Done!

I'm done. Had the last radiation this morning. And when I got home the first thing I did was jump into the shower and scrub the marks off my breast. I finally feel clean again! My breast is pink and my armpit is angry red. My nipple is peeling and my neck is raw, but now I can finally start healing. Yesterday they gave me two creams to put on the various shades of red and they really help ease the burned/raw skin.

Now, maybe I can start to get my life back to some semblance of normal. For instance, I can wear deodorant under my right arm again! I can wash my own hair and my entire body for that matter and not worry about trying to keep the soap from washing away lines. I can go to work at normal hours and start earning leave instead of using it all up.

I'm not really finished with cancer and doctors and such completely. I still have to have the tests and see the docs in thirty days. Then every three months see the onc again. And worry every time something doesn't feel right that it's come back. The reality is that chances are high that it'll come back. But for now, treatment is OVER! No more poison. And who cares what the odds are? My entire treatment has been atypical. Why stop now?

Anyway, I feel like I'm coming out of darkness. You could even say it's . . . wait for it . . .

The Dawn of a New Day.

Sorry, couldn't resist.

2 . . .

In a little while I'll drive to Alexandria for my second to last radiation treatment. I can't believe I'm almost finished with treatments.

In the last post I was mistaken about the severity of the skin burns. The onc told me it wouldn't get any worse than it was a week and a half ago, but it surely did. The weekend before last it just intensified. My neck became very red and painful. They gave my neck/collarbone the last radiation on Tuesday, but it just seems to get more painful. And my armpit has joined in the fun. I can't even wear a bra. Even the camisoles are uncomfortable. I took off from work starting last Wednesday and I'm supposed to go back this Wednesday. I hope I heal enough by then to wear a bra.

Now they are only treating around the scar on my breast. The last five treatments they concentrate on that area. If the cancer comes back that's a likely place for it so they really want to zap it.

I'm not sure if I talked about the prickly skin reaction I get sometimes. It happens if I get hot or if I get too stressed or if I exert myself too much. Then it's like my skin attacks me and it stings and prickles all over like ants biting or something. It's horrible! I'm sure this is left over nerve damage from the taxotere. I don't know if it'll ever stop. Now I'm starting to worry about doing the Susan G. Komen walk/run because walking a mile might bring on this reaction, especially if it's warm out. I'm really dreading summer.

Just two more treatments and then some time off for good behavior (about a month) before I have to go back to Shreveport for PET scans and CT scans and blood letting and seeing the analytical oncologist.

7 . . .

It's Saturday and I've still got seven to go. Unfortunately the broken machine put me back two days. Typical of how every little thing has gone on this wild trip.

The other people who have done this before me didn't lie when they said this would be the easiest part. The driving is not so bad with my books on CD from the library. The wait at the Center is never long, either. The doctor is pleasant.

Shall I update my symptoms? I'm a little tired, especially this week. Some of that, I'm sure, is from going later in the afternoon because they're fitting me in on someone else's machine (the machine I was being treated on is still being fixed). But I'm sleeping good at last (and in my bed, not in The Chair). They told me it would be like a really bad sunburn. Well, it is like a sunburn and a little itchy and blistered at places. But frankly, folks, I have had a really bad sunburn and this is just an ordinary sunburn. Doc said it has gotten as bad as it should at this point. The remaining treatments shouldn't make it worse. Which is great, because I've dealt with this sort of irritation many times in my life and that's all it really is, an irritation. Some of my bras are particularly aggravating, but I have some camisoles with support built in that I can wear instead of a bra.

All in all, I'm feeling pretty good about all this winding down. I just wish the little things that keep occurring to extend the treatment time would stop. Enough, already!

Referring to the treatment being pushed back two days someone said to me, "Yes but, you must see the light at the end of the tunnel." Actually, several someones have said this to me. My response to that is, of course I do, but...

Remember learning to swim? Mom or Dad would say, "Swim to me, I'm just right here." And you'd let go of the edge and paddle with all your might. And as you got closer they would keep moving back. That's what it feels like. And no matter how much encouragement they gave, "See, you're doing it! Your swimming. Come on!" you started to tire. Like that kid I once was, I want to yell, "Stop moving and catch me!"

