The day has come and gone. I've had my last chemotherapy treatment. It's been a week and you might expect I'd be so happy that I'd post right away and have some grand celebration. But things haven't really gone that way. Since it was the last, just for fun, this one hit me pretty good and right away. My stomach started cramping, not even waiting the usual day or two. The steroids made me particularly snippy and cranky so I was snapping at poor Luke and very short tempered about everything. Then it was Thanksgiving and then the "pain killer days" and then back to work and now I can tell my blood count is dropping because I'm soooo tired. Each day I've thought, I need to post about my completion of this phase of things, but each day I think, I just can't.
Today I'm going to try.
The day itself was like any other chemo day. It was a little surreal to look around at the other people having chemo and think I won't belong here anymore. I thought maybe there would be some acknowledgement by the nurses of the event. Of course, I go back to see the onc this Thursday for the 10 day post treatment blood sucking so while he did congratulate me on getting to the end of chemo, he's expecting to see me again soon. The nurse giving me my last treatment was the same who gave me the first. I said to her I thought it was apt that she be the one to do it for that reason. All she said to that was, "Oh, we're celebrating then?" I expected the other nurses might come by and congratulate me, but they didn't. I felt weird about that. I wanted balloons and whistles. I got a stomachache.
Of course, I wanted to bring them cookies or something and I forgot, so I guess I couldn't expect much if I couldn't manage any celebration myself.
Truthfully, I haven't wanted to celebrate because, just how do you celebrate in a way that doesn't involve food? I mean, food doesn't taste right, it's all metallic. Where's the fun in that? Also the poison is still coursing through my veins and I still feel weak and "off."
I'm elated not to have to have any more chemo. But in a muted sort of way. It's weird that the blasted chemo has even taken away my strength to feel joy at it being over.
Eventually I'll be able to jump up and down. For now I wave my arms slowly and lamely around and say, "wahoo." But everything is eventual with cancer. Eventually the tumor grows or shrinks. Slowly as the chemo is administered you eventually start to feel crappy, weak, pain. Eventually your hair falls out. Eventually you start to feel better, gain strength, until the next chemo, start again. Now that's it over, eventually my hair will grow back and food will taste right again (I hope) and my neuropathy will fade (I hope) and I'll get strong again.
My life will never be what it was before this happened, but maybe it will be as good. I will have paid a year (by the time radiation treatments are finished) to buy some life (though I can't know how much I've bought) with family and friends. Eventually I'll feel like celebrating.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
The Dishwasher Arrives
The hurricane dishwasher came Saturday. It took us an hour or so on Saturday and all day Sunday to remove the old one and install the new one. Actually, removing the old one took most of that time. That was a bugger (excuse my outrageous language here)! We were worried there for a bit that the new one wouldn't go in, but it slid right in easily. It's beautiful! Very white. I told Luke that we'll have to paint the cabinets now.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Veteran's Day
I have the day off today. I know, I know, but if you want these days off like me you're gonna have to get a government job. That's all there is to it.
I feel really normal today. I spent the day writing all day. But no, not blogging. I did go back and read some of my old entries from the first several chemo treatments. Geez, that was harder than I remember. Good thing we forget pain, isn't it? I completely forgot how rough the first four treatments were. I was thinking it was mostly the taxol, but it wasn't. The adriamycin and cytoxin were pretty awful. I know this much, I hope I won't have to go through that again!
It's beautiful outside today. I'm sitting at my kitchen table with the windows open, still in my pjs. There's a nice breeze coming in and I'm doing my favorite thing - writing.
But alas, it's four o'clock in the afternoon. I better go shower now in case we want to go out to eat. Food tastes almost good today.
The good thing that happened: I'm alive and feeling fine.
Have you ever noticed that so much of what we say can be found in a song lyric somewhere?
I feel really normal today. I spent the day writing all day. But no, not blogging. I did go back and read some of my old entries from the first several chemo treatments. Geez, that was harder than I remember. Good thing we forget pain, isn't it? I completely forgot how rough the first four treatments were. I was thinking it was mostly the taxol, but it wasn't. The adriamycin and cytoxin were pretty awful. I know this much, I hope I won't have to go through that again!
