This is only temporary. I had to keep reminding myself of that today. This is not my new normal. This is only a temporary normal. I wanted to get up and go and have "normal" Saturday full of playing, errands, and other random things, and my body was just not up for that today. That is ok. I have to take this time for me, and I have to be honest with myself about how I feel.
Type A Nancy is going to have to take a little break, and we're going to have to welcome a more laid-back and calm Nancy who is ok with taking things a little bit easier.
I took my anti-nausea medicine this morning and realized that the side effects (dizziness, tiredness) from the medicine were not worth the relief for the first time so I didn't take another dose during the day and was fine. That is a good sign. I didn't have much energy during the day though so there was a lot of sitting around, napping, and movie-watching with Henry. It was a nice lazy Saturday.
We did go out for lunch, and I ate half of a hamburger (go me)! It felt good to get out of the house for a little while. Henry had a babysitter tonight so that Mike and I could go see a friend perform in a musical. We've had these plans long before cancer came into the picture (well long before we knew about it) and wanted to keep the plans. Our friend has an amazing voice and is a wonderfully talented singer and actor, and it was great to see him on stage. We even made it to dinner with them and a few other couples after. I probably stayed up way too late, but it was worth it.
Right before we left to go out tonight, Henry looked at me and said "Mom, you look gorgeous." That kid. He really does melt my heart. I know that I am biased, of course I am, but he really has a heart of gold and is so adorable on top of it. Complete package, that kid. I am lucky to be his mom.
Saturday, February 28, 2015
Friday, February 27, 2015
Day 23 - More Human
I woke up feeling more human this morning than I did yesterday or Wednesday. That makes me so happy. Mind you, I still took my anti-nausea medicine (afraid not to), but I maybe could have gone without it. I had two pieces of toast for breakfast instead of one so that is a good sign.
Chemo has left a bad taste in my mouth, both literally and figuratively, so I have been leaning heavily on hard candy to mask the taste and to also help soothe my stomach. I've got quite a variety and have more being delivered by Amazon.com today.
I've always had an affinity for hard candy, and I think that I can link it back to my Nena (my mom's mom). Nena always had tins of fancy hard candy from the nicest grocery store in town in her purse, and she was also an Altoids early adopter. She had Altoids long before they became mainstream, and she was always willing to share, sometimes at inopportune times.
When I was little, going to church on Sunday mornings was not optional. It's what we did. On the weekends when we were with my dad, our Grandmother would take us to church. On the weekends when we were with my mom/Glen, they would take us to church, and we would sit in the pew with my Nena and Papa. It was always the same pew, ensured by my Papa's early arrival to church each Sunday. He always sang the loudest during church even if he flubbed a word or two on occasion. He wanted this presence KNOWN, and he had a wonderfully deep singing voice. I miss that sound.
Almost unfailing, when the church service got really quiet each week, it was time for an Altoid. My Nena would get the tin out of her purse, give one to Papa, take one for herself, and pass the rattling tin down the church pew so that the rest of us could have minty fresh breath for the remainder of the service. It was so loud, so disruptive, and so entirely endearing. I am tempted to tell that story every time I pull a tin of Altoids out of my own purse but stop myself because so many have already heard it. It's funny how small things can trigger such fond memories.
So like my Nena, I am armed with hard candy and mints, and I'll be happy to share at any time.
Mike played golf this afternoon, and I picked Henry up from school. So much normal happening right there. It was great. I do find that it helps to get out and get some fresh air. It's distracting and feels good.
I also totally ruled in Jeopardy tonight. I would have made thousands had I actually been on the show. I'm still working on Wheel of Fortune, but I think that doing well on Jeopardy is better than doing well on Wheel. I am also a little bit sad that everyone reading this knows how pitiful my Friday night has been. Don't pity me for having cancer, but you can certainly pity me for watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune on a Friday night.
Chemo has left a bad taste in my mouth, both literally and figuratively, so I have been leaning heavily on hard candy to mask the taste and to also help soothe my stomach. I've got quite a variety and have more being delivered by Amazon.com today.
I've always had an affinity for hard candy, and I think that I can link it back to my Nena (my mom's mom). Nena always had tins of fancy hard candy from the nicest grocery store in town in her purse, and she was also an Altoids early adopter. She had Altoids long before they became mainstream, and she was always willing to share, sometimes at inopportune times.
When I was little, going to church on Sunday mornings was not optional. It's what we did. On the weekends when we were with my dad, our Grandmother would take us to church. On the weekends when we were with my mom/Glen, they would take us to church, and we would sit in the pew with my Nena and Papa. It was always the same pew, ensured by my Papa's early arrival to church each Sunday. He always sang the loudest during church even if he flubbed a word or two on occasion. He wanted this presence KNOWN, and he had a wonderfully deep singing voice. I miss that sound.
Almost unfailing, when the church service got really quiet each week, it was time for an Altoid. My Nena would get the tin out of her purse, give one to Papa, take one for herself, and pass the rattling tin down the church pew so that the rest of us could have minty fresh breath for the remainder of the service. It was so loud, so disruptive, and so entirely endearing. I am tempted to tell that story every time I pull a tin of Altoids out of my own purse but stop myself because so many have already heard it. It's funny how small things can trigger such fond memories.
So like my Nena, I am armed with hard candy and mints, and I'll be happy to share at any time.
Mike played golf this afternoon, and I picked Henry up from school. So much normal happening right there. It was great. I do find that it helps to get out and get some fresh air. It's distracting and feels good.
I also totally ruled in Jeopardy tonight. I would have made thousands had I actually been on the show. I'm still working on Wheel of Fortune, but I think that doing well on Jeopardy is better than doing well on Wheel. I am also a little bit sad that everyone reading this knows how pitiful my Friday night has been. Don't pity me for having cancer, but you can certainly pity me for watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune on a Friday night.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Day 22 - Chop Chop
I got my hair cut today so that it is not as dramatic when it does start to fall out. The cut is nice and short and very cute. I am a little bit sad that it won't last very long. We also thinned out my hair a lot to help cope with when it starts to come out and to make sure that I didn't have a giant poof on top of my head.
We'll see if I can style my new do when the time comes. Doubtful, but I've got a flat iron and a lot of goop for my hair so there is a chance. I will see my friend/hair stylist on Saturday night so he can critique as necessary, and he said that he will absolutely critique.
It's so hard to believe that Day 1 was only 3 weeks ago. It seems like so much has happened during that time...probably because SO much has happened during that time.
My stomach was still a bit off today, but I am hopeful that I am nearing the end of that for this cycle of chemo. I was able to eat more today than yesterday which is a good sign. At least, I will know what to expect moving forward with the next 3 AC treatments so that I can take my anti-nausea meds earlier to try to stay on top of things. "They" say that nausea is not as bad with Taxol, which I will have for my last 4 treatments.
The nausea did seem to lessen as the day went on. Mike and I even split a milkshake after I had some soup for dinner. A milkshake! I can't remember the last time I had a milkshake. Sounds so indulgent. It was, and it was so delicious.
My largest work event is two months away, and I am grateful to have something to keep me busy. There is a lot to be done over the next two months, and I feel very fortunate that I can direct a lot of my focus and attention to that right now. It helps to have something to distract me from everything else that is going on. It will be surreal and kind of sad for me to not actually be at the event in April, but I just don't see how that is even possible. No way can I work the demanding hours that happen during events while I am in the middle of chemo. That does not even take germ exposure into consideration, which will be important to keep in mind during parts of each chemo cycle.
Apparently on days 6-12 of each chemo cycle, my immune system will be at its lowest. I don't have to be housebound during those days, but I do have to be careful about where I go and what kind of germs I am around. Getting sick during chemo could be very serious so I have to be more careful about germs.
I think that I am experiencing some mild side effects from the Neulasta shot. Just a bit achey, but nothing too bad. I think that the Claritin that I am taking is helping with that. Half of the time, I don't know what is causing what in my body.
Henry and I played trucks tonight after he got home from school, and we snuggled on the couch and watched Planes Fire & Rescue. When I asked him what he thought of my hair, he said "it looks pretty nice." I don't think that losing my hair will really affect him. Maybe he will think that my bald head "looks pretty nice."
I read books and tucked him into bed tonight, and he was sure to pick out some of my favorite books - Snowman Christmas and Goodnight Mr. Night for me to read to him. He is just so sweet.
We'll see if I can style my new do when the time comes. Doubtful, but I've got a flat iron and a lot of goop for my hair so there is a chance. I will see my friend/hair stylist on Saturday night so he can critique as necessary, and he said that he will absolutely critique.
It's so hard to believe that Day 1 was only 3 weeks ago. It seems like so much has happened during that time...probably because SO much has happened during that time.
My stomach was still a bit off today, but I am hopeful that I am nearing the end of that for this cycle of chemo. I was able to eat more today than yesterday which is a good sign. At least, I will know what to expect moving forward with the next 3 AC treatments so that I can take my anti-nausea meds earlier to try to stay on top of things. "They" say that nausea is not as bad with Taxol, which I will have for my last 4 treatments.
The nausea did seem to lessen as the day went on. Mike and I even split a milkshake after I had some soup for dinner. A milkshake! I can't remember the last time I had a milkshake. Sounds so indulgent. It was, and it was so delicious.
My largest work event is two months away, and I am grateful to have something to keep me busy. There is a lot to be done over the next two months, and I feel very fortunate that I can direct a lot of my focus and attention to that right now. It helps to have something to distract me from everything else that is going on. It will be surreal and kind of sad for me to not actually be at the event in April, but I just don't see how that is even possible. No way can I work the demanding hours that happen during events while I am in the middle of chemo. That does not even take germ exposure into consideration, which will be important to keep in mind during parts of each chemo cycle.
