Yesterday I went to this program for women with cancer called "Look Good, Feel Better." Ideally you would do this early in your treatment because they give you tips on wearing a wig and skin care and such. They also give you a bunch of free makeup and show you how to properly apply it. Sounds fun, huh? Not as much as you might think. It was me and three old ladies. One of them brought her husband and 15 year old grandson. Weird!
The drive is getting to be automatic. I went to the library and got a couple of books on CD and I listen to one of those on the road. It's weird listening to these things. It takes some getting used to. Some are no good because the readers aren't good and you're too aware of the reader to focus on the story. Others are read with flare and you get right into it. At the end they say something like, "Thank you for reading audio books." Which is an oxymoron, I think, but they want people to feel like they are readers. I don't know why. Experiencing the book is the important part, not the action (or inaction in the case of audio books) used to experience it.
Now I'm starting to feel like maybe I should be using that time in the car better. Maybe I should be learning another language or something. Be constructive.
Anyway, the time is passing quickly now that I've finished the first week. That week was frustrating because it seemed that each day there was something additional to be done that they didn't tell me about and I never knew when to tell my boss I'd get to work. Now I have a routine and don't go into work until noon (work till six) so I feel more flexible.
I'm still having pain in my left kidney and am waiting on a urinalysis culture done last week. Frustrating!
The good thing that happened: I've been very lucky with pleasant weather for driving.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Thursday, January 26, 2006
22 to Go
Can't say much today because I haven't much time, but I wanted to sign in and say I'm doing fine. I'm having computer issues which are keeping me from writing.
I'm into the swing of driving back and forth. Then I come home, eat and take a nap before going to work at noon. I'm working six hours a day for now.
The physical therapist strongly recommends daily exercise to fight the fatigue, but I can't walk very long with my feet the way they are. They're still very painful. Or rather, more painful now that I'm not taking the neurontin. I'm hopeful the pain will ease with time. With walking out, I started riding my bike to work again this week. That seems to be working out and helping. I'm certainly sleeping more soundly. It's bad to be tired all the time and not be able to sleep.
Time's run out, gotta head out.
I'm into the swing of driving back and forth. Then I come home, eat and take a nap before going to work at noon. I'm working six hours a day for now.
The physical therapist strongly recommends daily exercise to fight the fatigue, but I can't walk very long with my feet the way they are. They're still very painful. Or rather, more painful now that I'm not taking the neurontin. I'm hopeful the pain will ease with time. With walking out, I started riding my bike to work again this week. That seems to be working out and helping. I'm certainly sleeping more soundly. It's bad to be tired all the time and not be able to sleep.
Time's run out, gotta head out.
Monday, January 16, 2006
29 to Go
Four radiation treatments down and just 29 to go. What a wacky world! I am told I must try not to get soap on my breast because the lines they draw are with an iodine pen and they don't want them to come off. The first time they drew them was a week before treatment started. By the time I went in for the first treatment the lines had faded so much they looked like scars all over my chest. The pink lines matched my surgery scars.
Okay, here's my first rant about this phase of treatment. I was pretty frustrated when I went in on January 3rd to get the markings. I had been told before Christmas that I'd start actual treatment the first week of January. But no! It turns out I had to wait a week after the line drawing. That pushed back the cancer treatment finale another week. And there's more! Treatment isn't actually six weeks, it's really 33 days, Monday through Friday, which is six and a half weeks plus the week of waiting after going in for the marking. What all this means is that instead of finishing mid-February as I expected, it's now looking like just a few days before my birthday. My boob will still be "sunburned."
You'd think by this time I'd've learned to stop planning for the end of treatment and just take things as they come. Having to wait until the second week of January actually worked in my favor. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to go with Luke on our jaunt through Texas.
