better. Yesterday, they went to the symphony, then went out to lunch. I slept on the couch and then watched the University of Utah-BYU football game (it was an ugly win but at least my Utes won). I felt nausea all the time. I layer up my an nausea meds, which make me tired. I feel worse when I'm walking. I feel hot, clammy and prickly. I know I will pass out if I stand too long. I never know if I feel better with food in my stomach or nothing. I am experimenting. I mostly crave pasta, noodles, sourdough bread with butter. Perrier. Water. I am low on potassium. Instead of taking those awful horse pills, I am attempting to eat my way out of the hole-- bananas, avocado, tomatoes, pasta sauce, potatoes...

They tell me that my worse days are ahead of me. Those are coming tomorrow (Mon), Tues and Weds, and then I should start turning a corner and feeling better, engrafting. And I should be able to go home on Dec 26.

My treatment schedule has robbed me of my birthday (I was in the hospital), Thanksgiving (I was in the hospital), Christmas Eve and Christmas Day (we will be in this clean apartment). I hope and pray that I will be feeling well enough to revel in the excitement of gift opening. I purchased everything early, with great thought behind each gift.

Beyond that, I hope that this stem cell transplant process keeps me out of the hospital and that I survive it relatively intact. The next few days will say it all.

Wish me luck! And if you're the praying kind, please keep me in your prayers.

Hugs,

Lizzy

Merry Christmas! Our Holiday makeover (not by choice)

All I Want for Christmas Is... Love. Our Do-Over Holiday

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BY LIZZY SMITH for Divorced Moms

December 13, 2015

I absolutely love the holidays. But this year, it hasn't started out so great. Thanks to a horrible bout of pneumonia, I was robbed of our Thanksgiving entirely, forced to be away from my family because I was in the midst of a 15 day hospital stay while I tried to get well.

While my daughters and dad went to Chuck-a-rama for dinner because no one could cook for them, and my husband was in Seattle visiting his daughter, my mom and I were hanging out in my hospital room while I ate popcorn in bed. It was awful. I was heartbroken that instead of spending several days prior cooking and baking and getting the good dishes out on the table, I was eating horrid hospital food. Instead of shopping, I was getting horrible tests to determine my type of pneumonia.

This year won’t be a typical Christmas either. I will be some 45-minutes away in a “clean” apartment awaiting my recovery from a stem cell transplant. Because I knew I would be away from home for Christmas, I had to make some BIG decisions about what the holidays meant to me, my children and family so that I could craft how to make this season work for us.

We have family traditions that run deep: big meals, lots of relatives eating together, opening gifts on Christmas eve, watching the news for Santa sightings so the girls could get in bed before his annual visit, waking up the next morning to open mountains of gifts and join more family members for food and games. It really is special, joyous and fun. And over their break from school, we were planning on baking endless amounts of cookies, going to lots of holiday parties, shopping and wrapping gifts. I bought then season ski passes and I was going to put them in ski school and arrange ski dates with friends on the slopes.

But, scratch all of that. Since I am required to move into my clean apartment in just days, my daughters and decided together that, expense aside, I would rent a two bedroom/two bath room at Marriott’s Residence Inn. It comes with a full kitchen, living room and fireplace. That meant there was room for them and my parents (my caregivers through my transplant) to join me. And while we cried crocodile tears, we purchased a tiny tree and gifts for those we love. We wrapped them and put them in a big pile to take up to my apartment.

Keep reading...

Is this it? Am I getting ready to flatline? My scary myeloma experience

I am heading into stem cell transplant next week to treat multiple myeloma. On Tuesday, I got for my high-dose melphalin where I will need to chomp on ice non-stop for about 20 minutes. The following day, I will be moving into a two-bedroom Marriott Residence Inn for some two weeks and also getting 20 million of my own stem cells injected back into my body. Fun times! I rented the apartment so that my family and I can spend Christmas Eve and Christmas together. I purchased a tiny Christmas tree and I am taking up all the gifts and decorating. This is not an ideal situation but at least we will all be together.

So leading up to transplant, last week I was scheduled to get platelets (I am always low on platelets since starting wicked D-PACE chemo in the hospital in early November), Zometa to strengthen my bones, and IVIG that strengthens my immune system. IVIG takes forever, followed by the two other treatments, all via IV, that when I showed up for my treatment, we decided to give me two of these meds at the same time -- IVIG and Zometa. I have a double port, which means that I can receive two meds going into two different veins simultaneously.

So we started the meds and all was fine. I was writing my Divorced Moms column and then, all of a sudden, I wasn't feeling that great. I pushed the feeling aside, attempted some deep yoga breathing and tried to center myself. That went nowhere and I immediately started feeling worse. Racing heart, sweating, feeling sick... I pushed the button to call for my nurse.

"I don't feel well," I said. "I'm going to throw up." She gave me a pan and I threw up. And I felt worse. I can't even describe it but it was out-of-body scary. I closed my eyes.