Apparently on days 6-12 of each chemo cycle, my immune system will be at its lowest. I don't have to be housebound during those days, but I do have to be careful about where I go and what kind of germs I am around. Getting sick during chemo could be very serious so I have to be more careful about germs.
I think that I am experiencing some mild side effects from the Neulasta shot. Just a bit achey, but nothing too bad. I think that the Claritin that I am taking is helping with that. Half of the time, I don't know what is causing what in my body.
Henry and I played trucks tonight after he got home from school, and we snuggled on the couch and watched Planes Fire & Rescue. When I asked him what he thought of my hair, he said "it looks pretty nice." I don't think that losing my hair will really affect him. Maybe he will think that my bald head "looks pretty nice."
I read books and tucked him into bed tonight, and he was sure to pick out some of my favorite books - Snowman Christmas and Goodnight Mr. Night for me to read to him. He is just so sweet.
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Day 21 - A Bit Barfy
A friend of mine coined the term, barfy. It is a very high-tech science-based term that means one's stomach is just not quite right but he/she is not necessarily barfing. I anticipate that it will be in the newest edition of Webster's Dictionary. To use it in a sentence, "I feel a little bit barfy."
When I went to bed last night (after I finished yesterday's post), I started to feel a bit more nauseous than I had all day. I took some of the medicine that I have and went to bed to sleep it off. I slept ok, but I did feel like I had a big brick in my stomach all night. I think that it partially has to do with the fact that I ate too much lunch yesterday afternoon. I didn't eat any more than pre-chemo Nancy would have eaten, but it seems as though small light meals are going to be the key here.
Also, thank goodness for anti-nausea medicine. I will take it as necessary. No hero here!
Still had the same barfy feeling this morning, but it was not too terrible. I was able to drink a cup of coffee so I know that things aren't too off. Thank goodness for ginger ale and crackers. As much as I would like to be eating fruits, veggies and meats right now, I don't think that is in the cards for the time being. As I progress through treatment, I will probably be able to pinpoint when the side effects will hit me the worst.
When I was setting up chemo treatments with my oncologist, I asked for him to schedule me for a day during the week that would allow me to "feel the least amount of bad" for the weekend so that I can have better quality time with Henry and Mike. He smiled and said "Tuesday it is." So I am optimistic that my stomach will chill over the next few days. The nurses even said that the nausea should not last more than 3 days.
I looked out of my office window during the day today and saw a bright red cardinal. Cardinals can stand for the hope, love, cheer, pride, focus, energy, and renewal, among many other things. Fitting on a day like today. Maybe I am reading too far into symbols and signs, but I don't think that I am.
Went to the doctor to get a Neulasta shot. The injection should help my body regenerate white blood cells between chemo treatments. Apparently bone aches and pains can be a side effect, but OTC Claritin can help with that so I will add Claritin to the pill regimen.
My face was really red and flushed all day, which lead me to take my temperature several times. No fever, just rosy red cheeks I suppose. I was also pretty tired today, especially in the afternoon. I had to stand up from my desk chair several times just to keep from putting my head down and falling asleep.
I should be doctor free until Tuesday, March 10. Fingers crossed (I hate when people say that).
The Great Hair Loss of 2015 should be underway within the next two weeks. I am still not sure how I will feel about that. Probably sad, but it is going to happen, and I am going to have to deal with it. It's only hair. My main issue with losing my hair is that I just don't want people to look at me and feel sorry for me. Don't pity me. Someone said to me "People don't pay attention to anyone but themselves so no one will even notice." Maybe that is true, but I think that people will notice even if I have a hat on. Who knows, my bald head will help inspire someone who has been or is going through a similar journey.
I saw someone in my general age bracket for the first time when I went to the oncologist's office for my shot today. She looked to be in her 30s and was smiling and knitting while waiting for her chemo treatment. She was very beautiful, very bald, and looked very peaceful while going through whatever she was facing. She does not realize this, but she inspired me today.
I was pretty worthless tonight, I'll admit. Thank goodness for Mike. He has really been so wonderful during this whole process..of course he has, but I would be remiss if I didn't mention it every once in a while. This journey has already brought us closer together and has given us new time to spend together that we would not have otherwise had. We've also kept things as light as possible around here and during appointments which really makes a huge difference. I love to laugh and joke around, and he makes me laugh every day. Bright side.
When I went to bed last night (after I finished yesterday's post), I started to feel a bit more nauseous than I had all day. I took some of the medicine that I have and went to bed to sleep it off. I slept ok, but I did feel like I had a big brick in my stomach all night. I think that it partially has to do with the fact that I ate too much lunch yesterday afternoon. I didn't eat any more than pre-chemo Nancy would have eaten, but it seems as though small light meals are going to be the key here.
Also, thank goodness for anti-nausea medicine. I will take it as necessary. No hero here!
Still had the same barfy feeling this morning, but it was not too terrible. I was able to drink a cup of coffee so I know that things aren't too off. Thank goodness for ginger ale and crackers. As much as I would like to be eating fruits, veggies and meats right now, I don't think that is in the cards for the time being. As I progress through treatment, I will probably be able to pinpoint when the side effects will hit me the worst.
When I was setting up chemo treatments with my oncologist, I asked for him to schedule me for a day during the week that would allow me to "feel the least amount of bad" for the weekend so that I can have better quality time with Henry and Mike. He smiled and said "Tuesday it is." So I am optimistic that my stomach will chill over the next few days. The nurses even said that the nausea should not last more than 3 days.
I looked out of my office window during the day today and saw a bright red cardinal. Cardinals can stand for the hope, love, cheer, pride, focus, energy, and renewal, among many other things. Fitting on a day like today. Maybe I am reading too far into symbols and signs, but I don't think that I am.
Went to the doctor to get a Neulasta shot. The injection should help my body regenerate white blood cells between chemo treatments. Apparently bone aches and pains can be a side effect, but OTC Claritin can help with that so I will add Claritin to the pill regimen.
My face was really red and flushed all day, which lead me to take my temperature several times. No fever, just rosy red cheeks I suppose. I was also pretty tired today, especially in the afternoon. I had to stand up from my desk chair several times just to keep from putting my head down and falling asleep.
I should be doctor free until Tuesday, March 10. Fingers crossed (I hate when people say that).
The Great Hair Loss of 2015 should be underway within the next two weeks. I am still not sure how I will feel about that. Probably sad, but it is going to happen, and I am going to have to deal with it. It's only hair. My main issue with losing my hair is that I just don't want people to look at me and feel sorry for me. Don't pity me. Someone said to me "People don't pay attention to anyone but themselves so no one will even notice." Maybe that is true, but I think that people will notice even if I have a hat on. Who knows, my bald head will help inspire someone who has been or is going through a similar journey.
I saw someone in my general age bracket for the first time when I went to the oncologist's office for my shot today. She looked to be in her 30s and was smiling and knitting while waiting for her chemo treatment. She was very beautiful, very bald, and looked very peaceful while going through whatever she was facing. She does not realize this, but she inspired me today.
I was pretty worthless tonight, I'll admit. Thank goodness for Mike. He has really been so wonderful during this whole process..of course he has, but I would be remiss if I didn't mention it every once in a while. This journey has already brought us closer together and has given us new time to spend together that we would not have otherwise had. We've also kept things as light as possible around here and during appointments which really makes a huge difference. I love to laugh and joke around, and he makes me laugh every day. Bright side.
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Day 20 - Drip
I celebrated a milestone today that I never thought I would celebrate - my first chemotherapy treatment. I do think that "celebrate" is the right word to use here because today marked the first real step in a very important direction (though I don't mitigate the importance of everything leading up to this point). My goal is to get this cancer out of my body and to move on with my life, and chemotherapy is going to be a pretty big component (maybe the biggest) of achieving that goal.
I was nervous this morning, which is common for me when facing something new, and this is certainly all still very new. I was nervous, but I was also ready. I had been building up to this day for almost 3 weeks, and it was time to go. I gave Henry a million hugs and kisses, and we bid him and his babysitter farewell.
Once I arrived at the cancer center, we waited (waiting is going to be a very common theme here), I had blood drawn, the took my vitals, then we waited to see the doctor (more waiting). Dr. Keogh came in, gave me a great pep talk, measured the tumor (with a small tape measure...yeah), and sent me on my way to the infusion room. When I told the doctor that I was nervous, he said "I understand that, but I've got 70-year old women on the same treatment regimen as you. You can certainly do this." I like it. Not exactly tough love, but also showing me that others who may not be as physically strong as me have endured the same treatment. He was extremely positive and optimistic about the effectiveness of the treatment.
In the infusion room, we waited a little bit longer then the nurse came over to get things rolling. She was cleaning the skin over my port and asked "will this be the first time accessing your port?" Such personal questions. Yes, it was, and I was freaked out by it. I just had the thing put in last week, and it is still bruised and very tender. She sprayed it with some cold spray to numb it some, and in went the needle which was attached to various IV tubing for the different medicines I would be receiving. I didn't look, but I bet the needle was not terribly small. I felt some pressure when she put the needle in, but not pain necessarily.
The drip started off with some anti-nausea meds and a steroid for about 30 minutes. Mike and I both got our laptops set up, and I got out my notebook and pens (I like to have options), and we started to work. After the "pre-meds" were in, the nurse walked over with a giant syringe full of bright red liquid, commonly referred to as "the red devil" in the cancer biz. Bright red. She attached the syringe to a tube and started to slowly push that through my port over the course of 15 min or so. Wow. This was really and truly happening. For the grand finale, after all of the red medicine was in, I was given a drip of the last chemo. It was a small bag and took 30 min from start to finish.