I used to like to say, "If it's not one thing, it's another." Like Roseanne Roseannadanna. But these days a more fitting thing would be, "When it rains, it pours!" Because I never have only one problem. Always they come in clusters. Last week I started treatment and developed a kidney infection. I finished the anti-biotic today, thank goodness, because it was making me queasy and I haven't been sleeping. Inability to sleep is actually a side effect of the anti-biotic. Not a good thing when I'm driving to Alexandria and back daily. My right arm is sore, also, and I can't raise it with the elbow bent (like I'm flying). This means I need Luke to help me undress. Fun, sure, under the right circumstances, but not when you don't have a choice.
The good thing: the radiation oncologist has a physical therapist on staff because he recognized a need that, more often than not, wasn't being addressed by either the surgeons or the chemo oncologists. The information I've gotten on how I should treat my arm and whether to wear the sleeve has been conflicting. It was a relief to get instructions I can feel confident in. I'll meet with her tomorrow about my arm and find out what I need to do.
Can't stay awake any more. I might rewrite this later, but for now I'll publish this as is.
Okay, here's my first rant about this phase of treatment. I was pretty frustrated when I went in on January 3rd to get the markings. I had been told before Christmas that I'd start actual treatment the first week of January. But no! It turns out I had to wait a week after the line drawing. That pushed back the cancer treatment finale another week. And there's more! Treatment isn't actually six weeks, it's really 33 days, Monday through Friday, which is six and a half weeks plus the week of waiting after going in for the marking. What all this means is that instead of finishing mid-February as I expected, it's now looking like just a few days before my birthday. My boob will still be "sunburned."
You'd think by this time I'd've learned to stop planning for the end of treatment and just take things as they come. Having to wait until the second week of January actually worked in my favor. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to go with Luke on our jaunt through Texas.
I used to like to say, "If it's not one thing, it's another." Like Roseanne Roseannadanna. But these days a more fitting thing would be, "When it rains, it pours!" Because I never have only one problem. Always they come in clusters. Last week I started treatment and developed a kidney infection. I finished the anti-biotic today, thank goodness, because it was making me queasy and I haven't been sleeping. Inability to sleep is actually a side effect of the anti-biotic. Not a good thing when I'm driving to Alexandria and back daily. My right arm is sore, also, and I can't raise it with the elbow bent (like I'm flying). This means I need Luke to help me undress. Fun, sure, under the right circumstances, but not when you don't have a choice.
The good thing: the radiation oncologist has a physical therapist on staff because he recognized a need that, more often than not, wasn't being addressed by either the surgeons or the chemo oncologists. The information I've gotten on how I should treat my arm and whether to wear the sleeve has been conflicting. It was a relief to get instructions I can feel confident in. I'll meet with her tomorrow about my arm and find out what I need to do.
Can't stay awake any more. I might rewrite this later, but for now I'll publish this as is.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Marked Woman
Okay, so I haven't been exactly gabby lately and I've neglected even the pretence of keeping up the blog. The truth is, I just haven't felt like turning the computer on. If I could do this while I was at work it might be different, but I can't and so this is it.
Here's where I stand. I've started radiation and have had two treatments. Last week I wrote a rant about being marked, but I can't seem to either locate it or muster up the indignation I was feeling at the time. Here's the super watered down version of last weeks appointment.
I went in to be marked on Tuesday the 3rd. This took forever and was sheer torture. Here's how it goes. They position you on the x-ray table with your breasts exposed, both arms above your head, your head turned slightly to the left (left for me, your experiences may be different, taking into account the actual breast to be treated) and told to remain still, don't move, while they take x-rays. Then they have to find the doctor to look at the films and make sure all is right, please remain still. And they leave you there for a really long time, half naked and afraid to move because then they'd have to start all over. After the doctor comes in and looks at you the tech tickles you with a pen to draw lines on you. All this time I'm thinking of "Survivor" where they make people stand in awkward positions for hours to win immunity. I concluded that I'd never win the immunity necklace because I wouldn't even try. By the time she finally let me move (I think I was in that position for 30 minutes or more) both of my hands were completely numb and my left arm was dead. I had to sit up on the table a bit before standing because of the dizziness caused by my blood starting to circulate again. Honestly, I almost cried lying on that table.