Before I knew it, I could hear the nurse calling for backup. I opened my eyes and the room was filled with people. My blood pressure was dropping and my heart wasn't consistent. I felt horrid. And then I heard the voice of my husband. William had arrived and he put is hand on my shoulder. "I'm here," he said. I nodded and started crying. I was sure I was going to flatline. So this is how it ends, I thought in the nether regions of my brain. But my husband was there.

They wheeled me down to the ER. They gave me fluids and meds and I don't know what else. I still didn't feel ok. I shook and nodded my head and sort of heard people speaking but could process nothing. My life is ending slowly... ebbing. My heart will stop and my spirit will exit my body and, just like I've heard others describe their near death experiences, I will look at all those people looking onto my lifeless body...

And then, just like that, I was feeling ok. I opened my eyes. And ten minutes later, I said I wanted to sit up and I was hungry. And I ordered room service and ate shrimp salad and soup and carrot cake.

It was so horrid and weird and awful. They said that I had a reaction to the injection, not the meds. We gave me the platelets, I finished up the Zometa, and I declined the rest of the IVIG. I was afraid of it.

And there you have it.

Yesterday I had a bone marrow biopsy. Instead of being a brave warrior and having it done without any meds, I insisted on sedatives. I was given IV fentenol. I was floating. I felt nothing. A little pressure but that was it. But I paid for it, yes I did-- I spent the rest of the day feeling tired and hung over. I threw up five times. I slept. I felt "not ok." And then I did. We went and got pizza and watched a movie and my day improved.

The joys of a myeloma journey. And they are about to get a lot bigger and grander next week. I need to remind myself that as awful as I feel, after a few weeks I recover, I feel better, I begin living again. And I reward myself handsomely. This will be no exception. We will go somewhere beyond fabulous for Spring Break of summer vacation, at least that that is my plan. Somewhere like Rio or the Seychelle Islands or Fiji... Thinking about it and making out our short list keeps me going, keeps me hopeful and looking forward beyond icky transplant.

Peace and joy,

Lizzy

Cheater Cheater. When Is It Ok To Start Dating Again Post Split?

My latest via Divorced Moms. A touchy, but oh so important, topic. And one I feel passionately about.

Are You Cheating By Dating Before Your Divorce Is Final?
by Lizzy Smith (for Divorced Moms)                    

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December 05, 2015

Several weeks ago, I got an email from a reader asking if I thought that dating before your divorce was final was considered cheating. This, honestly, is a complicated question. Sure, the marriage is over, the two of you have officially split, the divorce petition is filed… So, is it ok to jump into dating? And, if you do, while likely hurtful to your soon-to-be ex, is it considered cheating?

I’m going to say that, yes, it is cheating. And if it isn’t cheating, it definitely is wrong. And the reasons are many. I speak with experience. As I’ve written a million times, I despised my now ex-husband while we were married. I never loved him. He was a volatile, mean and abusive alcoholic. He was evil and frightening at times. When I finally left him in the wake of my cancer diagnosis, I was so over it (and him). Yet… when we left, there were two very confused and hurt children. I was sick (extremely sick, like life-threatening sick). We were confused and scared… There were so many unresolved issues between my ex and me, like filing for divorce, all of my belongings were still in our shared home, we had many assets to divide, even dogs that needed to be split. Life was so “up in the air.” While the girls and I were trying to settle and make sense of a life that none of us chose or foresaw coming, and I was getting chemo and losing my hair and dropping weight at an alarming rate, my husband was on dating sites within days of our departure. Within several weeks, he had a new girlfriend, the one he is with some four years later. It was devastating to me to think that while we were in such turmoil, he was having new sex with a woman he just met and enjoying the start of a new relationship. And, truly, what was this very emotionally sick man doing dating instead of healing, dealing with his severe alcoholism, and concentrating on confused and bewildered children.

As he dated so quickly, what was he teaching his two older children about family and marriage? That is mean absolutely nothing at all. It was all just so… so WRONG.

And for the new woman in his life, I had to wonder what kind of idiot dated a man under these circumstances. And why she chose to hop into the middle of someone else’s marriage and complex divorce. As a survivor herself of a divorce, she knew how horrible the entire process could be. While my ex and I had split, for her, dating a guy under such horrible circumstances meant she was dating a major asshole with huge unresolved emotional issues. Why would any woman do something so stupid on purpose? I had to think she was as emotionally sick as he was. And she had now inherited a deeply sick, disturbing man. Have fun! (And guess what, he hasn't change a bit. A friend of mine who lives in Rob the Great Alcoholic's  neighborhood sees him pounding drinks at bars all over town.)

And for me… it made me dig my heels into the proverbial sand when it came to our divorce even that much harder. If he wanted to enjoy having fun while I was so sick and the kids were so hurt, I was even less willing to have conversations with him that would make the divorce easier on him. I knew what I was owed (a lot, considering I loaned him a ton of money to pay off his former wife) and I was hell-bent on making sure I got exactly what I was entitled to.

So, based on my experience (and the experiences of others I know), here is why, if you ask me, you should refrain yourself from dating until after your divorce is final (even if your husband is jumping back in already):

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Cancer Healing & Hospital Food (WTH?)