When all was said and done, I was in the chair in the infusion room for about an hour and a half. Not too bad. I thought it was going to take much longer.
My mind raced when the chemo meds started, but I didn't really feel anything different. The red medicine was really cold so it gave me a little bit of a chill, but warm blankets and a jacket solved that problem. A lot of wonderfully caring people have asked me how I am doing today, and I am fine. Something feels different, but I can't pinpoint exactly what it is. I didn't feel badly during the day, just different. That could also be completely psychosomatic.
The side effects from the chemo will build over time as it gets into my system so I will take the "different" and enjoy it until something else comes along. I am tired and will be going to bed early tonight. Tired is understandable!
After chemo, we went to the grocery store, and I parked on the couch in front of a fire to finish the work day. I figured that I could allow myself to be warmer and more comfortable than I am in my home office.
I will also say that my support team came on particularly strong last night and today. Strong! Calls, texts, emails, Facebook posts, flowers, a video message, a "Treatment Tuesday" workout specifically dedicated to me. You name it, I got it. I know that I have said it before, but I will say it again (and probably again), my loved ones have absolutely no idea how meaningful that all is to me. I've cried more happy tears from being so overwhelmed with good emotions than sad during this whole process. I will never forget all of the support and love that I have received.
Bottom line - 1 chemo treatment in the books. 7 more to go. Next one will happen on March 10.
I was nervous this morning, which is common for me when facing something new, and this is certainly all still very new. I was nervous, but I was also ready. I had been building up to this day for almost 3 weeks, and it was time to go. I gave Henry a million hugs and kisses, and we bid him and his babysitter farewell.
Once I arrived at the cancer center, we waited (waiting is going to be a very common theme here), I had blood drawn, the took my vitals, then we waited to see the doctor (more waiting). Dr. Keogh came in, gave me a great pep talk, measured the tumor (with a small tape measure...yeah), and sent me on my way to the infusion room. When I told the doctor that I was nervous, he said "I understand that, but I've got 70-year old women on the same treatment regimen as you. You can certainly do this." I like it. Not exactly tough love, but also showing me that others who may not be as physically strong as me have endured the same treatment. He was extremely positive and optimistic about the effectiveness of the treatment.
In the infusion room, we waited a little bit longer then the nurse came over to get things rolling. She was cleaning the skin over my port and asked "will this be the first time accessing your port?" Such personal questions. Yes, it was, and I was freaked out by it. I just had the thing put in last week, and it is still bruised and very tender. She sprayed it with some cold spray to numb it some, and in went the needle which was attached to various IV tubing for the different medicines I would be receiving. I didn't look, but I bet the needle was not terribly small. I felt some pressure when she put the needle in, but not pain necessarily.
The drip started off with some anti-nausea meds and a steroid for about 30 minutes. Mike and I both got our laptops set up, and I got out my notebook and pens (I like to have options), and we started to work. After the "pre-meds" were in, the nurse walked over with a giant syringe full of bright red liquid, commonly referred to as "the red devil" in the cancer biz. Bright red. She attached the syringe to a tube and started to slowly push that through my port over the course of 15 min or so. Wow. This was really and truly happening. For the grand finale, after all of the red medicine was in, I was given a drip of the last chemo. It was a small bag and took 30 min from start to finish.
When all was said and done, I was in the chair in the infusion room for about an hour and a half. Not too bad. I thought it was going to take much longer.
My mind raced when the chemo meds started, but I didn't really feel anything different. The red medicine was really cold so it gave me a little bit of a chill, but warm blankets and a jacket solved that problem. A lot of wonderfully caring people have asked me how I am doing today, and I am fine. Something feels different, but I can't pinpoint exactly what it is. I didn't feel badly during the day, just different. That could also be completely psychosomatic.
The side effects from the chemo will build over time as it gets into my system so I will take the "different" and enjoy it until something else comes along. I am tired and will be going to bed early tonight. Tired is understandable!
After chemo, we went to the grocery store, and I parked on the couch in front of a fire to finish the work day. I figured that I could allow myself to be warmer and more comfortable than I am in my home office.
I will also say that my support team came on particularly strong last night and today. Strong! Calls, texts, emails, Facebook posts, flowers, a video message, a "Treatment Tuesday" workout specifically dedicated to me. You name it, I got it. I know that I have said it before, but I will say it again (and probably again), my loved ones have absolutely no idea how meaningful that all is to me. I've cried more happy tears from being so overwhelmed with good emotions than sad during this whole process. I will never forget all of the support and love that I have received.
Bottom line - 1 chemo treatment in the books. 7 more to go. Next one will happen on March 10.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Day 19 - The Babysitter
I woke up around 6:15 this morning to the whir of of our pre-programmed coffee grinder, which is a wonderful way to wake up. As soon as I heard the beep signaling a fresh pot of hot coffee was ready, I headed downstairs for a cup and a scan of Facebook before anyone else woke up (I love the quiet in the mornings). Sitting on the couch, scrolling through my newsfeed, I saw the following from our local newspaper: Winter weather advisory for Monday night into Tuesday morning.
Knowing Charleston as I do, school closures (and, in turn, preschool closures) were on the horizon. I texted our responsible neighborhood teenager to lock in a contingency plan and to hopefully call dibs before anyone else had the same thought. I think that I said "if for some crazy reason schools are closed, can you please babysit. I have my first chemo treatment tomorrow morning." She responded almost immediately with a "yes, if there is no school, I will be there."
Also called the oncologist office, "what is your policy for weather-related closures." The receptionist said that they were open last year during the Great Freakout of 2014 when all bridges in Charleston were closed due to "ice" so she saw no reason why they would not be open tomorrow. Ok. Great. Plan in place (I am a planner, you know).
Day goes on, and I am on a call at 2:30pm trying to figure out some insurance information with my company's benefits consultant, and Mike opens my office door holding a note "Schools are already closed for tomorrow." I just smiled and laughed to myself. Here's the thing, the temperature is not going to dip below freezing at any point between today and tomorrow. Yes, I know that bridges ice before roads, but temperature is a pretty key factor in any kind of ice situation.
So, we have a babysitter for my first chemo treatment. How's that for a twist? Had aforementioned responsible teenager not been available, we would have worked neighbors and friends for a potential drop off, but this works out well. Henry will be waiting for us at home after we get back from my first treatment. I will love getting a hug from him as soon as I walk in the door.
As a friend said to me recently, "cancer is one more thing to add to your plate. You are already a mom, wife, sister, daughter, worker, friend." I am also a master at logistics and contingency plans. Forgive the ego, but I can recognize a strength.
Made it to the gym tonight. I could not row or do any upper body weights, but it felt so good to go. I am partially recovered from my surgery but am under strict orders to not even think about rowing or doing any upper body work for a little while longer. That's ok. My upper body is getting enough attention as it is...way more than I ever wished upon it. My legs are going to be sore though. While others were doing upper body work, I was doing leg work. Ouch.
I have reconnected with some old friends lately, and it feels so good to have them back in my life. As I said to one, I am sorry that cancer has brought us back together, but I am glad that we are back in touch. A bright side to this disease if there ever was one.
I am a bundle of nerves about tomorrow. Fear of the unknown I think. Will it feel strange to have bright red (one of the meds) toxic chemicals coursing through my veins? Will I immediately feel different? I am sure that I won't, but the question remains until I am there tomorrow. Though I am nervous, I am ready. Ready for this medicine to start killing the cancer cells in my body. Ready to move through the plan and work my way to the other side of this nightmare.
Part of a work email that I received from someone outside of my organization today said "I hope that your 2015 is off to a great start!!" I can laugh at the irony of that well-meaning email. My 2015 is off to a start, but I wouldn't necessarily use the word "great" to describe it. It's been an interesting year so far, and one that we will look back on one day and remember as a life-changing year.
Knowing Charleston as I do, school closures (and, in turn, preschool closures) were on the horizon. I texted our responsible neighborhood teenager to lock in a contingency plan and to hopefully call dibs before anyone else had the same thought. I think that I said "if for some crazy reason schools are closed, can you please babysit. I have my first chemo treatment tomorrow morning." She responded almost immediately with a "yes, if there is no school, I will be there."
Also called the oncologist office, "what is your policy for weather-related closures." The receptionist said that they were open last year during the Great Freakout of 2014 when all bridges in Charleston were closed due to "ice" so she saw no reason why they would not be open tomorrow. Ok. Great. Plan in place (I am a planner, you know).
Day goes on, and I am on a call at 2:30pm trying to figure out some insurance information with my company's benefits consultant, and Mike opens my office door holding a note "Schools are already closed for tomorrow." I just smiled and laughed to myself. Here's the thing, the temperature is not going to dip below freezing at any point between today and tomorrow. Yes, I know that bridges ice before roads, but temperature is a pretty key factor in any kind of ice situation.
So, we have a babysitter for my first chemo treatment. How's that for a twist? Had aforementioned responsible teenager not been available, we would have worked neighbors and friends for a potential drop off, but this works out well. Henry will be waiting for us at home after we get back from my first treatment. I will love getting a hug from him as soon as I walk in the door.
As a friend said to me recently, "cancer is one more thing to add to your plate. You are already a mom, wife, sister, daughter, worker, friend." I am also a master at logistics and contingency plans. Forgive the ego, but I can recognize a strength.
Made it to the gym tonight. I could not row or do any upper body weights, but it felt so good to go. I am partially recovered from my surgery but am under strict orders to not even think about rowing or doing any upper body work for a little while longer. That's ok. My upper body is getting enough attention as it is...way more than I ever wished upon it. My legs are going to be sore though. While others were doing upper body work, I was doing leg work. Ouch.
I have reconnected with some old friends lately, and it feels so good to have them back in my life. As I said to one, I am sorry that cancer has brought us back together, but I am glad that we are back in touch. A bright side to this disease if there ever was one.