Oh, no. I can't finish now, I have to get on the road to Alexandria for this morning's treatment. Tune in next time for the continuing saga (and I'll try to remember to continue it).
Here's where I stand. I've started radiation and have had two treatments. Last week I wrote a rant about being marked, but I can't seem to either locate it or muster up the indignation I was feeling at the time. Here's the super watered down version of last weeks appointment.
I went in to be marked on Tuesday the 3rd. This took forever and was sheer torture. Here's how it goes. They position you on the x-ray table with your breasts exposed, both arms above your head, your head turned slightly to the left (left for me, your experiences may be different, taking into account the actual breast to be treated) and told to remain still, don't move, while they take x-rays. Then they have to find the doctor to look at the films and make sure all is right, please remain still. And they leave you there for a really long time, half naked and afraid to move because then they'd have to start all over. After the doctor comes in and looks at you the tech tickles you with a pen to draw lines on you. All this time I'm thinking of "Survivor" where they make people stand in awkward positions for hours to win immunity. I concluded that I'd never win the immunity necklace because I wouldn't even try. By the time she finally let me move (I think I was in that position for 30 minutes or more) both of my hands were completely numb and my left arm was dead. I had to sit up on the table a bit before standing because of the dizziness caused by my blood starting to circulate again. Honestly, I almost cried lying on that table.
Oh, no. I can't finish now, I have to get on the road to Alexandria for this morning's treatment. Tune in next time for the continuing saga (and I'll try to remember to continue it).
Monday, January 09, 2006
Pictures from Glen Rose, TX
I had to take a quick business trip out to Greenville, TX on Friday and since Dawn was willing to come with me we decided to live "free and easy" and did some extra traveling. After visiting our friends the Nesom's in Ft.Worth were we checked out a downtown comedy club on Friday night, we headed out to Glen Rose, TX on Saturday to see dinosaur footprints in the Pawtuxley River riverbed.
Here are some pics!
- Luke
Here are some pics!
- Luke
Monday, January 02, 2006
The Holidays are Wrapped Up
A belated Happy Holidays to everyone. We made it through Christmas and it turned out to be a nice holiday weekend even though everything is so weird this year. Normally we would go down to New Orleans for Christmas.
It's January 2nd now and we go back to work tomorrow. I don't want to. Three days off is not enough. I have things to do and as always, not enough time. I suppose if I had more energy I'd be able to use my time better. Yet another frustration.
The weather was beautiful yesterday and the day before, but today, believe it or not, it was too hot. I'm painting two bedside tables out in the garage and I had to stop and get out of the heat. People are saying things like, "Nearly 80 degrees on January 2, can you believe it!" But, truthfully, everyone can. Or at least those who've grown up in Louisiana. Because here you may be bundled against the wind and cold on Christmas or New Years, or running around in shorts. Sometimes both in the same year. Neither is unusual. Last year (2004) when we went to New Orleans for Christmas we were stuck an extra day because it snowed and the roads were closed.
Physically, I've been getting better and stronger, but emotionally I had a little set back today. Maybe it came out as a stress releaser after the holidays. Maybe, this whole trip has gone on too long and it's getting harder for me to "keep my chin up."
I'm looking ahead to radiation treatment. This is supposed to cause more fatigue and the driving back and forth to Alexandria won't help. I wish I knew someone there to stay with during the week for the last couple of weeks. I'd take off from work. But that's not realistic anyway because the radiation doesn't really take long and there's no reason I can't work at least half days.
I know, cheer up! The end is in sight. By my birthday, March 2, I should be finished with treatments, but not with doctors. I have tests to do in Mid-March and regular checkups thereafter.
The good thing that happened: Talked to Clint on the phone for long while. As usual, he made me laugh.