It's beautiful outside today. I'm sitting at my kitchen table with the windows open, still in my pjs. There's a nice breeze coming in and I'm doing my favorite thing - writing.
But alas, it's four o'clock in the afternoon. I better go shower now in case we want to go out to eat. Food tastes almost good today.
The good thing that happened: I'm alive and feeling fine.
Have you ever noticed that so much of what we say can be found in a song lyric somewhere?
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Yet Another Doctor Appointment
Okay, things are going pretty good right now, but I'm wondering if there can be anything that goes smoothly without a hitch or does every aspect of this experience have to have some drama to it?
Monday I returned to the Cancer Treatment Center and had the dressing changed on the picc line. That went fast and easy, except that the area around the picc line was feeling sore. When the nurse removed the old dressing there was some bruising and swelling. She called another nurse over and they decided it was because the old dressing was on so tightly - they called it a pressure dressing (that was put on by the ultrasound tech when the picc line was inserted, I'm sure to keep it from bleeding.) Anyway, they felt it was okay and put another dressing on my arm and I went on my merry way.
As the days went by it didn't start feeling better, but worse. That brings me to today, my 10 days after chemo oncologist visit. The oncologist's nurse, Joan, decided (I don't know what happened to Mary, but wherever she is, she can stay there- Joan is a million times better and nicer and on the ball!) to change the dressing again and replace the plastic tape with clothe. It feels a lot better when I move my arm around! Then the onc gave me an antibiotic because my arm is actually a little red, swollen and warm. If it doesn't get better in a few days or gets worse I have to go back and have an ultrasound to make sure there isn't a clot, of all things.
Besides all that, though, things are going well. I'm feeling pretty good, if tired easily (when I am not these days?) and my blood counts were actually good this time. In fact, this particular cycle I'm doing better than I have after any of the treatments. The onc even joked that we seem to have fixed my kidneys as my creatinine is better than it has been since I started. I secretly suspect that part of it is knowing that the chemo is almost over. With only one treatment left I'm anticipating how I'm going to feel when they stop pumping poison through my body.
Somehow I managed to get the onc to talk about what happens after my next (AND LAST) chemo. He said he planned to discuss that the next time (remember he has his plan of how it all should go, but I haven't had the courtesy of following the plan very well). But he relented and answered my questions today.
My questions involved any further diagnostic tests and such. I mean, how do I know there isn't anything left in my neck? The surgeon couldn't remove that lymph node when he took all the rest. And one of the CT reports mentioned possible mets on the chest wall. (The onc said the radiologist was "wishy-washy" about whether there was anything there or not). Long story short, after radiation he and the radiation onc will get together and discuss it. I'll probably have some CT scans to establish a base line to go by in case I ever start having symptoms of recurrence. Remember, the tests can't pick up everything - only mets big enough to see. Then I'll be on a schedule of seeing the onc every three months for probably the next three years then maybe just every four months for I don't know how long after that, assuming I don't develop any more cancer in the meantime. This will fit right in to my doc filled lifestyle as I already have blood work every three months and visit the nephrologist every six months for my PKD. Some people (they must be sick) like seeing doctors all the time. I don't. I hate it.
The good thing that happened: I went to Dillards and the nice lady there helped me find a bra with pockets and inserts that I can wear to balance out my breast asymmetry. Now if I want to look even, I can.
Monday I returned to the Cancer Treatment Center and had the dressing changed on the picc line. That went fast and easy, except that the area around the picc line was feeling sore. When the nurse removed the old dressing there was some bruising and swelling. She called another nurse over and they decided it was because the old dressing was on so tightly - they called it a pressure dressing (that was put on by the ultrasound tech when the picc line was inserted, I'm sure to keep it from bleeding.) Anyway, they felt it was okay and put another dressing on my arm and I went on my merry way.