I am a bundle of nerves about tomorrow. Fear of the unknown I think. Will it feel strange to have bright red (one of the meds) toxic chemicals coursing through my veins? Will I immediately feel different? I am sure that I won't, but the question remains until I am there tomorrow. Though I am nervous, I am ready. Ready for this medicine to start killing the cancer cells in my body. Ready to move through the plan and work my way to the other side of this nightmare.
Part of a work email that I received from someone outside of my organization today said "I hope that your 2015 is off to a great start!!" I can laugh at the irony of that well-meaning email. My 2015 is off to a start, but I wouldn't necessarily use the word "great" to describe it. It's been an interesting year so far, and one that we will look back on one day and remember as a life-changing year.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Day 18 - The Tiny Giraffe
One of my best friends stopped by today to visit. Her kids were being watched by their grandparents, and Henry and Mike were running errands. We had a few precious minutes of uninterrupted time to just talk, and it was so nice. Yes, we talked about cancer, but we also talked about bad TV, our families, and just general life stuff. It was so awesome to just have some time.
Mid-visit, she gave me a few gifts - a braided pink bracelet, some comfy jams, and another bracelet. She got one pink bracelet for me and one for her, and we will both wear them. Once this is all over, we will cut them off and celebrate. It is such a wonderful symbol, and I love that she is wearing one too. She also gave me a little bracelet that has a small silver giraffe (Henry's favorite) on it as well as a leaf with the letter "H." It is for motivation on even my hardest days. I was so touched by the gifts that I could not control my tears. They fell and fell. That has happened to me a lot lately. I just become so overwhelmed by someone else's thoughtfulness.
Another one of my best friends sent a care package for Henry (and, in turn, me). It is a box of small wrapped gifts that we can pull out on days when I don't feel like doing much and Henry needs some entertainment. The gifts range from arts and crafts projects to small toys to help us help Henry. I haven't opened any of them as that will be part of the allure for Henry, but I know how much thought and care was put into each of those little gifts. Life will be somewhat different for Henry, and she is helping make those changes better for him.
Over these past few weeks, all of my loved ones have been so generous with both their words, time, and symbols of strength and love. If I listed all of them, this post would go on for days and days. Each phone call, card, text, email, visit, gift that I get from my family and friends is a reminder of how much love and support I have from all across the world.
I don't use this word lightly because I think that it is overused, but I feel so blessed to have so much support and love in my life. Cancer has taught me so much already.
Today was blissfully normal. We took Jessup for a walk around the block and talked to some neighbors while we were out, and I took Henry to a birthday party this afternoon. A little girl at his school invited him to her 4th birthday party at Chuck E Cheese. On one hand, I am bummed that Henry knows that Chuck E Cheese exists, but on the other, it was so fun to watch him have a good time with his friends.
He and his friend from school (the birthday girl) were joined at the hip all during the party. They held hands and guided each other through the crowd with a hand on each other's back. It was very sweet amid the chaos of Chuck E Cheese.
I have no doc appointments tomorrow, and have no plans to even call a doctor's office. It will be a nice day of peace and focus entirely on work. I am so lucky to have a job that is fast-paced and busy because it helps to have the need for focus during the day.
Mid-visit, she gave me a few gifts - a braided pink bracelet, some comfy jams, and another bracelet. She got one pink bracelet for me and one for her, and we will both wear them. Once this is all over, we will cut them off and celebrate. It is such a wonderful symbol, and I love that she is wearing one too. She also gave me a little bracelet that has a small silver giraffe (Henry's favorite) on it as well as a leaf with the letter "H." It is for motivation on even my hardest days. I was so touched by the gifts that I could not control my tears. They fell and fell. That has happened to me a lot lately. I just become so overwhelmed by someone else's thoughtfulness.
Another one of my best friends sent a care package for Henry (and, in turn, me). It is a box of small wrapped gifts that we can pull out on days when I don't feel like doing much and Henry needs some entertainment. The gifts range from arts and crafts projects to small toys to help us help Henry. I haven't opened any of them as that will be part of the allure for Henry, but I know how much thought and care was put into each of those little gifts. Life will be somewhat different for Henry, and she is helping make those changes better for him.
Over these past few weeks, all of my loved ones have been so generous with both their words, time, and symbols of strength and love. If I listed all of them, this post would go on for days and days. Each phone call, card, text, email, visit, gift that I get from my family and friends is a reminder of how much love and support I have from all across the world.
I don't use this word lightly because I think that it is overused, but I feel so blessed to have so much support and love in my life. Cancer has taught me so much already.
Today was blissfully normal. We took Jessup for a walk around the block and talked to some neighbors while we were out, and I took Henry to a birthday party this afternoon. A little girl at his school invited him to her 4th birthday party at Chuck E Cheese. On one hand, I am bummed that Henry knows that Chuck E Cheese exists, but on the other, it was so fun to watch him have a good time with his friends.
He and his friend from school (the birthday girl) were joined at the hip all during the party. They held hands and guided each other through the crowd with a hand on each other's back. It was very sweet amid the chaos of Chuck E Cheese.
I have no doc appointments tomorrow, and have no plans to even call a doctor's office. It will be a nice day of peace and focus entirely on work. I am so lucky to have a job that is fast-paced and busy because it helps to have the need for focus during the day.
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Day 17 - Reflecting
I found myself very pensive today, and I couldn't really put my finger on why. Mike asked me if I was ok a bunch of times, and I was ok all day today. Just a bit lost in thought. I've been thinking about these past few weeks and have been thinking even more about all who have gone through this journey, both people that I know and people who I have never met. I wonder how cancer chooses its victims, and I wonder why it is more cruel to some than others.
I think about people who have heard the words "it's cancer" just like I did less than 3 weeks ago, and my heart aches for them because I now know how scared they all were on Day 1. Day 1 has been etched into my memory, and Day 1 has been has been etched into the collective memories of those who have heard those somber words. The words are like a bomb. They hit the main target then ripple outward to family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, and even strangers.
Most of my thoughts today have been about other people who have faced or are currently facing this disease, both those who are still with us and those who are not. I wish that I could go back to every one of them on their own personal Day 1 and tell each that I know. I know the impact of those words. I know how it feels to have the breath knocked out of you by some words. I know how thoughts immediately go to children, spouses, and other family members. I know how awful it is to say those words to other people.
I also know that there is a lot of hope, and I have been inspired by so many people who have faced cancer (both in the past few weeks and well before my diagnosis). Each person's experience with this is so highly individualized and personal. What works for me may not work for someone else, and what others have experienced may not happen to me at all. It is all part of the mystery of cancer. It's just so different for each person. With breast cancer alone, there are so many variables to consider.
I will attack this mightily (along with some darn powerful drugs) and will do whatever I have to do to get this OUT OF ME. I have a feeling that you won't find someone in my shoes who does not say the same thing. Let's gear up and attack.
Over the past few weeks, people have often said "I don't know what to say." That is ok. It is ok to not know what to say, and I hope that they never do know what to say. My advice is to offer support and maybe a hug. That is all it takes, and the support means so much. I have receive so much of that already.
I'd like to be able to apologize for the more serious tone of this post, but I won't. The old Nancy would have said "sorry for being so serious here." But I am not sorry. I am just writing about how I feel and about where my thoughts are on this particular day.
I am ok. Just reflecting.
PS: A few weaponry/fighting references in the above. Not usually my style, but they seem so right during this time.
I think about people who have heard the words "it's cancer" just like I did less than 3 weeks ago, and my heart aches for them because I now know how scared they all were on Day 1. Day 1 has been etched into my memory, and Day 1 has been has been etched into the collective memories of those who have heard those somber words. The words are like a bomb. They hit the main target then ripple outward to family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, and even strangers.
Most of my thoughts today have been about other people who have faced or are currently facing this disease, both those who are still with us and those who are not. I wish that I could go back to every one of them on their own personal Day 1 and tell each that I know. I know the impact of those words. I know how it feels to have the breath knocked out of you by some words. I know how thoughts immediately go to children, spouses, and other family members. I know how awful it is to say those words to other people.
I also know that there is a lot of hope, and I have been inspired by so many people who have faced cancer (both in the past few weeks and well before my diagnosis). Each person's experience with this is so highly individualized and personal. What works for me may not work for someone else, and what others have experienced may not happen to me at all. It is all part of the mystery of cancer. It's just so different for each person. With breast cancer alone, there are so many variables to consider.
I will attack this mightily (along with some darn powerful drugs) and will do whatever I have to do to get this OUT OF ME. I have a feeling that you won't find someone in my shoes who does not say the same thing. Let's gear up and attack.
Over the past few weeks, people have often said "I don't know what to say." That is ok. It is ok to not know what to say, and I hope that they never do know what to say. My advice is to offer support and maybe a hug. That is all it takes, and the support means so much. I have receive so much of that already.
I'd like to be able to apologize for the more serious tone of this post, but I won't. The old Nancy would have said "sorry for being so serious here." But I am not sorry. I am just writing about how I feel and about where my thoughts are on this particular day.
I am ok. Just reflecting.
PS: A few weaponry/fighting references in the above. Not usually my style, but they seem so right during this time.
Friday, February 20, 2015
Day 16 - Educated
Henry woke up a bit earlier than usual this morning so we let him climb into our bed for a little while. While he was snuggling/tossing and turning, he inched over really close to me and whispered "Mom, I love you." I love that little guy too. More than I can ever describe. Hearing those words from him was the perfect start to my day.