So this myeloma warrior spent 15 days in the hospital recently battling pneumonia. One of the most horrible parts of being in the hospital was the food. No joke, it was making my physically ill.

First, I was put on a neutoropenic diet, which means no fresh fruits and veggies unless they come in a heavy peal (like bananas and melons) or are cooked up. That alone drives me a little crazy because I absolutely love fresh produce. Like I probably eat an average of eight servings per day. The thought behind this rule is that if I get any kind of food-born illness, I have no immune system (like ZERO) to fight it.

Second, Huntsman gives you a room service menu that we patients can order off of any time we want from 6AM to 9PM. So when I first got into the hospital, no problem. I was ordering salmon, onion rings, steamed broccoli, green apples, soup... I was making as healthy choices as possible but the food was really disgusting. It was cold, under cooked or over cooked, inconsistent... Like once I ordered a tuna sandwich on sourdough. They brought me half a sandwich with almost no tuna. It was like two slices of bread with a small amount of spread. No pickles... nothing. The next day, I order the same thing. This time it's a full sandwich loaded with tuna and two pickles. The pizza dough was nearly raw. The steak un-chewable...

And then by day four I would eat breakfast and throw up. Lunch... throw it all up. For two days, I had zero calories because I could keep nothing down. Honestly, the food was horrid and just looking at the menu made me queasy. The nutritionist came to speak with me.

"I cannot eat this food," I told her. "It is too salty, raw, over cooked, overly processed. Even the soup comes straight out of a can. It is making me sick."

"Well," she said, "Here are our most popular items: milkshakes (we can add a banana), sole, enchiladas..." Instead of trying to find better and healthier ways for me to eat, it was what was most popular.

My doctor told me that to get discharged I must eat, not continue losing weight. So I started ordering milkshakes. The sole was horrid. The medical team ordered me meds to help me keep this disgusting, awful, unhealthy food down. It worked. Despite feeling awful just looking at the menu, I ate. And I stopped dropping weight. And I got discharged. Unsurprisingly, the minute I got home and started eating "real" food, I didn't need meds to keep poisonous food down. I just ate and started healing.

I have NO idea how cancer hospitals (or any hospital) can feel its patients like this. Foods that stress out our immune systems and help keep us sick. And then when our bodies revolt (like mine did), the response is to give us meds to hep us keep that disturbing food in our guts, making us weaker and sicker. This food does NOT aid us in healing.

One day when I was still in the hospital, I made this case to my doctor. "You must release me. I cannot heal anymore here. The food is making me sicker. It is stressing my immune system and is preventing me from healing. I don't eat like this at home. I need proper nutrition. I need proper rest. This is critical to my health."

I came home and reveled in cooked spinach and garlic with fresh lemon juice, salmon with minimal sodium. Cantaloupe. Quinoa. Grilled apples and oranges with cinnamon. Imagine this-- in the hospital I was continually low in potassium and needing massive potassium supplements. Of course I was! My diet in that hospital was vitamin and mineral deficient. I got home and after eating fresh grilled tomatoes, lots of avocados, bananas and potatoes, my potassium levels became normal.

Shame on hospitals! We sick people NEED and DESERVE far better than highly processed, sodium heavy, and highly unhealthy food. We deserve foods that support healing and health, not help poison us. I call for a complete overhaul. Shameful!

As I head into my stem cell transplant, we originally were going to do it in-patient in the hospital. But after 15 days of eating that food, I just can't. We are attempting this out-patient. One of the main reasons? I can't fathom eating that horrid, awful, unhealthy, poisonous food for two more weeks. I need food that will help me weather this procedure as well as possible. And staying away from hospital food is one way I hope to do this.

My Very Cute Christmas Purchase by Sterling Pear

Every once in a while I find a great purchase and have to share with my readers.

First, I have a cat named Princess. She is a rescue and we adopted her just prior to flying to Russia to adopt my youngest daughter (she was almost three years old when we brought her home from an orphanage in Yekaterinburg, Russia). I purchased the cat for my older daughter as a sort of "you're no longer going to be an only child" celebratory gift. We went to the Pet Adoption League in Carlsbad, California and there was this fluffy black cat who was friendly and we fell in love.

Princess is not only friendly, she loves people and isn't afraid of humans. She loves to sit in laps and snuggle up at night. She is such an important part of our family that splurging on a gift just for her was a no-brainer.

Here's Princess...

Here's are the two items: a stocking which I will stuff with treats and toys and, behind her, a pillow that I can add a photo of Princess that says she'll promise to be better next year.

Here's a better photo of the pillow. From Sterling Pear on Amazon retails at $14.99 and available for Prime customers, too.  As you can see, it's a deep red and of satiny-type material. Quite a conversation piece. It's on our couch and Princess loves to snuggle up with it (hey, true to form, it's "new" and she is claiming it as "hers."

And the stocking, also available on Amazon by Sterling Pear, which retails at $14.99:

Both of these make great pet gifts or even hostess gifts.

I love the Holidays and I love finding unique items. These definitely fit the bill.