It's January 2nd now and we go back to work tomorrow. I don't want to. Three days off is not enough. I have things to do and as always, not enough time. I suppose if I had more energy I'd be able to use my time better. Yet another frustration.
The weather was beautiful yesterday and the day before, but today, believe it or not, it was too hot. I'm painting two bedside tables out in the garage and I had to stop and get out of the heat. People are saying things like, "Nearly 80 degrees on January 2, can you believe it!" But, truthfully, everyone can. Or at least those who've grown up in Louisiana. Because here you may be bundled against the wind and cold on Christmas or New Years, or running around in shorts. Sometimes both in the same year. Neither is unusual. Last year (2004) when we went to New Orleans for Christmas we were stuck an extra day because it snowed and the roads were closed.
Physically, I've been getting better and stronger, but emotionally I had a little set back today. Maybe it came out as a stress releaser after the holidays. Maybe, this whole trip has gone on too long and it's getting harder for me to "keep my chin up."
I'm looking ahead to radiation treatment. This is supposed to cause more fatigue and the driving back and forth to Alexandria won't help. I wish I knew someone there to stay with during the week for the last couple of weeks. I'd take off from work. But that's not realistic anyway because the radiation doesn't really take long and there's no reason I can't work at least half days.
I know, cheer up! The end is in sight. By my birthday, March 2, I should be finished with treatments, but not with doctors. I have tests to do in Mid-March and regular checkups thereafter.
The good thing that happened: Talked to Clint on the phone for long while. As usual, he made me laugh.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Time - there just isn't enough of it. Especially at this time of year. And, as Mom, it's pretty much up to me to make Christmas happen. Fortunately my child is 17 and doesn't need or expect a lot of presents or anything like that. And Luke does help me shop. But if there's going to be any decorating or tree or similar signs of the season than I'm going to have to do it.
I'm trying to make flannel blankets for Jeremy and Jay. I found flannel fabric with soccer balls all over it. I'll get Luke to take a picture and post it when I'm finished. I have one mostly done and will start the other tonight. I had expected to have them done and wrapped this past weekend, but nothing is going the way I plan and time keeps running out. Maybe that's a sign...
Time to talk about the last oncologist visit. My blood work was good. No blood needed. Mary (the bad nurse) took the pic line out. They were right, it didn't hurt, but it was the creepiest feeling. She clipped the stitches and told me to take a deep breathe while she pulled it out. I could feel it moving from my heart and down my arm inside my vein!! Eww!
I upset the onc too. I'll try to explain, but I don't remember exactly what I said that started the exchange that got him upset. I know I used the past tense talking about my disease. This is out of context but, in the middle of a sentence I think I said, "I was high risk...."
He said, "Don't say 'was' you still are high risk. Just because the cancer appears to be gone..."
At this point,frustrated, I turned to Luke and said, "He's just not going to be optimistic at all. He's not going to give me an ounce of hope!"
I might as well have slapped him. He stepped back and said, "No, no, I'm very optimistic! I believe the glass is half full! You should be optimistic! But you must remember the glass is half empty too. It can't be one but not the other so you need to be cautiously optimistic."
I said, "Is that like compassionately conservative?"
Poor man was flustered. I don't think he realized how negative he is sometimes. I know he has to warn me that it can come back and what to look for, but his bedside manner is terrible.
Time for work. Never enough time!!
I'm trying to make flannel blankets for Jeremy and Jay. I found flannel fabric with soccer balls all over it. I'll get Luke to take a picture and post it when I'm finished. I have one mostly done and will start the other tonight. I had expected to have them done and wrapped this past weekend, but nothing is going the way I plan and time keeps running out. Maybe that's a sign...
Time to talk about the last oncologist visit. My blood work was good. No blood needed. Mary (the bad nurse) took the pic line out. They were right, it didn't hurt, but it was the creepiest feeling. She clipped the stitches and told me to take a deep breathe while she pulled it out. I could feel it moving from my heart and down my arm inside my vein!! Eww!
