The crash came on Friday afternoon.
I had gone to work, still with that nagging headache, but suddenly began to just feel "different". I went home shortly, and the headache started getting worse. I also started to feel like my body just wasn't it's own....like I was standing outside myself watching everything turn sour. Every piece of food I looked at was so unappealing. I didn't feel nauseous (or so I thought...in hindsight, I probably should have continued the anti-nausea drugs) but just knew I didn't want to put anything in my stomach. Things that just that morning tasted good, I suddenly just could not stomach even looking at for any length of time. The things I could put in my stomach gave me enormous heart-burn. I was beginning to burp like a truck driver every time something did go down (and I apologize to all truck drivers for that analogy). I thought to myself, "Well, she said this weekend I might crash." Little did I know the best was yet to come.
I don't think I can remember feeling as awful as I did all day Saturday. The tunnel I was in was very deep and I just couldn't make my way out. The headaches were still bad and I read that headaches could be caused by the anti-nausea meds, so I was afraid to take them, and afraid not to. I called the cancer center to ask for advice, but of course, it's Saturday, so they were taking messages for the docs for emergencies and such. I didn't feel it was an emergency (yeah...I was out of my mind), so I said I would wait until Monday. More and more I just felt like I couldn't move and I was a pile of mush. I called a friend who had been through chemo who remembered those headaches and feeling like I did and she did her best to "talk me down" from feeling like I just wanted to pull the curtain on the whole day. She also sent flowers later with a note saying she promised "better days were coming". Of course, being the mush I had become, I cried and was sure she was wrong and that I was never going to feel better again. I was supposed to host an event at church the next day and knew I was just not capable of doing that, so I called a friend at church who could understand my request between my tears (yeah, there was a lot of that yesterday) and graciously took over the event for me. Again and again, God keeps sending me company and strength through others. And I am thankful for every conversation and act of kindness that everyone has shown me. But the weekend was still so bad, that at one point I actually said to my husband, "I don't think I can do this." He told me, "Hon, you have to...we'll get through this together...you'll feel better tomorrow."
Easy for him to say....but he was right.
This morning, I got up and my head wasn't pounding as much. I still feel like I am on a ship sailing over the ocean and I don't have my "sea legs", but I no longer feel like it will take every once of energy and strength just to get to the bathroom. I was able to eat a little more today, and by this afternoon was even able to take a short walk with my husband right out front. The air felt so good and I breathed it in again and again, clearing out all that yuck inside me. Maybe I can make it through this round after all.
Of course, this is only round one. Three more rounds with a drug that is called by chemo patients the "red devil"...and it is aptly named. I hope this uphill climb keeps bringing me out of the tunnel. We have a wedding to go to next Friday and it's hard not to know if I will be OK. I hate not being able to plan my life....but for now, chemo is my life.
So, the crash did happen just as my doc said. I've made a list of all my side effects so I can go over them with her when I meet her for my mid-week check up. Hopefully, she can direct me somehow so the next round can be slightly more bearable. It was indeed a very bumpy ride!
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
After Effects
So, today is three days after chemo day. The first day all was well and I was glad to be done with round one. I ate very light, as they suggested and took that anti-nausea medicine religiously. The nausea was not an issue and really is still not. In fact, today, I am off anti-nausea meds and it's OK. The next day I had to go back for a shot that was a "white cell count booster". They said that there is usually no side effect except maybe some bone pain in your mid-body. Fortunately, also that did not happen.
However, yesterday, the port was becoming a little red (and I was as well), and pretty uncomfortable, so I didn't waste any time, but called the oncologist to ask if this was "normal". I am finding out that many things in the cancer journey that we may not think are normal...are normal. Since infection is always a risk, she asked me to come in. So. for the third day in a row (chemo, shot, and now the port), I went back to the cancer center. They were really great, and let me know that I was not being "silly" by worrying and put me right at ease. It turns out, everything was OK, and that the steroids they gave me on chemo day were making me a little red...and the port was just bruised and sore.
I have been able to get into work this week, and it is good to see the kids (did I mention I direct a preschool?). Of course, I have to keep my hand sanitizer handy for those hands that have just wiped their nose...but it is good to see so much life and wonder through their eyes. And...they are glad to see me! You gotta love that!
My main complaint is this darn headache that won't go away. I have it at night and during the day to varying degrees of annoyance. I have been able to take Tylenol for it, but it just dulls it and it really doesn't go completely away. Today it is at its worst. I guess that's going to be "my thing"...my side effect.
