Tough Twinkie

When the Threat is Vertical Details from Chemotherapy Infusion #3: An infomercial parody about standing up and spiraling into chaos. Starring Twinkie, her dog Juney, and her father Papa Mark as the Narrator. OPEN SCENE: [Insert: Thunderous heartbeat: KAW-KAHK-DOOM! ] *Fog rolls back to reveal TWINKIE. She is wearing mismatched socks and a slouchy cardigan. She rises slowly from the couch, swaying like she’s on a ship. TWINKIE   (softly singing): “99 bottles of agua on the wall… take one down…” *She takes three shaky steps toward the kitchen. [Enter: JUNEY bursting into frame and locking eyes with the camera. She lets out an ear-piercing yip.] *Camera snaps back to TWINKIE. She freezes mid-step. Her eyes widen and then spiral into animated vortexes . TWINKIE   (eerily calm): “E-I-E-I-O… oh no.” *She collapses in slow motion. THUNK . Juney fans her with a grease-stained pizza box. [Interject: Narrator voice.] PAPA MARK: “Stand & Spiral™—for those who crave the thrill of surv...

Inside Twinkie’s Chambers Welcome to my collection of horizontal surfaces, where chemotherapy and I deepen our twisted and one-sided relationship. No celebrity mansions here; just raw and unkempt zones I can barely clean thanks to body aches and pains. People ask, “How do you pass the time?” It’s easy — by passing out . So let’s get started before I do just that. Let’s begin with an unconventional spot: the floor. This spot chose me after the third chemotherapy infusion. Standing up became a panic attack. Racing heart? Check. Hot flashes like I’m melting in a sauna? Check. Vision like a blackout curtain? You betcha. So down to the floor I go and it’s flat-out comfortably uncomfortable. Who is the star of this horror film? That’d be Tough Twinkie, but spoiler alert: “Tough isn’t here anymore, Ms. Twinkie.” Since we’re on the horror vibe, let’s slide into the bathtub, half-submerged and half-functioning. I’ve mastered the “half-bath” because I’m too exhausted to sit up straight. My feet...

It Means “Shit Pants” Details from Chemotherapy Infusion #2: Channeling Grandma Elvera again. Lately, that stern, no-nonsense Finnish woman seems to rise up from within me. I catch her reflection in the mirror bundled in a robe and head wrapped tight. Her sharp, unforgettable phrases tumble out of my mouth, like the Finnish paskahousu , (PAH-SKA-HO-SOU) literally, "shit pants." It’s as if time folded in on itself, passing down her habits — equal parts sisu (grit) and grace. I feel her presence with me on this health journey, standing nearby with arms crossed and expression unreadable but her heart quietly full. Much like myself during a recent weekend away. My own arms were crossed protectively over my gut as I half-laughed at the very real threat of becoming a paskahousu on the streets of Denver. Not exactly the title I desired to earn. Still, I was out in the world and deeply grateful to be. Round two of chemotherapy delivered fewer side effects, although the couple that ...

What is Chemotherapy Servin’ Up? On the TV show Kitchen Nightmares , Chef Gordon Ramsay delivered a wake-up call to a restaurant owner who misunderstood “soup of the day.” Ramsay, with his face crinkled like an omelet and his voice booming like Oz, clarified it meant fresh soup made that day with available ingredients — certainly NOT reheated sludge from a week ago. Well, let me tell you, chemotherapy listened to Ramsay. Every day it serves up a special “symptom du jour” from whatever ingredients it collects in my nervous system. This menu changes daily and it is not a comforting bowl of chicken noodle soup. Here is what chemotherapy has served to me: Put Me on the Couch Pozole Bursting with a deeply spiced broth that zaps your soul — gripping your body with haunting discomfort, stinging your muscles with creeping tension, and clouding your mind with a haze of pessimism. Wait… was that supposed to be in the recipe? Bloody Bisque Enveloping the palate with a velvety richness so intense...

A Haiku for Nosebleeds Brave nasal jungle,  once a barricade to storms,  now bursts crimson tide. Ever since the first chemotherapy infusion, I have been locked in an unexpected battle with spontaneous nosebleeds. At first, I blamed the usual suspects — spring pollen, dry wind, the moody whims of the season. But no… that was far too convenient. The truth is stranger. It is more intimate. My nose hairs fell out. That’s right — just like the hair on my head, the brave little wires that once lined my nasal jungle have vanished. Now my nostrils are defenseless against the crimson tide. Yet I march forward with tissues at my side because I am a Tough Twinkie.

BE A TOUGH TWINKIE My mom recalls sitting in the kitchen as a youngster and her mother exclaiming, “Tough Twinkies!” A phrase that my grandmother, Elvera, created on the spot to end the complaining by my mom and her siblings about something they deemed unfair. When I heard the story from my mom it had me cackling! What a confusing yet funny response to the complainers. Since I always made up phrases and silly slogans, I adopted “Tough Twinkies”. However, my interpretation is slightly different. To me, “Tough Twinkies” sounds more like “GET TOUGH” or “BE TOUGH”. So it represents getting over the bullshit because life is unfair… it just is. The diagnosis of breast cancer was unfair. Going through the treatment sucks, it just does. Yet, I am a Tough Twinkie.

Chemotherapy Infusion #1 The first infusion was May 2nd, 2025. For 1 week the body aches, the headaches, and the muscle tension kept me hunkered down and sunk into the couch. I could barely stand up and instead of walking I hobbled around the apartment and between my place and my parents’ (depending on the next infusion, I might need a cane). For a handful of days I could hardly eat. The first obstacle was constipation. When that passed I experienced diarrhea immediately after I ate, so instead I drank broth, teas, and water. Then there were a couple of days that my mouth was inflamed and even drinking water hurt my teeth. So 1-week after the first chemotherapy infusion and FINALLY I could consume food and drink without side effects. It seemed like the wave of symptoms ended!  Oh how silly of me to be hopeful. My sinuses dried up and I experienced insane nose bleeds out of nowhere. I had to shoot up from the couch or the bed and race to the bathroom to toss my face into the sink. I...