Still in the hospital. Day 11 & counting... And one of my fav articles from Divorced Moms (Learning to ask for help)

The Bad News

I'm still in the hospital. Today is Day 11. Also, no discharge date, though I'm told "not tomorrow" but in a few days it is possible. Happy Thanksgiving! I've spend most of November in the hospital so far.

The Good News

We finally discovered that I DO have pneumonia. I had that test where they stick the camera down your throat. I felt nothing. They switch my antibiotics so they are very targeted.

We did the dreaded and painful bone marrow biopsy last Friday. I insisted on local sedation. Oh my it was the best margarita I've ever had. I felt "almost nothing" and that floating restful feeling made the "almost nothing" worth it. Results came back. No myeloma in the biopsy. But there is nothing in my bone marrow. So recovery on my own is becoming impossible, But no myeloma -  WHOOOOOOOHOOOOOO. And they did my markers last week (I didn't even know and I'm glad I didn't because I would have been terrified). The show almost no M-spike. from 3.5 to .01. A fabulous response. 

And my daughters came to visit! We ate together and hung out. I have missed them stupid amounts. 

So...

Today we "infused" (not transplanted) 3 million of my own cells into me and this WILL work! Now we wait for them to reproduce. Please, Lord, let that be soon. I deserve a break, right??? If you're a reader and they praying type, please pray for me.

Divorced Moms - one of my favorite columns to date

We Can't Go It Alone. It's Ok to Ask for (and Accept) Help
by Lizzy Smilez for Divorced Moms

In my prior life (pre-myeloma diagnosis, pre-divorce, and living in San Diego) and was nearly obsessed with portraying my life as fabulous. Great husband (wrong—he was a seriously mean abusive drunk), great job (wrong, I worked way too many hours in a job I hated), beautiful home… And, therefore, in my deepest moments of fear and need, I never for a second thought of asking for …. Help. How could I? I was drowning emotionally and, as organized as I was, I could never make life work quite right.

…And then it all changed in a second. I was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, a blood cancer, and the house of cards came crashing down. To an extent. For the first time, I no longer pretended to have a perfect family and home. Rob the Great (Alcoholic’s) fishing buddy stopped by the house to check on me and he knew Rob had moved out. “Buddy” was devastated that we were splitting.

“Is there anything that can be done to save your marriage?” he asked. He was literally in tears.

“No. He is an alcoholic. He is mean, abusive and explosive. He is a liar and a sneak and I’m done defending him or helping him preserve his Rob the Great brand. He is not great. He was a monster. He is not a good man."

There. I was starting to be honest—my life was a disaster.

I allowed my parents to drive to San Diego, help me pack up the kids and some clothes and move us and our cat, Princess, into their home in Utah so I could begin treatment. And I accepted their endless help with taking me to appointments, taking care of my children, and everything in between.

But I didn’t want anyone else to know about my health. I told everyone I had a blood disorder and I was going to be JUST FINE. I lost my hair. No one knew because I had great wigs, which actually made me look better than before. I lost weight—a lot of it, like from 138 pounds at diagnosis to 119. I was finally skinny! (actually too thin) I went to great lengths to (again) portray “better than reality.”

Why was that?

Fear that someone might think something negative of me? Fear that people would feel pity? Terrified that in my sick state, that some well-meaning person might say something really tacky and it would rattle my resolve to not die? My need for privacy?

Keep reading...

...And I'm back in the hospital. Thanks myeloma!

Friday was the most relaxing day I had had in a very long time. William took the girls to school in the morning and was gone the rest of the day. I really took it easy. I made breakfast, took a short nap, took a bath, took another nap awakened when my parents came over. I went for a short drive with them, we stopped at a local restaurant and I got some soup and then I had them take me home. I crawled into bed and slept for three hours. Then I realized that no one would be home for another hour so I slept another hour. I got up, did some laundry, my parents brought my children home from school and as we all sat in the living room, I thought... uh oh. I think I have a fever. We pulled out the thermometer and, dear heavens, it was 102. I did not feel like I had a temperature of 102. I felt quite rested, warm and peaceful. But "not feeling feverish" doesn't count-- numbers do. I called my doctor's office and I was told to get my ass to the hospital now.

Panic. My nose started bleeding. Oh my gosh what if I bleed out? I couldn't even find my big UGG boots so ended up with my second choice-- UGG slippers. I walked out into my living room. "I'm so sorry, girls, but Mom has a fever and I need to go to the hospital."

They were rock stars. Morgan is happy to kidsit her sister so she can earn money. "I'll fix us dinner," she said when I suggested she order them a pizza for dinner. "Please go get well. Hurry!" she said. We all gave each other hugs and my parents and I left, in rush hour, heading to Salt Lake City. Horrific traffic.

My next phone call was to William. "So we are on our way to the hospital," I told him. He was already in Salt Lake City. "Ok, I'll meet you there." And he did. He was in the lobby when we arrived. When I told the staff on the 4th floor who I was they immediately whisked me away to my quarantined room. My Physicians Assistant, Amanda (who I love), arrived minutes later.