Doc said not to be surprised if I "crash" this weekend...but did give the good news that the upswing will happen next week and I should feel better. Just in time....to start chemo number two. Whoopie! And they tell you that if your counts aren't in the right place, then it is delayed. That would be a bummer. You just want to get it all counted down and done. But I am still a long way from there...just a beginner, in fact.
My sister-in-law is coming for a visit in a week. It will be good to see her and have the company. She will give my husband some time to stop "hovering" and be able to go to some of his meetings and other things. He is always involved in so much, I don't want him to feel he has to stay right here. But, right now, it's where he feels comfortable being. But I don't want this treatment to make him feel he has to give up his life.
So today is not a great day, but it is also the day they mentioned as being the one I might experience any side effects. So, I am hopeful that tomorrow will be a better day and the upswiing can't come soon enough!
However, yesterday, the port was becoming a little red (and I was as well), and pretty uncomfortable, so I didn't waste any time, but called the oncologist to ask if this was "normal". I am finding out that many things in the cancer journey that we may not think are normal...are normal. Since infection is always a risk, she asked me to come in. So. for the third day in a row (chemo, shot, and now the port), I went back to the cancer center. They were really great, and let me know that I was not being "silly" by worrying and put me right at ease. It turns out, everything was OK, and that the steroids they gave me on chemo day were making me a little red...and the port was just bruised and sore.
I have been able to get into work this week, and it is good to see the kids (did I mention I direct a preschool?). Of course, I have to keep my hand sanitizer handy for those hands that have just wiped their nose...but it is good to see so much life and wonder through their eyes. And...they are glad to see me! You gotta love that!
My main complaint is this darn headache that won't go away. I have it at night and during the day to varying degrees of annoyance. I have been able to take Tylenol for it, but it just dulls it and it really doesn't go completely away. Today it is at its worst. I guess that's going to be "my thing"...my side effect.
Doc said not to be surprised if I "crash" this weekend...but did give the good news that the upswing will happen next week and I should feel better. Just in time....to start chemo number two. Whoopie! And they tell you that if your counts aren't in the right place, then it is delayed. That would be a bummer. You just want to get it all counted down and done. But I am still a long way from there...just a beginner, in fact.
My sister-in-law is coming for a visit in a week. It will be good to see her and have the company. She will give my husband some time to stop "hovering" and be able to go to some of his meetings and other things. He is always involved in so much, I don't want him to feel he has to stay right here. But, right now, it's where he feels comfortable being. But I don't want this treatment to make him feel he has to give up his life.
So today is not a great day, but it is also the day they mentioned as being the one I might experience any side effects. So, I am hopeful that tomorrow will be a better day and the upswiing can't come soon enough!
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
The Other Side of the Mountain
I feel like I climbed the highest mountain yesterday and now can walk down the other side.
I brought my bag of "stuff" for the day which included a "chemo blanket" from a friend which was happy with flowers and colors. I was the envy of the room! It does get cold in there, so you do need one. She also gave me some other things that she had researched online that chemo patients need, and she was right-on! I brought too much this time, but now I know what to bring for next time.
But the best news of all is that I DID IT! And now I know I can do the rest. My chemo nurse was so kind and so informative. She went over each and every thing she did and then sat and went over the my whole regimen and gave me many tips and "orders from the doctors" on what to do these next few days right after chemo to ensure the rest of the days are somewhat better. You start out with saline solution and then some meds for anti-nausea and other things. Then she alerts you that you are about to begin your chemo.
I was most happy that the sedation that I received while getting the port still had me in a calm, dreamy state so that I was in a better place to begin. When she came with the "red medicine" in that syringe, I thought..."This is it....this will be the beginning and if I can get through this, then the rest will be OK." As one, two, three syringes made their way into my body, I was so pleased not to be growing a third head, seeing parts of my body change radically, or losing one of my senses (I know, exaggerated worry...yeah, I'm guilty!) but this made me feel much better about all that was going on. The second drug also went in fine and then more saline, flushing the port, add a little heparin, and I was good to go. (And...bonus...with the first drug your pee turns red...however, red pee is not as pretty as the blue pee from the surgery)
Everyone in the chemo party room was fun to talk to. I love hearing people's stories, so for me it is good to have others that are willing to talk and get to know you. It is, kinda, like a family...a family of people caught up in something they didn't expect, and drawn together by the sharing of themselves.