As the days went by it didn't start feeling better, but worse. That brings me to today, my 10 days after chemo oncologist visit. The oncologist's nurse, Joan, decided (I don't know what happened to Mary, but wherever she is, she can stay there- Joan is a million times better and nicer and on the ball!) to change the dressing again and replace the plastic tape with clothe. It feels a lot better when I move my arm around! Then the onc gave me an antibiotic because my arm is actually a little red, swollen and warm. If it doesn't get better in a few days or gets worse I have to go back and have an ultrasound to make sure there isn't a clot, of all things.
Besides all that, though, things are going well. I'm feeling pretty good, if tired easily (when I am not these days?) and my blood counts were actually good this time. In fact, this particular cycle I'm doing better than I have after any of the treatments. The onc even joked that we seem to have fixed my kidneys as my creatinine is better than it has been since I started. I secretly suspect that part of it is knowing that the chemo is almost over. With only one treatment left I'm anticipating how I'm going to feel when they stop pumping poison through my body.
Somehow I managed to get the onc to talk about what happens after my next (AND LAST) chemo. He said he planned to discuss that the next time (remember he has his plan of how it all should go, but I haven't had the courtesy of following the plan very well). But he relented and answered my questions today.
My questions involved any further diagnostic tests and such. I mean, how do I know there isn't anything left in my neck? The surgeon couldn't remove that lymph node when he took all the rest. And one of the CT reports mentioned possible mets on the chest wall. (The onc said the radiologist was "wishy-washy" about whether there was anything there or not). Long story short, after radiation he and the radiation onc will get together and discuss it. I'll probably have some CT scans to establish a base line to go by in case I ever start having symptoms of recurrence. Remember, the tests can't pick up everything - only mets big enough to see. Then I'll be on a schedule of seeing the onc every three months for probably the next three years then maybe just every four months for I don't know how long after that, assuming I don't develop any more cancer in the meantime. This will fit right in to my doc filled lifestyle as I already have blood work every three months and visit the nephrologist every six months for my PKD. Some people (they must be sick) like seeing doctors all the time. I don't. I hate it.
The good thing that happened: I went to Dillards and the nice lady there helped me find a bra with pockets and inserts that I can wear to balance out my breast asymmetry. Now if I want to look even, I can.
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Lazy Sunday
Hey folks! Just hanging around Sunday afternoon taking it easy. This week hasn't been so bad. I guess the extra blood really helped. I took half days from work on Thursday and Friday, just to be sure not to over do it. Yesterday, being the Saturday after chemo, was my worst with pain in my back (like electrical shocks running up and down my spine) but I took the pain meds and soon was singing and happy.
My biggest challenge for now is keeping the dressing for the pic line dry when I shower or bathe. I wrap my arm in that Glad press and seal wrap. It works really well. I recommend it if you ever need to keep a limb dry. The only trouble is it does stick to your skin, so pulling it off is like pulling off a really big bandaid. A little ouchy.
The great thing that happened (boy am I glad to write that, been a little gloomy lately) is that our evacuees from the hurricane have bought us a dishwasher to thank us for taking them in! Imagine that! Now I'm sure they know that we were just happy to have a house they could come to and besides, they thanked us plenty while they were here! It was totally unnecessary, but quite thoughtful of them and I thank them for the unexpected gift. I'm also happy they've been able to return to their homes and are getting things back to normal slowly but surely.
My biggest challenge for now is keeping the dressing for the pic line dry when I shower or bathe. I wrap my arm in that Glad press and seal wrap. It works really well. I recommend it if you ever need to keep a limb dry. The only trouble is it does stick to your skin, so pulling it off is like pulling off a really big bandaid. A little ouchy.
The great thing that happened (boy am I glad to write that, been a little gloomy lately) is that our evacuees from the hurricane have bought us a dishwasher to thank us for taking them in! Imagine that! Now I'm sure they know that we were just happy to have a house they could come to and besides, they thanked us plenty while they were here! It was totally unnecessary, but quite thoughtful of them and I thank them for the unexpected gift. I'm also happy they've been able to return to their homes and are getting things back to normal slowly but surely.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
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