I upset the onc too. I'll try to explain, but I don't remember exactly what I said that started the exchange that got him upset. I know I used the past tense talking about my disease. This is out of context but, in the middle of a sentence I think I said, "I was high risk...."
He said, "Don't say 'was' you still are high risk. Just because the cancer appears to be gone..."
At this point,frustrated, I turned to Luke and said, "He's just not going to be optimistic at all. He's not going to give me an ounce of hope!"
I might as well have slapped him. He stepped back and said, "No, no, I'm very optimistic! I believe the glass is half full! You should be optimistic! But you must remember the glass is half empty too. It can't be one but not the other so you need to be cautiously optimistic."
I said, "Is that like compassionately conservative?"
Poor man was flustered. I don't think he realized how negative he is sometimes. I know he has to warn me that it can come back and what to look for, but his bedside manner is terrible.
Time for work. Never enough time!!
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Sunday, December 11, 2005
short take
I had my 10 day checkup and my bloodwork was all good. Other than that, we're building up to X-Mas so it's been the X-Mas Festival, work and shopping and decorating for the season. This is why I haven't been logging on. Just wanted to check in and say I'm still alive and going stronger and intend to catch up on what's been happening soon. Until then, hope you all are doing well and email me and let me know what you're up to. I do manage to respond to email sometimes, even when I get way behind on blogging.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
The Last of Chemo
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.
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 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
Monday, October 31, 2005
Nine Down and One to Go
I went to chemo with the holiday spirit donning my pirate/gypsy costume (it was questionable). Got a few laughs. Had the picc line put in first. The actual procedure didn't take too long. Once they brought me in. The technician said the hold up was waiting for the nurses to do the paper work. I can believe it because Luke and I were waiting close enough to hear them discuss a fundraiser raffle for some time and various other non-work related topics when they were supposed to be entering my info in the computer. Finally the tech came and asked if the paper work was done and said he was taking me anyway.
The procedure is done under a local anesthetic using the ultrasound machine to guide the catheter through my vein and up into my heart. Now I'll have a tube coming out of my arm for the next three weeks. But that's not so long. I have to go back each Monday so they can flush it out and make sure I don't get any clots.
Then we saw the onc. My labs were much better. He said not to be surprised if I needed to have another blood transfusion as this chemo seems to make me really anemic. He doesn't want to stop, though, because I have "such advanced cancer."
When I went for the chemo it all went well with the picc line. I met a woman there from Harvey who was displaced by Katrina. She has ovarian cancer and has really had the problems with chemo. Starting with 9 months of chemo treatment only to learn that not only was her cancer not responding to the treatment, but she actually had a new tumor grow in her spleen. All this while she had a lot of nausea and allergic reactions to the treatment. I felt way ahead of the game after talking to her.
Only time will tell how it'll go this time. Maybe it won't be so bad. I asked the onc before if there was something I should be eating or doing (besides the aranasp shot) to deal with the anemia. He said, no not really.
With my costume today I wore three special things around my neck. One was a "pearl" necklace that was my mother's. She died when I was 16 so it was sort of a plea to my ancestors to help me out and give me strength. The second was a St. Peregrine Medal, the patron saint of cancer patients. This was a gift from a friend. And the last was a medicine bag with three pebbles in it with the words, "peace," "love" and "believe" written on them. This was a gift from my sister, Sharon. It was a kind of pay it forward thing as it was originally a gift from her friend in New Mexico to her when she was going through a bad time. When she got it there were only two pebbles, but she added the "believe" one when she gave it to me.
I was ready for Trick-or-Treaters tonight and wouldn't you know after many weeks of no rain the sky opened up with hard rain and lightening and thunder. I don't know what to do with this candy!
The procedure is done under a local anesthetic using the ultrasound machine to guide the catheter through my vein and up into my heart. Now I'll have a tube coming out of my arm for the next three weeks. But that's not so long. I have to go back each Monday so they can flush it out and make sure I don't get any clots.