"Amanda, I don't even feel feverish," I said.

"I know but you are admitted. I promise not to keep you hear longer than is totally necessary," she said.

And in my gut, as much as I HATED my last hospital stay, I knew that this is exactly where I needed to be. I had been struggling with a horrible cough for WEEKS. And with no immune system at all, I couldn't get better. The chemo kept that cough happily moving along. I knew that here, I could maybe start getting well. I was relieved, actually, to be in the hospital where I could sleep and have no responsibilities at all. I mean, this time, I didn't even bring a toothbrush.

So they took all kinds of tests and samples and cultures, started me on high dose antibiotics and platelets and I slept. Well, at least I slept through countless wake ups for vitals. I've now been here for four days and, unless I spike a fever tonight, I go home tomorrow. This is the same amount of time I was here two weeks ago. This time, I am not going home with horrible PTSD. I needed to be here. I have had massive amounts of antibiotics, three rounds of platelets, and two bags of blood. My cough is still here. It seems to be abating although I still have zero white cells. I am scheduled to start getting back my immunity in the next five days or so. So I will be extremely cautious when I get home-- I will stay away from crowds, I will mostly stay home, I will be very careful with what I eat, I will wash my hands often and pray like crazy. I will also need to come to Huntsman every day for labs. It is what it is.

A couple take-aways:

1. The food here has been horrific. So bad that, in fact, I threw up dinner last night. I can't order off the menu anymore. Everything has been cold and overly salted. I don't eat that much sodium during every meal. Usually I like the food here. I don't anymore. I don't know what happened but it was not good in the kitchen. I've whittled down my diet to yogurt and crackers that they keep up on the floor,

2. I received communion on Sunday that was lovely. The chaplain, a woman maybe 10 years my junior, conducted it. I felt so at peace and full of love. My faith in God is strong and my love of Jesus profound. I didn't ask for it, they offered it out of the blue. It was truly heaven-sent.

3. My mom stayed with me last night. I told her it was totally unnecessary but, it turns out, it was. It was so nice just hangin' with my mom, chatting, watching movies, and napping. She is the best mom ever.

4. My dad is my hero. Despite being in a lot of back pain, he has driven my mom to visit me, went to Ann Taylor today to pick up an outfit I liked online and wanted to wear out of the hospital, and has shuttled my children all over Utah County since I've been in the hospital. There is no greater dad on the planet.

5. My husband is the love of my life. I will cry as I type this but he is a "guy's guy" but, at the same time, incredibly nurturing. More nurturing than I am. He has taken care of the kids while I've been gone, visited me while they are in school, purchased the most expensive thermometer on the market because he never wants me not to have accurate readings again, rubbed my feet, and surprised me with all kinds of food today so I won't have to eat off the menu. He is kind, thoughtful, and loving. It isn't fun to be a care-giver. We are newlyweds. Yet he is absolutely amazing.

... So while all this cancer stuff really sucks, it also has reminded me how blessed I am to have such amazingly kind people around me. Like my friend Katherine who is picking up my daughter every day from school this week. Or my friend Irene who brought over homemade Mexican flan. Or the countless messages I've received from people I have never met in person to wish me well and to check in on me. I am literally blown away by the love I feel from so many.

So I'll leave you with that.

Blessings and peace,

Lizzy

Staying Sane (Barely) During Myeloma Stem Cell Transplant Hospital Stay. PTSD? I Believe it is REAL

I'm not one to complain a lot. I've taken myeloma in stride and taken the KICK ASS approach. But I am complaining BIG TIME because I FEEL LIKE IT. Because the mental fatigue of a hospital stay just about pushed me over the edge of sanity. And we don't talk about it enough (or ever). So I rant, rave, and probably share too much. But let the dialog begin. Hey Myeloma Oncologists: Our heroes, we love you, but seriously, you need to read and listen to this one. I wrote this for the Myeloma Crowd.

Here it is in its entirety. Let's spread the word far and wide, please!

Lizzy


SCT Postcard From the Edge: Surviving My 5-Day Hospital Stay For Myeloma       

By Lizzy on November 9, 2015 Life With Myeloma

BY LIZZY SMITH

Is there anything more emotionally or physically taxing than a stem cell transplant (SCT)? I know there are many of us myeloma warriors out there who must answer “no.” SCTs are intense and hard, emotionally and physically. And I knew this because I did tandem transplants in 2012. Honestly, I was so sick and overwhelmed with my diagnosis, life, treatment and how awful I was feeling to remember big chunks of it. Like, literally, there are months I hardly remember anything at all. My mom, dad or children will mention something and I look at them blankly. Really? That happened? Are you sure? And since healing from those SCTs, I’ve embraced life in Big Huge Ways. I made a real decision to do so, and I think I live my values almost every day.