Mike and I both feel very well-educated about the first chemo regimen that I will have. I will start with a combination of two drugs that is commonly referred to as AC (and I will call it that because I will never spell the actual drug names properly). The nurse went through all potential side effects ranging from inconvenient to scary (but the scary ones are super rare), and I am glad that she painted the full picture for us. She did say that they will load me up with anti-nausea medicines both via IV before chemo and via pill to take home so I should be able to manage the nausea pretty well. She also gave me a huge list of other OTC meds to have on hand to deal with various symptoms. I've gone from someone who very rarely takes medicine to having an entire box full of various pills and potions in my laundry room.
If you need something, hit me up.
We'll talk about the other chemo regimen as we get closer to the time. Why overload ourselves at this point when I've got the 4 AC treatments to focus on first. I'll admit that I am a bit nervous about how I will feel on Tuesday morning. It's hard to say how I will react emotionally when I am actually in the chair getting hooked up to the medicine. The logical side of me says "this is what you have to do so you will do it, and it is how you are going to be better." The emotional side of me says "is this really happening? Am I really having chemotherapy?" I have a feeling that emotion will take center stage on Tuesday morning, but hopefully logic and reason don't step too far away.
I am healing nicely from Wednesday's surgery. I wasn't horrified when I took my bandages off this morning so I consider that to be an excellent sign. The bar is much lower than it once was.
I've got 3 full days of no medical appointments or tests and am going to take full advantage of them and enjoy a nice "normal" weekend with Mike and Henry.
Mike and I both feel very well-educated about the first chemo regimen that I will have. I will start with a combination of two drugs that is commonly referred to as AC (and I will call it that because I will never spell the actual drug names properly). The nurse went through all potential side effects ranging from inconvenient to scary (but the scary ones are super rare), and I am glad that she painted the full picture for us. She did say that they will load me up with anti-nausea medicines both via IV before chemo and via pill to take home so I should be able to manage the nausea pretty well. She also gave me a huge list of other OTC meds to have on hand to deal with various symptoms. I've gone from someone who very rarely takes medicine to having an entire box full of various pills and potions in my laundry room.
If you need something, hit me up.
We'll talk about the other chemo regimen as we get closer to the time. Why overload ourselves at this point when I've got the 4 AC treatments to focus on first. I'll admit that I am a bit nervous about how I will feel on Tuesday morning. It's hard to say how I will react emotionally when I am actually in the chair getting hooked up to the medicine. The logical side of me says "this is what you have to do so you will do it, and it is how you are going to be better." The emotional side of me says "is this really happening? Am I really having chemotherapy?" I have a feeling that emotion will take center stage on Tuesday morning, but hopefully logic and reason don't step too far away.
I am healing nicely from Wednesday's surgery. I wasn't horrified when I took my bandages off this morning so I consider that to be an excellent sign. The bar is much lower than it once was.
I've got 3 full days of no medical appointments or tests and am going to take full advantage of them and enjoy a nice "normal" weekend with Mike and Henry.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Day 15 - The Big Chill...
...or not. I've decided to not use the cold caps that I posted about a few days ago during my chemo treatments. Apparently they are the least effective with my chemo regimen (4 rounds of AC followed by 4 rounds of taxol), and they just seem so logistically difficult on top of everything else that I will be going through. Plus, using them will require me to stay in the hospital for an additional 3 (+/-) hours after each chemo treatment. I have a feeling that my toxic self will be RUNNING out of the cancer center every other Tuesday at the earliest possible moment. Well, maybe running. Can one really run right after chemo? If I can, I will.
My dear friend, who also happens to be my hair stylist, did some research on wigs for me today, and he has come up with some good options. He took on something that seemed so overwhelming to me, and I am very grateful for that. I trust his judgement with my hair (and with my fake hair) implicitly so will basically just do what he says. I will also be sure to give him credit, as requested, anytime someone compliments my TBD wig. Don't tell him that I may just wear a baseball cap some days.
I had my first echocardiogram today (so many firsts lately), and I am proud to report that my ticker is strong enough for chemo. Apparently the echo technician, Lisa, and I will see each other often during this process.
Otherwise, I seem to be healing well from yesterday's surgery. I am a bit sore but no worse for the wear. I can take the bandages off and see what we're really working with tomorrow. I promise that I will take no pictures.
My power port packet (say that 5 times fast) came with a handy purple silicone bracelet. The patient info flyer recommended wearing the purple bracelet so that I don't forget that I have the port. Useful AND fashionable. I like that. Pretty sure that I won't forget about something that is poking out of my chest. I gave Henry the bracelet, and he was delighted.
Chemo education tomorrow. Getting ready to pack my multi-colored pens and notebook.
My dear friend, who also happens to be my hair stylist, did some research on wigs for me today, and he has come up with some good options. He took on something that seemed so overwhelming to me, and I am very grateful for that. I trust his judgement with my hair (and with my fake hair) implicitly so will basically just do what he says. I will also be sure to give him credit, as requested, anytime someone compliments my TBD wig. Don't tell him that I may just wear a baseball cap some days.
I had my first echocardiogram today (so many firsts lately), and I am proud to report that my ticker is strong enough for chemo. Apparently the echo technician, Lisa, and I will see each other often during this process.
Otherwise, I seem to be healing well from yesterday's surgery. I am a bit sore but no worse for the wear. I can take the bandages off and see what we're really working with tomorrow. I promise that I will take no pictures.
My power port packet (say that 5 times fast) came with a handy purple silicone bracelet. The patient info flyer recommended wearing the purple bracelet so that I don't forget that I have the port. Useful AND fashionable. I like that. Pretty sure that I won't forget about something that is poking out of my chest. I gave Henry the bracelet, and he was delighted.
Chemo education tomorrow. Getting ready to pack my multi-colored pens and notebook.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Day 14 - The Power Port
The port is in, and I am covered in bandages so I have no idea what it looks like. I am allowed to remove the bandages on Friday so can see it then. My surgeon also put in a marker right near the tumor on my left side. If all goes according to plan chemo-wise, the tumor could shrink so much that it is hard to find so the marker will tell everyone where it is. The tumor will have to come out one way or another even if it is borderline microscopic so the marker will help guide that process.
The surgery went well. We spent more time waiting for it to start than in actual surgery. When the anesthesiologist came to talk to me, he offered me the option to have local anesthesia and some medicine to make me really drowsy or general anesthesia. PUT ME UNDER. I didn't want to see any of what was going on even in a drowsy/unaware state. So, now I have, what I like to call, a bionic port. It will give me super powers over the next several months. I know it. It will also make for a good conversation piece when people see the giant lump near my clavicle.
I have an echocardiogram tomorrow morning then chemo education on Friday. Goodness.
As soon as I heal from this surgery, I hope to get back to the gym. I miss it so much. My oncologist said that I could not go during days 6-12 after each chemo infusion because that is when my immune system will be at its lowest but I can go any other time as long as I feel up for it. Man, I am ready to get back. Days 6-12 can be walks in the neighborhood or something easy and not terribly taxing on my body.
My pre-op nurse this morning was very nice and caring, and she kept saying "you're so young to be going through this." I am so young to be going through this, but the deeper I delve into the world of breast cancer, the more I find that there are alarming numbers of young people getting diagnosed with this disease. One really has to wonder why and how this can be prevented. I had not even had a mammogram until two weeks ago. Standard screening mammograms do not start until the age of 35 for most unless there is significant family history. I suppose that I am lucky that I was able to detect my lump on my own.
I am lucky and so extremely thankful for so many things in my life.
The surgery went well. We spent more time waiting for it to start than in actual surgery. When the anesthesiologist came to talk to me, he offered me the option to have local anesthesia and some medicine to make me really drowsy or general anesthesia. PUT ME UNDER. I didn't want to see any of what was going on even in a drowsy/unaware state. So, now I have, what I like to call, a bionic port. It will give me super powers over the next several months. I know it. It will also make for a good conversation piece when people see the giant lump near my clavicle.
I have an echocardiogram tomorrow morning then chemo education on Friday. Goodness.
As soon as I heal from this surgery, I hope to get back to the gym. I miss it so much. My oncologist said that I could not go during days 6-12 after each chemo infusion because that is when my immune system will be at its lowest but I can go any other time as long as I feel up for it. Man, I am ready to get back. Days 6-12 can be walks in the neighborhood or something easy and not terribly taxing on my body.
My pre-op nurse this morning was very nice and caring, and she kept saying "you're so young to be going through this." I am so young to be going through this, but the deeper I delve into the world of breast cancer, the more I find that there are alarming numbers of young people getting diagnosed with this disease. One really has to wonder why and how this can be prevented. I had not even had a mammogram until two weeks ago. Standard screening mammograms do not start until the age of 35 for most unless there is significant family history. I suppose that I am lucky that I was able to detect my lump on my own.
I am lucky and so extremely thankful for so many things in my life.
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
Day 13 - Some Sunshine
A lot of good things happened today:
- Mike got home safe and sound from St. Kitts. He was gone for over a week, and I was so glad for him to be home.
- My CT scan from yesterday showed no cancer anywhere else in my chest or abdomen.
- My brain MRI from today (results came back quickly) showed no cancer in my brain.
- I continue to get so much support and love from family, friends, colleagues, and people I don't even really know. It's been amazing.
I will admit that I cried like a baby over items 2 and 3. I was so nervous about having those extra tests and waiting for the results, but I am insanely relieved that the extra tests came back clear. I guess that drinking that horrid cocktail yesterday was worth it to get such news.
I read today that breast cancer patients will often gain weight during chemotherapy. Now, if that does not add insult to injury, I don't know what does. I guess I will have to revert back to my healthy eating habits instead of my current diet of "eating whatever my nerves will tolerate." The honest fact is that my nerves are not as bad as they were at first so I need to be real with myself about eating right. I also do promise to continue to be kind to myself during this whole process. If I gain a few pounds, I gain a few pounds, but COME ON.