Once I got home, I didn't feel any different. Took nausea med before bed and again this morning. Also have another to take at 2 pm. Then repeat (like shampooing) the med before bed again tonight and tomorrow...etc., etc. There is also an additional med that can be taken if these are not enough. So far, so good...hopefully it will remain as so. I have also been eating very lightly as they said. The funny thing is, they tell you to think differently about food...."healthy" food can be tough on you right now and cause some reactions to your digestive tract that you may not want. So, for now, proteins and grains are the rule of the day. And water, water, water to flush it all out quickly.
We go back tonight at 5 pm for a shot, and then I don't go back for another week. As the chemo nurse told me, I will start to feel fatigued, then start feeling better....then it is time to get the drugs again. But, now I know I can do it!
I am so thankful for this treatment that will only bring me more health in the future. I won't be done for quite some time, and then the mystectomies are next....but in about a year, this will be behind me and I can help others who go through this journey. I hope I am helping some of them right now.
Lastly, is something to think about...the male nurse that was with me after the port was put in was telling me how more and more women of my age are being diagnosed with breast cancer. And he agreed that it is almost epidemic. So, let's work on finding out just what we are doing to our bodies, with the environment, with our food, with medications.....that may be putting many of us through this journey that we don't really want to take. Because if we don't have to climb the mountain to begin with, we will all be better off.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Power of Words
There is a lot of power in the words we use. In fact, the way in which we deliver our words has just as much of an impact. Words are our most important link with each other and with the world around us.
As one of my friends said, "After your meltdown, you will probably feel much better." And she was right. There was just too much emotion and too many words that were piling up inside me. And the volcano erupted so I could have some release.
It was a good weekend. We visited our granddaughter (who is full of words...funny and loving) and her parents. It was good to see my son again and feel his arms around me and hear "I love you". Three words that are like a balm to our hearts...you can never hear them enough.
The weekend became a reminder of words and their place in my life now. I was asked questions about my surgery, my treatment, my prognosis, etc. And I had a whole new vocabulary to use in my answers. Listening, reading, and gathering information has taken a large part of my time lately. Sometimes, the information just overloads my circuits, and I need to stop for a while. At other times, I am searching for answers and read anything I can find. And of course, this month is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, so news and information is just about everywhere. You can't pick up a newspaper or magazine that doesn't contain an article about it...and it seems most people you see or teams playing a sport are all wearing something pink to bring attention to breast cancer awareness. A good friend of ours earned her spot on the pink parade by participating in a breast cancer walk and she had asked if she could put my name (as well as others she knew who had beast cancer) on her shirt. I was so proud and thankful that she did this! But I also kept thinking...."wow, I'm now on someone's shirt...I never thought I would be there." And maybe we should all take note of that. Because you never know who breast cancer will hit next. If you are reading this and haven't had your mammography lately, please use your words and make that appointment RIGHT NOW!
The words that meant the most this weekend were the words of hope and comfort from others. There were no stories of "Aunt Mildred who had a horrific time with chemo or Aunt Sue who never made it past two years, etc., etc." Yeah....people DO tell you those stories. I'm not sure why they feel obligated to give you the sordid details, but they do. And these words are definitely words you need to walk away from. But the words I received were mainly from the members of my son's church (who all know my story) who just wanted to say they were praying for me, and knew that everything would be OK. I figure right now, I have just about every Christian church denomination and a few synagogues praying some good words for me. And I know God is listening and sending me the strength to get through this.
Tomorrow I have the port put in and then go right to the Cancer Center to have the first chemo cocktail mixed and put in an IV bag just for me. I have always hated taking any kind of medications, so the thought of all these chemicals messing (and eventual healing....let's not forget!) my body is unsettling. Not to mention the three prescriptions of anti-nausea meds that have been sent to me already. I feel like my body will never be the same again...and I guess, really...it isn't. I'm scared, I'm nervous and I'm anxious. But I need to do what I need to do.
I received two items this weekend that also have to do with words. The first was a NEW COMPUTER! Ours was a dinosaur from about 15 years ago that was extinct and slowly dying. I was starting to have trouble doing this blog at home as the computer kept freezing and making strange sounds. My son works in an IT department of his company and his boss offered one of the computers that no one was using. So, my son programmed it and what a blessing and unexpected gift that was from both of them! Now, I don't have to worry about not being able to get my words onto this blog...and this blog has become good and necessary company during this journey.
The second item was a sweatshirt from a couple we have known for a long time. And it has the same words as my bracelet...."Fight Like A Girl"...but I particularly love the pink punching bags after the words! Pictures really CAN say a thousand words. In this case they say, "We love you, we are praying for you, thinking of you, sending you strength, and behind you all the way. You CAN do this!" And as my young niece would have said a couple years ago...."Word UP!"