But I keep swimming.

9 . . .

I got my computer back and I'm back online. I should have only 8 treatments left, but you know nothing ever goes as planned. Today I got a call from the radiation tech telling me their machine is on the fritz. Boy does that inspire confidence! Anyway, it was good of her to call me before I made the trip down there. And impressive that she reached me, because I leave at 5 to seven in the morning. Now they're waiting on a part and expect it to be up and running tomorrow. That pushes radiation back at least one day. I hope that's all. We're getting dangerously close to my birthday and we've already passed the one year mark on this whole nightmare.

I'm not going to make a big entry today, because I'm working on some other writing. I do want to mention, for you few friends I have stopping by from the children's writing community, an upcoming open forum on the ICL chatline. The topic is: "Writing for Teens" and the guest speaker is Lauren Barnholdt. She is the author of the upcoming REALITY CHICK from Simon Pulse, junior agent at Firebrand Literary, and co-author of an upcoming book about writing for teens. Should be fun and interesting. It's on Thursday evening 7-9 central time (you can figure out the time in your timezone or drop by ICL).

The good thing that happened today: spoke to the financial aid person at ULL and there may be some financial aid for Jeremy's tuition (besides TOPS) based on all the money we've spent out-of-pocket on medical expenses. Wha-hoo

13 . . .

My computer is tired and has been taken to the computer doc so I've been unable to log on. I'm at work now, unable to work, because our systems are down, but our internet is up (go figure). I thought I'd use the "free" time to stop by and jot down an entry.

Everything is going well. I'm still driving myself to radiation treatments. Going in the morning was the right idea because I'm not too tired to drive myself. Just 2 1/2 weeks left to go.

I met a woman the other day at the cancer treatment center. She walked right up to me (I was sitting in the waiting room) and put her hand on my head. She squealed, "You've got hair! Oh, I can't wait until I have hair and don't have to wear this wig. All I have is fuzz!"

I don't have much hair, but I stopped wearing the hats. It's just gotten too hot. Then, last Friday, I got a haircut (because I had a lot of that baby fly-away hair) and had it colored so I'm not salt and pepper anymore. I'll have Luke post a picture.

Now some business. There is this 5K run/race that raises money for breast cancer research put on by an organization called The Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. Anyway, they have these events all over the country. There is one coming up March 18 in Lafayette, La and I'm playing with the idea of trying to get as many people as I can (I really don't know that many people, but still) to meet me there and do the thing. I certainly can't do the 5K (and honestly, neither could most of my friends or family), but they have a one mile walk as well and that we could do. The entry fee is how they raise money and that's $20.

Here're some problems I've thought of (my mind is so very good at coming up with reasons why not to do things): The thing is in the morning, and most of us live about 2 to 2 1/2 hours away so it would probably require an overnight stay. That could actually be fun, but I'm totally unfamiliar with Lafayette, so how would I entertain everyone? And what would we do afterward? It only lasts a couple hours and, again, I would feel responsible to entertain everyone. It's about 5 1/2 weeks from now and I don't know if that's too soon for people to make plans. So, you see, I'm very unsure of the whole thing.

What I'm doing right now is feeling people out. I've got two people who said they'd like to do it. If anyone is still reading this blog, please email me or make a comment on the blog and let me know if you would go for it. There's another event in September in Shreveport, but that's a whole heck of a lot farther for everyone, but me.

And one other thing, Happy Birthday, yesterday, to Susan. You'll always be older than me.

17 . . .

I'm getting very tired now. I get home from the trip and take a nap before going to work. And I'm going to bed about 9:30, but still I'm tired. It's weird because the radiation doesn't feel like anything. It doesn't make you nauseous or anything. I do get a sharp pain in my armpit occasionally. It's not bad, but they offered me pain killers for it. They are free with pain meds for the cancer patient. I think that's a good thing, but it would be easy to become dependent.

Tomorrow I'll have a renal ultrasound. Of course, my back (kidney) doesn't hurt anymore. I'm so so tired of tests!

I'm losing my computer for a few days. It needs an overhaul, poor faithful servant! So I may not be logging in for a bit.

In the meantime, Happy Groundhog Day!