I am getting my port put in tomorrow...the first real step in the plan. That port will deliver life-saving drugs to my body and will also help save my poor veins from being poked every time I walk into a medical office. I may as well just walk through the front door with my sleeve rolled up and my arm held out. I've been told that I have good veins (if I do say so myself) and am tired of them getting stabbed on a daily basis.
Henry and I are so glad that Mike is home. Now we'll be able to work together to establish our new normal and get through these treatments and any necessary surgery. The team is in tact, and we're ready to go.
Monday, February 16, 2015
Day 12- It's Cocktail Time
For a good time, mix the following:
That is what I had for breakfast this morning. Two servings of barium "berry" smoothie in advance of my CT scan. They say that it is best served cold and consumed via straw. They lie. There is no best way to drink that stuff.
The CT scan was easy enough and mercifully brief. I guess they keep the procedure short as compensation for making patients drink that vile liquid. I should have the results "soon." I am back to jumping through my skin every time I see an unknown number pop up on my phone. I pray for a clear CT scan.
I also spent some time learning more about chemo cold caps (a friend mentioned them to me a week or so ago, and my oncologist brought them up to me last week as well). Cold caps therapy can be used during chemo as a way to potentially reduce hair loss. I would basically wear a series of freezing cold (-52 degrees) hats before, during, and for a time period after each of my 8 chemotherapy sessions. There is no guarantee that I won't still experience complete hair loss, but these chemo caps have an 80% success rate. The representative that I talked to today said that all clients still lose some hair (20-25%), but I've got some hair to spare I suppose.
I am going to give this some serious thought and talk to Mike about it. Keeping my hair would not only help me to retain some of my physical identity, but I think that it would also make this whole process much less scary for Henry. Maybe mom won't look so drastically different.
There are some drawbacks - expense, effort, extra time spent, having a freezing cold things attached to my head for up to 6 hours every two weeks, making someone change the cap every 28 minutes during each treatment, etc.
Again, something to think about over the next few days. Here's an article about a Charleston resident who had success with cold caps.
My mom left around 1pm today, and I missed her the second that she drove away. I am so glad that she was here over the past few days. Not only was it comforting, but she and I had some time to spend together that we don't normally have. We talked a lot, laughed a lot, and she was simply here for me (and always will be). Henry also loved having his Nana here.
Saw my surgeon today to discuss my port placement for Wednesday. It was a brief appointment, and he answered some questions for me.
On tap for tomorrow - lupron injection and a brain MRI. Thank goodness, there are no "cocktails" on the agenda.
- 4 parts chalk
- 2 parts artificial berry flavor with some kind of sweetner
- 2 parts white coloring
- 1 part thickener
- 3 parts laxative
That is what I had for breakfast this morning. Two servings of barium "berry" smoothie in advance of my CT scan. They say that it is best served cold and consumed via straw. They lie. There is no best way to drink that stuff.
The CT scan was easy enough and mercifully brief. I guess they keep the procedure short as compensation for making patients drink that vile liquid. I should have the results "soon." I am back to jumping through my skin every time I see an unknown number pop up on my phone. I pray for a clear CT scan.
I also spent some time learning more about chemo cold caps (a friend mentioned them to me a week or so ago, and my oncologist brought them up to me last week as well). Cold caps therapy can be used during chemo as a way to potentially reduce hair loss. I would basically wear a series of freezing cold (-52 degrees) hats before, during, and for a time period after each of my 8 chemotherapy sessions. There is no guarantee that I won't still experience complete hair loss, but these chemo caps have an 80% success rate. The representative that I talked to today said that all clients still lose some hair (20-25%), but I've got some hair to spare I suppose.
I am going to give this some serious thought and talk to Mike about it. Keeping my hair would not only help me to retain some of my physical identity, but I think that it would also make this whole process much less scary for Henry. Maybe mom won't look so drastically different.
There are some drawbacks - expense, effort, extra time spent, having a freezing cold things attached to my head for up to 6 hours every two weeks, making someone change the cap every 28 minutes during each treatment, etc.
Again, something to think about over the next few days. Here's an article about a Charleston resident who had success with cold caps.
My mom left around 1pm today, and I missed her the second that she drove away. I am so glad that she was here over the past few days. Not only was it comforting, but she and I had some time to spend together that we don't normally have. We talked a lot, laughed a lot, and she was simply here for me (and always will be). Henry also loved having his Nana here.
Saw my surgeon today to discuss my port placement for Wednesday. It was a brief appointment, and he answered some questions for me.
On tap for tomorrow - lupron injection and a brain MRI. Thank goodness, there are no "cocktails" on the agenda.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
Day 11 - Binders Full of Cancer
I've always loved school and office supplies and still find myself agonizing over which binders, pens, notebooks, post-its are perfect for my needs. I found myself looking for the perfect cancer binder in Target today while Henry was trying to weasel a new toy from both me and my mother (he was unsuccessful).
I love binders. As an event planner, binders are my safety net and are very comforting. Event attendees who have known me for a while tend to give me a hard time, "we never see you without that binder." They're right. At an event, I am never without my binder as it contains everything that I need to successfully tackle the event.
It only stands to reason that I should have a binder for one of the most major life experiences that I will face...battling cancer. What goes into the perfect cancer binder, you ask? Well, I can only guess, but it must look nice (now is NOT the time for a boring white binder with clear pocket), it must be large for ALL of the paperwork that is constantly thrown at me, it must be durable, and it must have a place for my notebook that has come with me to all appointments and is used for all phone calls.
So I have a cancer binder. It has a lovely pink ikat print on it and has a clip inside of it to hold my notebook. Who would have thought that I would need a cancer binder, but I do know that it will be important for me to be organized during this process so I will have a place for insurance information, lab reports, doctor notes, medicine that I am taking, important phone numbers, etc.
I've got some organizing to do. That stack of paperwork that I have is about to be hole punched and put in its rightful place.
Any colleagues reading this are probably laughing right about now.
Outside of binder research, today was pretty normal and even a bit relaxing. My mom, Henry and I went out to a late breakfast/early lunch (some might call that brunch) at a place called Cory's Grilled Cheese. Yes, that's right. A grilled cheese restaurant. Then we went to Kiawah and bumbled around for a little while. It was too cold to do too much, but cold or no cold, I always love going to Kiawah.
We took Henry for a new pair of shoes and picked up a few essentials from Target. MUCH to Henry's disappointment, a new Planes Fire & Rescue toy was not included on our list of essentials. He had a full blown meltdown about it in the car when I broke the bad news, and he was weepy on and off about it while we were in the store. Drama.
I love binders. As an event planner, binders are my safety net and are very comforting. Event attendees who have known me for a while tend to give me a hard time, "we never see you without that binder." They're right. At an event, I am never without my binder as it contains everything that I need to successfully tackle the event.
It only stands to reason that I should have a binder for one of the most major life experiences that I will face...battling cancer. What goes into the perfect cancer binder, you ask? Well, I can only guess, but it must look nice (now is NOT the time for a boring white binder with clear pocket), it must be large for ALL of the paperwork that is constantly thrown at me, it must be durable, and it must have a place for my notebook that has come with me to all appointments and is used for all phone calls.
So I have a cancer binder. It has a lovely pink ikat print on it and has a clip inside of it to hold my notebook. Who would have thought that I would need a cancer binder, but I do know that it will be important for me to be organized during this process so I will have a place for insurance information, lab reports, doctor notes, medicine that I am taking, important phone numbers, etc.
I've got some organizing to do. That stack of paperwork that I have is about to be hole punched and put in its rightful place.
Any colleagues reading this are probably laughing right about now.
Outside of binder research, today was pretty normal and even a bit relaxing. My mom, Henry and I went out to a late breakfast/early lunch (some might call that brunch) at a place called Cory's Grilled Cheese. Yes, that's right. A grilled cheese restaurant. Then we went to Kiawah and bumbled around for a little while. It was too cold to do too much, but cold or no cold, I always love going to Kiawah.
We took Henry for a new pair of shoes and picked up a few essentials from Target. MUCH to Henry's disappointment, a new Planes Fire & Rescue toy was not included on our list of essentials. He had a full blown meltdown about it in the car when I broke the bad news, and he was weepy on and off about it while we were in the store. Drama.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Day 10 - A Hot Mess
"You're a hot mess," said a friend lovingly after I told her that I went to urgent care for ear pain and wooziness. I think it is the perfect description. A hot mess. I have been having ear pressure/pain and some wooziness since last Saturday so I finally went to the doctor for it (with the blessing from my oncologist). Turns out that I have a ton of fluid in my ears which is throwing off my equilibrium. 6 flights in the last 2 weeks probably did not help anything in that area.
They flushed out my ear (totally bizarre feeling) and recommended some OTC meds. The doc wanted to give me some steroids to dry out my ears, but since I am having surgery on Wednesday, I can't do that. I will admit that I am glad that there was a very clear reason for my ear pain and cloudy/foggy feeling. It helps me not read too far into things.
Also left Henry's jacket and sunglasses at a birthday party that we attended this morning. "They" say that chemo can make you more forgetful. Maybe just the idea of chemo is making me more forgetful.
A hot mess.
Otherwise, today was great. We celebrated a very special little boy's 4th birthday this morning then my mom and Henry made Valentine cookies this afternoon while I went to the doc and dozed on the couch. The "may cause drowsiness" on the box of Zyrtec D is quite the understatement.
One more day of "normal" on tap for tomorrow before my week of doctor's appointments and procedures starts.
They flushed out my ear (totally bizarre feeling) and recommended some OTC meds. The doc wanted to give me some steroids to dry out my ears, but since I am having surgery on Wednesday, I can't do that. I will admit that I am glad that there was a very clear reason for my ear pain and cloudy/foggy feeling. It helps me not read too far into things.