As one of my friends said, "After your meltdown, you will probably feel much better." And she was right. There was just too much emotion and too many words that were piling up inside me. And the volcano erupted so I could have some release.
It was a good weekend. We visited our granddaughter (who is full of words...funny and loving) and her parents. It was good to see my son again and feel his arms around me and hear "I love you". Three words that are like a balm to our hearts...you can never hear them enough.
The weekend became a reminder of words and their place in my life now. I was asked questions about my surgery, my treatment, my prognosis, etc. And I had a whole new vocabulary to use in my answers. Listening, reading, and gathering information has taken a large part of my time lately. Sometimes, the information just overloads my circuits, and I need to stop for a while. At other times, I am searching for answers and read anything I can find. And of course, this month is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, so news and information is just about everywhere. You can't pick up a newspaper or magazine that doesn't contain an article about it...and it seems most people you see or teams playing a sport are all wearing something pink to bring attention to breast cancer awareness. A good friend of ours earned her spot on the pink parade by participating in a breast cancer walk and she had asked if she could put my name (as well as others she knew who had beast cancer) on her shirt. I was so proud and thankful that she did this! But I also kept thinking...."wow, I'm now on someone's shirt...I never thought I would be there." And maybe we should all take note of that. Because you never know who breast cancer will hit next. If you are reading this and haven't had your mammography lately, please use your words and make that appointment RIGHT NOW!
The words that meant the most this weekend were the words of hope and comfort from others. There were no stories of "Aunt Mildred who had a horrific time with chemo or Aunt Sue who never made it past two years, etc., etc." Yeah....people DO tell you those stories. I'm not sure why they feel obligated to give you the sordid details, but they do. And these words are definitely words you need to walk away from. But the words I received were mainly from the members of my son's church (who all know my story) who just wanted to say they were praying for me, and knew that everything would be OK. I figure right now, I have just about every Christian church denomination and a few synagogues praying some good words for me. And I know God is listening and sending me the strength to get through this.
Tomorrow I have the port put in and then go right to the Cancer Center to have the first chemo cocktail mixed and put in an IV bag just for me. I have always hated taking any kind of medications, so the thought of all these chemicals messing (and eventual healing....let's not forget!) my body is unsettling. Not to mention the three prescriptions of anti-nausea meds that have been sent to me already. I feel like my body will never be the same again...and I guess, really...it isn't. I'm scared, I'm nervous and I'm anxious. But I need to do what I need to do.
I received two items this weekend that also have to do with words. The first was a NEW COMPUTER! Ours was a dinosaur from about 15 years ago that was extinct and slowly dying. I was starting to have trouble doing this blog at home as the computer kept freezing and making strange sounds. My son works in an IT department of his company and his boss offered one of the computers that no one was using. So, my son programmed it and what a blessing and unexpected gift that was from both of them! Now, I don't have to worry about not being able to get my words onto this blog...and this blog has become good and necessary company during this journey.
The second item was a sweatshirt from a couple we have known for a long time. And it has the same words as my bracelet...."Fight Like A Girl"...but I particularly love the pink punching bags after the words! Pictures really CAN say a thousand words. In this case they say, "We love you, we are praying for you, thinking of you, sending you strength, and behind you all the way. You CAN do this!" And as my young niece would have said a couple years ago...."Word UP!"
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Reality Check
OK, today I had my meltdown. I've been going through my days and coping pretty well, I thought. Today, not so good. Today was the "polar ice cap meltdown".
What pushed me over the top? I don't completely know...and yet, it was everything. I think I was a victim of the famous "If You're Standing, Then You're OK" syndrome. You know what I mean...where you are going through all the motions of your usual day-to-day, (when all the while in your mind you are crawling into a hole) and all that people around you see is just what you are fooling the world into thinking...that you are OK...but you are definitely NOT OK.
Today, I felt like I wasn't being heard. I felt like I was letting people know..."Hey, cut me a little slack here." But I mustn't have been using strong enough words. I felt like others were trying to push me into making decisions or plans for things that were coming up in the near future...and no one was hearing that I just wanted them to go away because I didn't know what my near future was going to look like and what kind of plans I could make. I am one of those "Superwomen" who love to run around in a cape rescuing the world. But right now, I am the one who needs rescuing and no one is asking to put on the cape.