Which means that when my doctors mentioned another SCT, I immediately declined. How about never? Clinical trials. Let’s try this drug and that drug. And had one of the worked, had we been more “on top” of things, would this have been necessary? Ah, the million dollar question. But I must make decisions on the here and now, not the “what ifs.” So I heeded their advice and I agreed to start round one of D-PACE. I already have plenty of cells harvested so at least I can skip that part. But my insurance company required that I be hospitalized for induction therapy. Huh? Last time I did this, it was all outpatient. I carried that four-day “chemo in a bag” in a very cute bag that I splurged on and off I went– shopping at Costco, going to movies, dropping my children off at school. Did I feel really horrible during D-PACE? Now that I look back on it, I think I did. I have slight memories of walking around Target feeling like I was floating when, in fact, my feet were very much on the ground. And I remember that everything smelled of this sweet chemo-smelling “thing” and the smell of my own skin made me want to gag. I took lots of baths and lotions and, still, I could not get rid of that “smell.”

So, regardless of any of that, I agreed to check into the hospital for five days to start induction. I went in optimistic and happy. I went skydiving the day prior, I packed up cute clothes. And I checked in. And after five-days, I have to be honest, for the first time in my entire life, I think I ended up with a good case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from sitting confined in a hospital when I didn’t feel all that bad. The mental and emotional fatigue is something that, at least to my memory, I have never felt before. Sheer panic. Like “I’m going to be sick, or my heart is going to pop out of my skin, or I need to get UNHOOKED from this blinking bulky IV cart RIGHT THIS SECOND.”

I didn’t have a total panic attack in the hospital, but I almost did. On Friday night very late, they unhooked me of everything and I just needed to wait for morning to arrive so my dad could spring me from the hospital. Now I have to be fair– if you’re going to be stuck in a cancer hospital, Huntsman Cancer Hospital in Salt Lake City kind of rocks. It is beautiful. There are spectacular views. The room service menu is extensive and good. And the nurses are amazing. But it’s still a confined space. When I finally got home, I was the only person there for about an hour. I had total silence in my home. Home. I was HOME. It was quiet, clean, bright, refreshing and peaceful. And then that night as I went to bed, I had full on panic. I woke up several times throughout the night in a cold sweat, or a hot sweat, thinking I was back in a hospital room. The blue digits on the alarm clock were the same color as the colors in my hospital room. Get me out of here, I wanted to scream. I thought I’d be sick. I talked myself to calmness. Yoga breathing. Prayer. It was ok. I was safe.

It’s been a few days now. Here are new observations or take-away’s up to this point:

1. If you go into the hospital, I highly recommend you ditch their awful tiny little inadequate blankets that sometimes felt they were going to choke me. Bring a nice fluffy blanket or comforter that you love.
2. Bring something that smells not too sweet. The indescribable “sweet smell” of chemo was almost more than I could take at times. Thank goodness for peppermint oil that I could run under my nose for a respite.
3. I checked into the hospital weighing in at 137 pounds. Within 48-hours, I had gained 10-pounds. Impossible. It was water weight and I felt like I was carrying around three whole watermelons in my tummy. And I looked like I had triplets in there, too. The good news is that it took me two days of getting unhooked from the chemo and fluids and IVs to lose 13 pounds. I spent a lot of time in the bathroom draining and it felt fantastic.
4. I cannot believe how scary I’m eating these days. Like I really try to eat super healthy and organic, with almost no meat and loads of fish. I gave up completely. These days, I have absolutely no control but I plan on giving myself until Friday before I force my diet to come to its senses. At this point, I’m surviving Hell, I get to do whatever I want. And what I crave most is (I can’t believe I’m even typing this), Fritos and dip. Seriously, I never eat chips, ever, and never Fritos. And on Day 1 of my return home from the hospital, I ate an entire bag and I didn’t even feel disgusting when I was done.
5. I hate coffee at the moment. I bought some the other day and literally found myself in the bathroom throwing it up. But I have discovered a tea that I am obsessed with at Beans & Brew. Today, I felt pretty crappy. I dropped my children off at school, got my tea, came home and sat in a chair and watched The Price Is Right while sipping tea. It was quiet and peaceful. And I slept. I have a very hard time allowing myself time to recover and nap. This time, I am TAKING IT ALL, no excuses.
6. I am far weaker than I remember from the first time I did this. When I got home, I needed help propping myself off the toilet (sorry, TMI). I had to grab for life the counter. How did I have not enough stamina for even that, I wondered. I am utterly baffled by this one. On day 1 back from the hospital, I went downstairs to put some clothes away and coming back up those stairs felt like I had huge heavy weights on my feet. I felt so… off kilter. Heavy.
7. I really need to be careful at night. I woke up in the middle of the night and I literally could not walk straight. I almost fell twice. I am so klutzy. I need to be ultra careful.
8. Some smells still make me want to cry. My mother, bless her heart, did all the laundry for my children while I was in the hospital. I opened up the bag she sent over and the sweet smell of laundry that I usually love almost sent me over the edge.
9. Mornings are hard! Now this one I remember from my first round of SCTs on diagnosis. Mornings are super tough on me. It takes me hours to feel “right.” I am doing a big work-around on this. I take baths at night instead, I lay out my meds the night before for morning so I don’t need to use my brain so much, and I allow myself time to get up for a few minutes, sit down, get up, sit down again. It is a long process and I just have to take it a step at a time. It is such a relief when I have my children dropped off at school and I can just be done.
10. And the PTSD seems to be waning a bit. I expect tomorrow to be a bit better, and the next day better than that. And when all this sordidness is done, I am celebrating BIG with a fabulous trip. I don’t know where that will be yet but I’m endlessly looking at pictures and dreaming. Planning. Because I deserve a Very Big Huge Treat.