Also left Henry's jacket and sunglasses at a birthday party that we attended this morning. "They" say that chemo can make you more forgetful. Maybe just the idea of chemo is making me more forgetful.
A hot mess.
Otherwise, today was great. We celebrated a very special little boy's 4th birthday this morning then my mom and Henry made Valentine cookies this afternoon while I went to the doc and dozed on the couch. The "may cause drowsiness" on the box of Zyrtec D is quite the understatement.
One more day of "normal" on tap for tomorrow before my week of doctor's appointments and procedures starts.
Friday, February 13, 2015
Day 9 - A Fairly Normal Day
I suppose that I won't know what a normal day feels like for a while, but today was fairly normal. I only had one doctor appointment, and it was pretty brief. I got to see one of my favorite doctors, the doctor that delivered Henry almost 4 years ago. It was so wonderful to see him, and he was so supportive and positive. He also wrote me a little prescription to help ease some anxiety and help me sleep.
My overwhelming feelings from yesterday have dissipated some though cancer is always on my mind right now. It's awfully rude that way..never really leaves me alone, and I like to be alone sometimes. I talked to a woman who is about to celebrate 5 years of being cancer-free. That must be such a wonderful feeling. I very much look forward to that day.
I was actually able to accomplish a lot of work today as well as work on backup plans for the days when I can't work as much as I would like. It felt good to be so productive and to forget about cancer for a little while. I even had several phone calls during which cancer was NOT mentioned at all. Wow. That has not happened in a week. That was nice.
My mom, Henry and I went out to Mexican for dinner tonight. I usually prefer to go to Senior Tequila's ON Valentine's Day (que romantico), but I suppose that the day before will have to suffice. Henry was absolutely bananas from all of the sugar that he had from his school Valentine's Day party so the dinner was, mercifully, brief.
I did move a scheduled chemo education session back to later in the week next week so that Mike can attend. I think that it will be good for him to hear more about it first-hand.
I am not sure how I will ever be able to repay all of the kindness that I have received from countless family, friends, colleagues, and people who I don't even know. I guess that the beauty of kindness is that there is no expectation of repayment, but I do hope to be able to offer the same level of compassion and support to others down the road.
Today was a pretty boring day, all things considered. I needed boring.
My overwhelming feelings from yesterday have dissipated some though cancer is always on my mind right now. It's awfully rude that way..never really leaves me alone, and I like to be alone sometimes. I talked to a woman who is about to celebrate 5 years of being cancer-free. That must be such a wonderful feeling. I very much look forward to that day.
I was actually able to accomplish a lot of work today as well as work on backup plans for the days when I can't work as much as I would like. It felt good to be so productive and to forget about cancer for a little while. I even had several phone calls during which cancer was NOT mentioned at all. Wow. That has not happened in a week. That was nice.
My mom, Henry and I went out to Mexican for dinner tonight. I usually prefer to go to Senior Tequila's ON Valentine's Day (que romantico), but I suppose that the day before will have to suffice. Henry was absolutely bananas from all of the sugar that he had from his school Valentine's Day party so the dinner was, mercifully, brief.
I did move a scheduled chemo education session back to later in the week next week so that Mike can attend. I think that it will be good for him to hear more about it first-hand.
I am not sure how I will ever be able to repay all of the kindness that I have received from countless family, friends, colleagues, and people who I don't even know. I guess that the beauty of kindness is that there is no expectation of repayment, but I do hope to be able to offer the same level of compassion and support to others down the road.
Today was a pretty boring day, all things considered. I needed boring.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Day 8 - Overwhelmed
Information overload. I am feeling so overwhelmed. I saw my oncologist today, who is a wonderful person. I feel so fortunate to be in his care for this process.
I am totally overwhelmed though. Basics - the cancer is actually stage 2 because there are some lymph nodes involved. Stage 2. I can handle that. The doctor also wants for me to have a full body scan and a brain MRI to double triple check that there is no more cancer anywhere else. I am terrified of the prospect but even more terrified of not being thorough. So that is what I will do. More tests. More waiting for results. More sleepless nights. I am remaining positive, though, and praying that there is nothing else. I'd rather know now though.
I also got my treatment plan and am taking the steps necessary to start to implement it. I will start chemo on Feb. 24. 8 rounds, 1 treatment every 2 weeks. If all goes according to plan, I will finish chemo on June 2. I am doing 4 rounds of 1 type of chemo and 4 rounds of another. Again, thorough. I like that.
After chemo, I will have some form of surgery. The scope of the surgery will become more clear as I progress with chemo and get the genetic test results back.
After surgery, I will have 6.5 weeks of radiation. I will go in every day for a zap (not sure about the weekends). The doctor said that it would take me longer to find a place to park than it would do the radiation treatment. Ok. Can do.
So that is the plan, for now. If there are any hiccups, we will adjust the plan as we go. Prayers for no hiccups.
My doctor was truly great during the appiontment. He held my hand when I was anxious, reassured me when necessary, and even made fun of me a little bit (color-coded notes and the longest list of questions he has ever seen). My kind of guy. I like someone with a sense of humor.
I am so glad that my mom is here. She was awesome during the appointment and had some great questions to ask.
My oncologist did recommend that I take some melatonin to try to sleep better at night. That will absolutely happen tonight. He also recommended some vitamin D so picked up some of that.
Doc appts next week include - CT scan, meeting with chemo nurse, meeting with surgeon, lepro (?) shot (to potentially preserve fertility if we want), brain MRI, port surgery, echocardiogram. Holy moly. That is is a lot of doc appts.
One of the chemo drugs that I will be taking has the potential to affect the heart so they want to get a baseline echocardiogram so that they can monitor my old ticker along the way. I'm cool with that. The CT scan and the MRI freak me out though, but I am trying to put them out of my mind.
My nurse friend also showed me around one of the chemo infusion rooms at the center. It was so nice of her to take the time. I kind of rushed the process though. I had been there for so long and was so full of information and emotion.
I got out of there, had a good long cry, talked to Mike and a few others, and pulled it together in time for Henry to get home with my mom.
So yeah. Overwhelmed. So very glad to have a plan in place though. I like plans.
I am totally overwhelmed though. Basics - the cancer is actually stage 2 because there are some lymph nodes involved. Stage 2. I can handle that. The doctor also wants for me to have a full body scan and a brain MRI to double triple check that there is no more cancer anywhere else. I am terrified of the prospect but even more terrified of not being thorough. So that is what I will do. More tests. More waiting for results. More sleepless nights. I am remaining positive, though, and praying that there is nothing else. I'd rather know now though.
I also got my treatment plan and am taking the steps necessary to start to implement it. I will start chemo on Feb. 24. 8 rounds, 1 treatment every 2 weeks. If all goes according to plan, I will finish chemo on June 2. I am doing 4 rounds of 1 type of chemo and 4 rounds of another. Again, thorough. I like that.
After chemo, I will have some form of surgery. The scope of the surgery will become more clear as I progress with chemo and get the genetic test results back.
After surgery, I will have 6.5 weeks of radiation. I will go in every day for a zap (not sure about the weekends). The doctor said that it would take me longer to find a place to park than it would do the radiation treatment. Ok. Can do.
So that is the plan, for now. If there are any hiccups, we will adjust the plan as we go. Prayers for no hiccups.
My doctor was truly great during the appiontment. He held my hand when I was anxious, reassured me when necessary, and even made fun of me a little bit (color-coded notes and the longest list of questions he has ever seen). My kind of guy. I like someone with a sense of humor.
I am so glad that my mom is here. She was awesome during the appointment and had some great questions to ask.
My oncologist did recommend that I take some melatonin to try to sleep better at night. That will absolutely happen tonight. He also recommended some vitamin D so picked up some of that.
Doc appts next week include - CT scan, meeting with chemo nurse, meeting with surgeon, lepro (?) shot (to potentially preserve fertility if we want), brain MRI, port surgery, echocardiogram. Holy moly. That is is a lot of doc appts.
One of the chemo drugs that I will be taking has the potential to affect the heart so they want to get a baseline echocardiogram so that they can monitor my old ticker along the way. I'm cool with that. The CT scan and the MRI freak me out though, but I am trying to put them out of my mind.
My nurse friend also showed me around one of the chemo infusion rooms at the center. It was so nice of her to take the time. I kind of rushed the process though. I had been there for so long and was so full of information and emotion.
I got out of there, had a good long cry, talked to Mike and a few others, and pulled it together in time for Henry to get home with my mom.
So yeah. Overwhelmed. So very glad to have a plan in place though. I like plans.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Day 7 - A Wee Bit Random
You'd think that one faced with the prospect of losing her hair would spend more time actually styling the hair that she does have. Not me. I guess this proves that I am still just regular old me. I did wash, dry, and style my hair this morning. How about a pat on the old back?!
I also found myself laughing and crying a tiny bit as I was driving back from dropping Henry off at school. Scene - 33-year old mom in what amounts to a station wagon (those mid-sized SUVs are designed to make people feel a little bit better about driving station wagons), car seat in back, 8:00am, Eminem and Nate Dogg BLARING from the radio, and me singing (?) every word along with them. What can I say, I like rap. I like rap a lot, and I'm not going to hide it. Small tip for "real" adults reading this - DO NOT look up songs by Eminem and Nate Dogg. Trust me. Don't.
I think that I made Henry uncomfortable this morning. I was staring at him nonstop for a little while. He is just so cute and sweet. I am totally in awe of him. I told his school my news yesterday, and they were wonderful (of course). I want them to be aware of what is going on for when changes do start to happen and we start talking to Henry about this. Continuing to build the team here.