My initial chemo party is starting next Tuesday. The same day as my port is put in....in fact, I go from the port surgery right over to the cancer center to be plugged into the cocktail they will have ready for me. So, a reality check really began in earnest when I heard this yesterday. Yes, I have cancer...it is mine...and it is not going to be easy getting free of it.
My oncologist gave me a hug at the end of the appointment. She's a cutie (remember my husband thinks she is 17...but she actually did go to medical school and has practiced for a while) and she said all the right things for someone who must have to give this news and information many times in a day. But, as I was waiting in the room for her, women were passing in the hallway with heads that were in various degrees of baldness and I was only too aware of what lies ahead. Women love their hair. In fact, we are often defined by it. To not have hair to hide behind or to help "blend in" to the non-cancer crowd really defines what is in charge of our body. And it is hard to give that power over to something else.
This is how the meltdown can become something whole again...by seeing God extending His comfort to me through others that love me and care for me. So, I take a breath, take a reality check, and give myself time to become OK again. Today not OK....but I know OK is there somewhere and I will climb over the meltdown to find it.
What pushed me over the top? I don't completely know...and yet, it was everything. I think I was a victim of the famous "If You're Standing, Then You're OK" syndrome. You know what I mean...where you are going through all the motions of your usual day-to-day, (when all the while in your mind you are crawling into a hole) and all that people around you see is just what you are fooling the world into thinking...that you are OK...but you are definitely NOT OK.
Today, I felt like I wasn't being heard. I felt like I was letting people know..."Hey, cut me a little slack here." But I mustn't have been using strong enough words. I felt like others were trying to push me into making decisions or plans for things that were coming up in the near future...and no one was hearing that I just wanted them to go away because I didn't know what my near future was going to look like and what kind of plans I could make. I am one of those "Superwomen" who love to run around in a cape rescuing the world. But right now, I am the one who needs rescuing and no one is asking to put on the cape.
My initial chemo party is starting next Tuesday. The same day as my port is put in....in fact, I go from the port surgery right over to the cancer center to be plugged into the cocktail they will have ready for me. So, a reality check really began in earnest when I heard this yesterday. Yes, I have cancer...it is mine...and it is not going to be easy getting free of it.
My oncologist gave me a hug at the end of the appointment. She's a cutie (remember my husband thinks she is 17...but she actually did go to medical school and has practiced for a while) and she said all the right things for someone who must have to give this news and information many times in a day. But, as I was waiting in the room for her, women were passing in the hallway with heads that were in various degrees of baldness and I was only too aware of what lies ahead. Women love their hair. In fact, we are often defined by it. To not have hair to hide behind or to help "blend in" to the non-cancer crowd really defines what is in charge of our body. And it is hard to give that power over to something else.
So, I began melting down at the end of the day and still have a meeting to go to tonight. But again, thankfully, God sends us the strength...and the "cape" to wear in the form of others. My hairdresser is giving me a wig and is going to help me through shaving my head when it is time. I have known her since she was a child, and now she is helping me like I am the child. A friend of ours whom we have known for more than 20 years called to say he is available to take me or pick me up from chemo whenever I want...just call him and he is there. A good friend called just when I needed someone to talk to and the words we shared were words I needed to hear. Two cards came in the mail from people I know who want me to call so they can share their experiences and help me feel less anxious about the chemo.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Fight Like A Girl!
The other day, I received in the mail one of those rubbery bracelets (in hot pink, of course) just the right size for my wrist that has printed on it, "Fight Like a Girl" along with the pink ribbon breast cancer symbol on either end. I wondered for the whole weekend who sent it? I asked so many people if they were the one who sent it and was about to appeal to the sender in this blog, Then today, my son told me he sent it. I love it! It's my sentiments exactly!
It appeals to me both in the reminder to fight....and the directive to do it like a "girl" (thanks, son, for that "girl" image...I feel so young now!). Because, honestly, girls....I think we do a pretty good job of standing up for ourselves, of not giving in, of turning the other cheek (even if we are stomping on someone's feet at the same time), and of gathering strength, pulling ourselves up by the bootstraps, and forging ahead! If I had to choose a team, I would always choose "Team Girl" over "Team Boy". So, Go Pink! We are beginning the fight right here and we won't stop...even when we see the "whites of their eyes".