And to my fellow myeloma warriors, may we continue working on finding those advancements, new treatments, and a cure. They are to be found in clinical trials, very exciting trials that are opened right now and they are awaiting us. Because some day, we just have to put SCT and chemo to rest for good.

On Sunday, I took my daughters to the movies. It was a near empty theater, I kept my fingers out of my mouth, and I used loads of hand sanitizer. It felt good to sit, do something normal, spend time with the girls, and be reminded that life is still out there, away from needles and meds and labs and doctors appointments. Those mental moments are so critically important to us. Embrace them as often as you can.

Peace and love,

Lizzy

From Divorced Moms, if you can all handle a bit more of my story of hospital stays, inspiring, and finding inspiration, even from a hospital....

Severe Anxiety, PTSD, And Finding Peace Amid The Storm

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November 08, 2015

BY LIZZY SMITH

There really is nothing funny about Big Life Challenges: divorce, cheating, illness, depression. The more I talk to people whose lives seem perfect and happy, healthy and successful, the more I realize that it is often a ruse. There are so many people in deep pain and emotional distress that it tears my heart out. How could seemingly perfect people not have perfect lives?

Case in point: I just got out of the hospital yesterday morning where I spent five "glorious" days hooked to a 24-hour chemo bag. I have multiple myeloma, a blood cancer, and I had three great years of remission. I relapsed last year and it is time for some major treatments to get my numbers back in check. They will be, no doubt, but these treatments are time consuming and they really disrupt your life. Little things-- like I was planning on doing a product review wearing really fun costume jewelry and getting dressed up and taking pictures. Nope! To the hospital for you instead. 

So during my hospital stint, I developed chemo cough. To be cautious, we scheduled a chest Xray to ensure that i wasn't developing anything more serious, like a lung infection. When I arrived at Xray, the tech, bless her heart, said, "Wow, you do not look like a chemo patient. You are beautiful and radiant." Her words perked me up. We never know what small word of encouragement at just the right time can have enormous impact on someone.

Keep reading...

I'm home from the hospital!

I think I have PTSD. I was discharged yesterday morning from Huntsman Cancer Institute after five days for induction therapy for stem cell transplant. Please, Lord, don't let me need another round of this! My stem cells were harvested four years ago so at least I don't have to go through that. But my insurance company required that I spend these first days of induction D-PACE therapy days in-patient. It was far worse than expected, I have to say. Physically, I was fine. Emotionally? Not so much. By Day 3 I was going absolutely stir crazy. The smells of chemo and hospitals were more than I could take. Those tiny hospital blankets... All of it. Just writing about it is making me want to push back a gag reflex.

So while my nurses and doctors are great (and they really are), and the food actually quite good, nothing could stave off the feel of total isolation and mental fatigue that started setting in. By my last night there when they finally unhooked me of those horrible, awful IV carts, I was on the verge of a mental breakdown. I woke up early, took a shower, packed up, and waited for my dad to spring me. When we stepped outside into the natural sunlight, I almost started crying. The feeling of sheer joy and relief was overpowering.

I got home, unpacked, and my children and husband came home. Home! My family! I did it! We went grocery shopping. We cooked dinner. We watched football games.

And then last night, I woke up at least three times thinking I was back in the hospital. Total panic set in. Cold sweat. Hot sweat. I think I wanted to be sick.

Today is a new day. I am assimilating into having freedom. If I need more days in the hospital, I'm going to need serious therapy. I seriously don't know how those of you who enter a hospital for a month or more to do a transplant do it. My hats off to you. It is grueling and awful, cruel and un-fun. But what is our option? We take it one day at a time, this myeloma journey, don't we?

Blessings, my fellow warriors,

Lizzy

For Divorced Moms: How To Celebrate Bad News? Go Skydiving, Of Course

Can we handle another skydiving story? This one is for my audience at Divorced Moms.

How To Celebrate Really Awful News? Go Skydiving

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by Lizzy Smith for Divorced Moms

November 04, 2015

I am a cancer survivor (multiple myeloma, a blood cancer). I was diagnosed in January 2012 and, as part of my treatment, had two auto stem cell transplants. These are not fun or simple procedures, I assure you. They involve too much chemo, hair loss, and, well, you get the picture. I got into remission for three years but it came back. Managed by a plethora of drugs over the past year, my doctors have determined that it is time for another stem cell transplant to bring my numbers back down. I'm ok with it. I'm doing well, I'm confident and know that I will beat this again. Myeloma is manageable, thank goodness, but it's a long road of treatments and more.