Then we saw the onc. My labs were much better. He said not to be surprised if I needed to have another blood transfusion as this chemo seems to make me really anemic. He doesn't want to stop, though, because I have "such advanced cancer."
When I went for the chemo it all went well with the picc line. I met a woman there from Harvey who was displaced by Katrina. She has ovarian cancer and has really had the problems with chemo. Starting with 9 months of chemo treatment only to learn that not only was her cancer not responding to the treatment, but she actually had a new tumor grow in her spleen. All this while she had a lot of nausea and allergic reactions to the treatment. I felt way ahead of the game after talking to her.
Only time will tell how it'll go this time. Maybe it won't be so bad. I asked the onc before if there was something I should be eating or doing (besides the aranasp shot) to deal with the anemia. He said, no not really.
With my costume today I wore three special things around my neck. One was a "pearl" necklace that was my mother's. She died when I was 16 so it was sort of a plea to my ancestors to help me out and give me strength. The second was a St. Peregrine Medal, the patron saint of cancer patients. This was a gift from a friend. And the last was a medicine bag with three pebbles in it with the words, "peace," "love" and "believe" written on them. This was a gift from my sister, Sharon. It was a kind of pay it forward thing as it was originally a gift from her friend in New Mexico to her when she was going through a bad time. When she got it there were only two pebbles, but she added the "believe" one when she gave it to me.
I was ready for Trick-or-Treaters tonight and wouldn't you know after many weeks of no rain the sky opened up with hard rain and lightening and thunder. I don't know what to do with this candy!
Pirate Dreams
Happy Halloween!! My favorite holiday.
On my way to chemo 9 dressed as a pirate. Hope to at least get a laugh from the nurses. I wish I had a theme song for the day, but none comes to mind just yet.
"Everything is gonna be alright" - that's part of a song, isn't it? Can't quite grab onto it but I'll think of it later.
Gotta go.
On my way to chemo 9 dressed as a pirate. Hope to at least get a laugh from the nurses. I wish I had a theme song for the day, but none comes to mind just yet.
"Everything is gonna be alright" - that's part of a song, isn't it? Can't quite grab onto it but I'll think of it later.
Gotta go.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Feeling Better, Just in Time
I'm better now. My arm is still somewhat numb, but it doesn't hurt too much. I still get tired easily, but am willing to have a little fun and am managing to squeeze out a joke or two around the house.
Chemo tomorrow. It's also Halloween. I'm thinking I might dress up as a pirate to go to chemo. I'll have to go to x-ray first for them to put in the pick line I'll have for this chemo and the next. Something else to live with for the next three weeks. But as a pirate I could add a little levity, at least while I'm awake. I fall asleep after they give me the benadryl.
I don't know if I mentioned when my right hand swelled (an after effect of the surgery). I had a big hand and small hand for a while (they've evened out some). Incidentally, the right boob is at least a cup size or two smaller than the other. I guess the big hand balanced out the small boob on my right side. Now that the hand has shrunk I'm off balance. I have to find out where to get an insert for my bra so I don't look so lopsided.
Only two chemos left. I can do this! I just hope there're no more surprises.
Chemo tomorrow. It's also Halloween. I'm thinking I might dress up as a pirate to go to chemo. I'll have to go to x-ray first for them to put in the pick line I'll have for this chemo and the next. Something else to live with for the next three weeks. But as a pirate I could add a little levity, at least while I'm awake. I fall asleep after they give me the benadryl.
I don't know if I mentioned when my right hand swelled (an after effect of the surgery). I had a big hand and small hand for a while (they've evened out some). Incidentally, the right boob is at least a cup size or two smaller than the other. I guess the big hand balanced out the small boob on my right side. Now that the hand has shrunk I'm off balance. I have to find out where to get an insert for my bra so I don't look so lopsided.
Only two chemos left. I can do this! I just hope there're no more surprises.
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