I got one result today...and it was a good one (WHEW!). My PET scan showed no sign of cancer anywhere else. So, that is one result down. I also went to the breast surgeon and got my stitches out and had a great talk with her while I was there. I told her about my decision to do the double mastectomy and I don't think she was surprised at all. I wish everyone could have a surgeon like her...she even gave me a big kiss goodbye at the end of the visit! I go back to see her in 3 months and then we will open the conversation again and begin the planning for that particular stage in this journey. (By the way, she did say to tell my husband that since he didn't come to this visit, she missed another opportunity to feel his lung swell out through his chest muscle...told you medical personnel like that!). Tomorrow I go to see the oncologist at 4 pm to go over the chemo plans and all the do's, don'ts, and OK's and Not OK's.
The surgeon also mentioned the "W" word....WIG! And yes, I need to do this also. A blog or two back, I told you how I am dreading being "bang naked"? Well, you gotta love it....a neighbor of mine, who is also a breast cancer survivor (there are just too many of us around!), gave me a booklet from the American Cancer Society called "tlc" (yes, Tender Loving Care) that actually has BANGS THAT CAN ATTACH TO SCARVES AND HATS!!! I am soooo excited! It was like the greatest discovery since banana skins! AND....they also have these hair pieces that can also attach to a hat or scarf so it looks like you have hair in front of your ears! WOW...I can almost look "normal"! What a country America is! So, I will be ordering some "stuff" from them tomorrow and then going to the salon for the professional wig fit.
Lastly, tonight...I want to give a "shout out" to all the caregivers. We know we drive you crazy, and we know you care so much and you are trying to be strong for us. Every time I make some kind of movement that my husband thinks might mean I am hurting....he says quickly..."What's the matter...are you OK? What's wrong?" So I know he is still anxious about it all. I see him watching me when he thinks I am not looking. I know he hates the fact that everything seems to be changing around him and he just wants to go back to the way it was. But it can't. So...thank you, caregivers, for all you give us, for trying to hide your worry (but we know it means you care), and....for coping with the mood swings that are here to stay for a while....and mostly for loving us in spite of it all.
It appeals to me both in the reminder to fight....and the directive to do it like a "girl" (thanks, son, for that "girl" image...I feel so young now!). Because, honestly, girls....I think we do a pretty good job of standing up for ourselves, of not giving in, of turning the other cheek (even if we are stomping on someone's feet at the same time), and of gathering strength, pulling ourselves up by the bootstraps, and forging ahead! If I had to choose a team, I would always choose "Team Girl" over "Team Boy". So, Go Pink! We are beginning the fight right here and we won't stop...even when we see the "whites of their eyes".
I got one result today...and it was a good one (WHEW!). My PET scan showed no sign of cancer anywhere else. So, that is one result down. I also went to the breast surgeon and got my stitches out and had a great talk with her while I was there. I told her about my decision to do the double mastectomy and I don't think she was surprised at all. I wish everyone could have a surgeon like her...she even gave me a big kiss goodbye at the end of the visit! I go back to see her in 3 months and then we will open the conversation again and begin the planning for that particular stage in this journey. (By the way, she did say to tell my husband that since he didn't come to this visit, she missed another opportunity to feel his lung swell out through his chest muscle...told you medical personnel like that!). Tomorrow I go to see the oncologist at 4 pm to go over the chemo plans and all the do's, don'ts, and OK's and Not OK's.
The surgeon also mentioned the "W" word....WIG! And yes, I need to do this also. A blog or two back, I told you how I am dreading being "bang naked"? Well, you gotta love it....a neighbor of mine, who is also a breast cancer survivor (there are just too many of us around!), gave me a booklet from the American Cancer Society called "tlc" (yes, Tender Loving Care) that actually has BANGS THAT CAN ATTACH TO SCARVES AND HATS!!! I am soooo excited! It was like the greatest discovery since banana skins! AND....they also have these hair pieces that can also attach to a hat or scarf so it looks like you have hair in front of your ears! WOW...I can almost look "normal"! What a country America is! So, I will be ordering some "stuff" from them tomorrow and then going to the salon for the professional wig fit.
Lastly, tonight...I want to give a "shout out" to all the caregivers. We know we drive you crazy, and we know you care so much and you are trying to be strong for us. Every time I make some kind of movement that my husband thinks might mean I am hurting....he says quickly..."What's the matter...are you OK? What's wrong?" So I know he is still anxious about it all. I see him watching me when he thinks I am not looking. I know he hates the fact that everything seems to be changing around him and he just wants to go back to the way it was. But it can't. So...thank you, caregivers, for all you give us, for trying to hide your worry (but we know it means you care), and....for coping with the mood swings that are here to stay for a while....and mostly for loving us in spite of it all.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Anticipation
If you are a 60's child, like me, then you remember the song, Anticipation by Carly Simon. And that's what I am singing these days.