I decided long ago that my approach to life is survivorship, warrior-status all the way. When I was first diagnosed with myeloma, I had a decision to make: 1) let this devastating news defeat me by staying with my abusive husband, allow myself to continue being bullied by him, and expose my children to a really unhealthy home environment surrounded by alcoholism; 2) beat it, kick, it, survive it, and craft a new life. I chose to do something Big, Bold and NEW. To find, purpose, love, passion, and joy. And I've worked really hard in doing just that. Since my initial diagnosis, I've done some really cool stuff: I got a divorce, found new love, remarried, helped launch www.myelomacrowd.org (a fabulous site for myeloma survivors and we are working on funding curative clinical trials), traveled to Europe twice, South America once, gone on a few cruises and road trips and so much more. Life is better, cancer aside, than it ever was before.

So I live as big as I possibly can. In addition to my entering into another transplant, my 48th birthday is coming up on Friday. Last year, I went paragliding to celebrate. This year, it was time to take it up a notch. In addition to wanting to do something GRAND as I headed into "u-fun" treatment, I wanted to celebrate another year of life on this planet. It was time to cross something off of my Bucket List. I chose to go skydiving.

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Day #2: My Auto Stem Cell Transplant for

Yesterday I completed Day 1 of my stem cell transplant. 

Here's what I packed:

-Panties and bras for each day, withe a few extras just in case

-One pair of fuzzy socks per day of stay so I get fresh clean ones each morning to wear

-One pair of either yoga pants or leggings for each day of stay (a little fashionable, very comfy)

-One light top for each day because if I get cold (and I do), I just as for another blanket

-Dental floss (ok, I forgot this but asked William to bring up some for me today, which he did)

-Cotton balls (forgot these, too, but my mom brought them up this morning)

-Toothbrush and toothpaste

-Razor

-Yummy soap, lotions, and shampoos (I still have hair, after all)

-My laptop

-Book

-Magazine

-Cell phone and chargers

Here's what I've been doing to stay busy:

-My mom, dad, brother and William came up for a visit. We met up with another myeloma survivor and friend, Steve, who just finished his third transplant a few months ago. We got lunch and chatted. It was nice. And I ate, boy did I eat, even a Big Huge Cookie with chocolate chips, nuts and coconuts. If I have to sit in this hospital, I get to eat whatever I want, is my take. Good idea? Probably not. All goes as planned, I am being sprung from this place on my BIRTHDAY.

-I slept almost not a wink last night because the stupid buzzer from my chemo bag kept going off like every 45 minutes. If a hammer or rock were nearby, I would have destroyed this thing, one happy whack at a time. Bang bang bang into silence. That did not happen. Instead, it almost sent me into needing therapy, but not for cancer

-I am writing articles

-I am going to take a nap at some point

-I might watch a movie.

-I definitely have an article I want to read up on in my Vanity Fair.

And here's how I'm feeling:

-Great. Go figure. Someone undergoing SCT should look and feel sick, right? Please, Lord, not me. Not yet anyway. 

As Steve and I were waiting for the elevator, strapped to our IV carts, a nurse said, "I love seeing cancer patients looking like you two!" With a caveat! Steve is in maintenance therapy and I'm just beginning down this joyous road, so let's see, let's see. Prayers, cross fingers, kick this thing in the ass then go on a trip?

I look outside my private room in this hospital. It is overcast and windy. I feel cozy. I am blessed. I feel loved and supported and, at least for now, my appetite is raging and I am comfy. And I will win this battle, one tiny step at a time. Setbacks? Who knows, but it will get better.

Here's what I did on the day prior to my stem cell transplant for myeloma (make that SCT #3)

So tomorrow, I am starting my stem cell transplant. That means I am entering the hospital tomorrow for five glorious days while I receipt D-PACE-- high chemo. I get to come home on my birthday on Friday if all goes well. You know what is really twisted? Now that the decision is made to go this route, I'm relieved and let's rock and roll. I want to go to the hospital and rest. I am exhausted and burned out and maybe I'll get some peace, rest and solace there. And I'll buy cute wigs and start from Square One and get a re-set and enter a clinical trial at NIH or U-Penn when this is all done that involves Car-T Cell therapy that may be curative and I am rambling but there you have it.

So now that the inevitable is marching forward, what is a girl getting ready to go into the hospital to do? I could sit in a corner and cry. Or I could do nothing and lament. Or, since I'm feeling quite good, I could cross something off my bucket list. Go into this who stem cell transplant thing with a BANG. I got permission from my doctor, and I went SKYDIVING today. I was fearless. I jumped out of the plane first and didn't break a sweat. I wasn't nervous for one tiny second. And it was exhilarating and fun and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. You want to check it out, click below. I highly recommend it.

https://youtu.be/mF8vbXfA0MA

And then I came home and packed up. Comfy cute clothes, a laptop, my trusty Vanity Fair magazine, and book Killing Jesus.

Wish me luck. Hard to tell I'm "that sick" from the video. But I have chosen to live without regret, fearlessly, with joy and happiness and full speed ahead.

Peace my friends, I will definitely keep you posted on the next leg of my Myeloma Journey.

Lizzy