I just finished two scans over the weekend, which had to be done before chemo time. I figure my body has been seen both inside and out now by a multitude of people and lenses.
The first scan was called a MUGA scan, and it was to see heart muscle function. It is kinda scary that this is a necessary test to take before chemo since they tell you that "one of the chemo drugs is a 'little' (how little, I wonder) hard on the heart muscle." I'm thinking, great....my family has such good history with heart muscle. I can't wait to see if I will pass this test. If I do, I will credit my Grandmother, who lived to be over 90. The rest of my family was just not on the "good heart muscle line" when it was given out. I'm not sure exactly where they were, but I do know they didn't show up. For this test, you first get a shot of a radioactive substance and then sit for half an hour. Then you go into the test room, and lie down, with your clothes still on (no hospital butt-showing gown here) on a narrow slab. They do cover you with the warmest blanket and give you a pillow, though. Then, this weird box-like contraption zooms down over you and then kinda clicks its way around you. It's pretty open, thank God, so you don't feel claustrophobic. The best part about this test is that the test itself is only 15 minutes! My blanket barely got cold!
The second scan was the PET scan which will check your body for any other floating cancer. Again, you first get the wonderful "body-glowing" shot, and then they sit you in a recliner and tell you not to get up, walk, or talk for an hour. It is a really comfortable chair, though, and you once more have a pillow and a warm blanket. I sat and read a gossip magazine since all I could manage was reading something inconsequential. After an hour, they come in (and thank goodness, they let you use the bathroom....there is nothing like someone telling you that you cannot get up which suddenly makes your bladder feel full!) and escort you to the test room. This narrow slab was very long, and the cylinder for the scan very big. It reminded me of a hot tub on its side. But, the big opening didn't completely envelope your whole body at the same time, so again, not claustrophobic. And your head was out of it for periods of time. This scan took 25 minutes. You really hate having your arms above your head for that long, let me tell you.
So, now I've had these scans and for now, can check this off (oh yeah, I am sure that in this journey this will not be the only time for these scans). I felt pretty good that they were done. I got through it! And I didn't freak out! I was soooo glad....then....I remembered that now I would get another batch of results.
As I told you, during BBC (before breast cancer), I didn't give tests a second thought. I always breezed through them. My husband was the one who had the "problems", not me! But now, ABC (after breast cancer), I am the one with the "problems". And coming soon... some more tests results...oh goody.
We went to the movies today. It was a beautiful day out, but my husband thought I might like a funny movie so we went to see, "Life as We Know It". It was cute...predictable, but enjoyable. However, whenever they had one of those touching scenes, I found myself spilling tears like it was no tomorrow. I forgot that "tear control" is just not one of my assets right now. Every heart wrenching scene is a reminder of the fragility of "Life as We Know It"...and right now, I know it from an entirely different standpoint.
Suddenly, I'm sitting there during the movie thinking (once again) about my cancer and being afraid of the results of these scans. What if.....and What if....and OMG, What if.....???
It's hard to live through Anticipation....Carly knew it, and now I know it too! I keep remembering the oncologist saying, "I don't expect that we will find anything else". But I can't believe in those words anymore. My initial surgery and some radiation was supposed to be all I needed also at one time. But, it wasn't...so now I can't trust words as much as before.
On my fridge, I have a magnet that reads, "Whenever I feel blue, I start breathing again." A funny play on words...get it?? (clue: if you stop breathing, you turn blue). So, I will just keep breathing in and out until I get the results from these scans. Sometime this week, my oncologist should be calling to set up the appointment to discuss this, and scheduling that dreaded chemo. I figure it will be sometime after the port is put in on the 19th.
Since we know we will have this weekend, we are going to see our son, daughter-in-law and beloved granddaughter while I am still feeling pretty good. I am looking forward to this weekend and being with them again (they live about 3 hours away). And getting in a lot of hugs which will sustain me for a little while. Hug Therapy from a child is always a good antidote to any kind of worry and sadness.
As I have told you, friends and family have been so kind and encouraging that I keep going forward because they are holding me up. And God just keeps sending them on into my world (Go, God!). I figure it is one of the only benefits of cancer....people give so much and you can just sit back and absorb it all until it fills every corner of your heart.
So, these two scans done, and this week I have stitches out on Tuesday and wig fitting later in the week. One thing at a time...one step at a time....one minute at a time.
I just finished two scans over the weekend, which had to be done before chemo time. I figure my body has been seen both inside and out now by a multitude of people and lenses.
The first scan was called a MUGA scan, and it was to see heart muscle function. It is kinda scary that this is a necessary test to take before chemo since they tell you that "one of the chemo drugs is a 'little' (how little, I wonder) hard on the heart muscle." I'm thinking, great....my family has such good history with heart muscle. I can't wait to see if I will pass this test. If I do, I will credit my Grandmother, who lived to be over 90. The rest of my family was just not on the "good heart muscle line" when it was given out. I'm not sure exactly where they were, but I do know they didn't show up. For this test, you first get a shot of a radioactive substance and then sit for half an hour. Then you go into the test room, and lie down, with your clothes still on (no hospital butt-showing gown here) on a narrow slab. They do cover you with the warmest blanket and give you a pillow, though. Then, this weird box-like contraption zooms down over you and then kinda clicks its way around you. It's pretty open, thank God, so you don't feel claustrophobic. The best part about this test is that the test itself is only 15 minutes! My blanket barely got cold!
The second scan was the PET scan which will check your body for any other floating cancer. Again, you first get the wonderful "body-glowing" shot, and then they sit you in a recliner and tell you not to get up, walk, or talk for an hour. It is a really comfortable chair, though, and you once more have a pillow and a warm blanket. I sat and read a gossip magazine since all I could manage was reading something inconsequential. After an hour, they come in (and thank goodness, they let you use the bathroom....there is nothing like someone telling you that you cannot get up which suddenly makes your bladder feel full!) and escort you to the test room. This narrow slab was very long, and the cylinder for the scan very big. It reminded me of a hot tub on its side. But, the big opening didn't completely envelope your whole body at the same time, so again, not claustrophobic. And your head was out of it for periods of time. This scan took 25 minutes. You really hate having your arms above your head for that long, let me tell you.
So, now I've had these scans and for now, can check this off (oh yeah, I am sure that in this journey this will not be the only time for these scans). I felt pretty good that they were done. I got through it! And I didn't freak out! I was soooo glad....then....I remembered that now I would get another batch of results.
As I told you, during BBC (before breast cancer), I didn't give tests a second thought. I always breezed through them. My husband was the one who had the "problems", not me! But now, ABC (after breast cancer), I am the one with the "problems". And coming soon... some more tests results...oh goody.
We went to the movies today. It was a beautiful day out, but my husband thought I might like a funny movie so we went to see, "Life as We Know It". It was cute...predictable, but enjoyable. However, whenever they had one of those touching scenes, I found myself spilling tears like it was no tomorrow. I forgot that "tear control" is just not one of my assets right now. Every heart wrenching scene is a reminder of the fragility of "Life as We Know It"...and right now, I know it from an entirely different standpoint.
Suddenly, I'm sitting there during the movie thinking (once again) about my cancer and being afraid of the results of these scans. What if.....and What if....and OMG, What if.....???
It's hard to live through Anticipation....Carly knew it, and now I know it too! I keep remembering the oncologist saying, "I don't expect that we will find anything else". But I can't believe in those words anymore. My initial surgery and some radiation was supposed to be all I needed also at one time. But, it wasn't...so now I can't trust words as much as before.
On my fridge, I have a magnet that reads, "Whenever I feel blue, I start breathing again." A funny play on words...get it?? (clue: if you stop breathing, you turn blue). So, I will just keep breathing in and out until I get the results from these scans. Sometime this week, my oncologist should be calling to set up the appointment to discuss this, and scheduling that dreaded chemo. I figure it will be sometime after the port is put in on the 19th.
Since we know we will have this weekend, we are going to see our son, daughter-in-law and beloved granddaughter while I am still feeling pretty good. I am looking forward to this weekend and being with them again (they live about 3 hours away). And getting in a lot of hugs which will sustain me for a little while. Hug Therapy from a child is always a good antidote to any kind of worry and sadness.
As I have told you, friends and family have been so kind and encouraging that I keep going forward because they are holding me up. And God just keeps sending them on into my world (Go, God!). I figure it is one of the only benefits of cancer....people give so much and you can just sit back and absorb it all until it fills every corner of your heart.
So, these two scans done, and this week I have stitches out on Tuesday and wig fitting later in the week. One thing at a time...one step at a time....one minute at a time.
"Anticipation...is making me late,
Is keeping me waiting"
Hey Carly, I don't like waiting either...
or unwelcome surprises,
or things that go bump in the night!
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