Reinforcements have arrived! My mom got here this afternoon, and I am so glad that she is here. She came with tons of food, tons of love, and tons of support. She's going to be here until Monday and will go with me to the oncologist tomorrow.
I woke up exhausted this morning. A sure sign that I am not getting quality sleep. Goodness, I am so tired.
My doctor's office sent me a copy of the pathology report, and they also included the MRI report from yesterday. I am no doctor, but when I saw "no suspicious masses on the right side," I was pretty relieved. So the left is letting me down, but the right is holding strong. That is good news. There were some suspicious lymph nodes on the left, but I have known that is a possibility the whole time, and I will tackle those when I tackle the tumor.
On day 0 of this whole process (the day that I had the biopsy done on the suspicious lump), I got in my car after the appointment and had a good long cry. I was scared. I was really scared. Once I got it all out, I started the car and drove to get Henry. As I was driving down the road, I saw part of a rainbow in the sky. It was a small rainbow but seemingly appeared out of nowhere. It had not rained at all that day. I swear that rainbow was just for me. I needed to see it that day, and I need to remember it during this whole journey.
I also found myself laughing and crying a tiny bit as I was driving back from dropping Henry off at school. Scene - 33-year old mom in what amounts to a station wagon (those mid-sized SUVs are designed to make people feel a little bit better about driving station wagons), car seat in back, 8:00am, Eminem and Nate Dogg BLARING from the radio, and me singing (?) every word along with them. What can I say, I like rap. I like rap a lot, and I'm not going to hide it. Small tip for "real" adults reading this - DO NOT look up songs by Eminem and Nate Dogg. Trust me. Don't.
I think that I made Henry uncomfortable this morning. I was staring at him nonstop for a little while. He is just so cute and sweet. I am totally in awe of him. I told his school my news yesterday, and they were wonderful (of course). I want them to be aware of what is going on for when changes do start to happen and we start talking to Henry about this. Continuing to build the team here.
Reinforcements have arrived! My mom got here this afternoon, and I am so glad that she is here. She came with tons of food, tons of love, and tons of support. She's going to be here until Monday and will go with me to the oncologist tomorrow.
I woke up exhausted this morning. A sure sign that I am not getting quality sleep. Goodness, I am so tired.
My doctor's office sent me a copy of the pathology report, and they also included the MRI report from yesterday. I am no doctor, but when I saw "no suspicious masses on the right side," I was pretty relieved. So the left is letting me down, but the right is holding strong. That is good news. There were some suspicious lymph nodes on the left, but I have known that is a possibility the whole time, and I will tackle those when I tackle the tumor.
On day 0 of this whole process (the day that I had the biopsy done on the suspicious lump), I got in my car after the appointment and had a good long cry. I was scared. I was really scared. Once I got it all out, I started the car and drove to get Henry. As I was driving down the road, I saw part of a rainbow in the sky. It was a small rainbow but seemingly appeared out of nowhere. It had not rained at all that day. I swear that rainbow was just for me. I needed to see it that day, and I need to remember it during this whole journey.
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Day 6 - The MRI
Had my first MRI today, and that was quite the experience. It is very strange to be inside of a very noisy tube, and I had to be really still for about 30 minutes. Thankfully, I was face-down in the tube, and I think that made it easier to be still. It is hard to be perfectly still..my shoulders started shaking at the end. Maybe I should have not worked out last night.
The MRI technicians said that they got all of the images that they need, and I will get the results when I meet with my oncologist on Thursday. More waiting.
Favorite part, hands down, of the MRI appointment was when the technician was going through paperwork and asked "do you have any implants." I just looked down at my chest and laughed. She did too after she paused at my inappropriateness. Cancer or no cancer, I still have the sense of humor of a 12-year old boy.
I heard from a few more people today, which continues to be wonderful. The support has been absolutely astounding.
Otherwise, I was much less weepy today. I think that I only cried twice. The headache continues which I attribute to stress, crying, a drastic reduction in calorie consumption (I really have to force myself to eat), and jaw clenching. I guess some tension is to be expected after receiving a cancer diagnosis.
I have no doctor's appointments tomorrow and would actually like to not talk to any medical professionals all day tomorrow. My uninvited friend will be with me all day, but maybe I can avoid talking about it as much.
PS: Typing this on my ipad which does not seem to be spell-checking as I go. Please forgive any typos. I will have to look at the post again from my work computer because I hate typos. I hate cancer more, but I really do hate typos.
The MRI technicians said that they got all of the images that they need, and I will get the results when I meet with my oncologist on Thursday. More waiting.
Favorite part, hands down, of the MRI appointment was when the technician was going through paperwork and asked "do you have any implants." I just looked down at my chest and laughed. She did too after she paused at my inappropriateness. Cancer or no cancer, I still have the sense of humor of a 12-year old boy.
I heard from a few more people today, which continues to be wonderful. The support has been absolutely astounding.
Otherwise, I was much less weepy today. I think that I only cried twice. The headache continues which I attribute to stress, crying, a drastic reduction in calorie consumption (I really have to force myself to eat), and jaw clenching. I guess some tension is to be expected after receiving a cancer diagnosis.
I have no doctor's appointments tomorrow and would actually like to not talk to any medical professionals all day tomorrow. My uninvited friend will be with me all day, but maybe I can avoid talking about it as much.
PS: Typing this on my ipad which does not seem to be spell-checking as I go. Please forgive any typos. I will have to look at the post again from my work computer because I hate typos. I hate cancer more, but I really do hate typos.
Monday, February 9, 2015
Day 5 - Weepy + More Information
I was so weepy today. Goodness. I talked to/heard from so many people today, and everyone was so wonderfully nice and supportive. I can't even describe how overwhelmed I am with all of the kind words and support that I have already received.
I did get some more information today, which made me feel
so much better. I have triple negative
breast cancer, and it is stage 1, T2.
Stage 1. Stage freaking 1. I almost instantly felt lighter when Dr. Hawk
said that to me. Stage 1. Obviously, it's still cancer and has to be
treated aggressively, but it could be so much worse.
I also pushed back my port surgery until next week. It
just felt way to sudden and way too rushed for me, and I want to wait to do
that until I have the MRI and meet with the oncologist. Dr. Hawk was extremely supportive of that
decision and assured me that it would not be detrimental to my treatment.
Things were just moving so fast. I want this out, and I want it out NOW, but I
want all of the information first and foremost.
I am a fact person and need the facts before something so life-altering
happens to me.
Mike left for St. Kitts today, but we were able to talk
several times while he was in the airport. I know that he was pleased to have
more information too.
I went to the gym tonight, and it felt so good. I worked out pretty hard and it felt good to
know that I could. I told my trainer what is going on, and he was, of course,
supportive. It will be nice to have the entire Orangetheory Fitness team behind
me. I'd like to continue to go as much as I possibly can. I love that place.
I will absolutely have to have chemo first. That is
standard practice for triple negative. I am ok with that. I am more than
ok. I am almost excited for it because
it will mean that my cancer is going away.
Wonder how I will look bald??
Probably bad..I have a giant dome.
Hopefully I will be less weepy tomorrow. My poor eyes and head. I've had cancer for 5 days now (well I have
known about it for 5 days), and I am finally getting more information and next
steps.
I do need to figure out what we are going to say to
Henry. He's going to know that something
is wrong, especially when I lose my hair.
Maybe he'll want to shave his head too.
That would be so cute. :)
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Day 4 - Cancer Comes With Us
Cancer has taken away my ability to have a normal weekend
day. I feel a little bit robbed. Henry and I went to Monkey Joes and Target,
but cancer also went with us. I think
about it every other second, and talk about it every other minute. I know that this is just going to be my
normal for a while, but I don't want cancer to come with me when I am trying to
spend time with my son. I want it to be
gone.
I had another headache today. I think that it is from stress and lack of
quality sleep. It was more of a dull foggy feeling than a piercing
headache. I am also 100% sure that I
have been clenching my jaw nonstop for the past several days.
I am continuing to tell others my news, and the response
has been overwhelming. I have always
known that I have a lot of people who love me (and us), but I never really knew
the depth. We have had so many people
reaching out to us and offering their support and love. I am on numerous prayer lists at churches all
across the country. That is so
comforting to me. I am going to continue
to need the support over the next however long.
At this point, I just want answers and next steps. I want the where, the why, the how. Also, why do I keep hearing stories of young
women like me being diagnosed with breast cancer. What is going on? Is it our food, is it our environment, is it
the products that we are using? Why is
this happening?
How am I going to talk to Henry about this? What is he going to say if (when) I lose my
hair? I am sure that he will be somewhat
fascinated, but I don't want him to be scared.
I maintain my resolve to do whatever I have to do to
combat this. WHATEVER. I just want to be
better. Cancer is NOT invited to my
weekends.
I joined a survivors group on Facebook. The group is private and is only for
survivors. Though I am newly diagnosed,
the group admin said "You're already a survivor, Nancy." I am.
I am already a survivor, and I will be cancer-free in no time. This will be a minor speedbump on my path in
life.
Saturday, February 7, 2015
Day 3 - Racing Heart
Day 3 = anxiety day. I found my heart racing several times during the day today and started to worry about every single twinge in my body. Why does my head hurt, what is going on with my stomach, is that twinge on my right side another tumor? Why is there an ache behind my eye? I need to chill. All of that is imaginary and due to stress and lack of sleep from last night. I need to chill.
I got home around 11p last night, and Mike and I talked
for a long time. I burst into tears when
I saw Mike, and we hugged forever. He
had some flowers on the kitchen table for me.
So sweet.
After much discussion last night, we decided that we are
going to pump the breaks on this just a little bit. Things are moving WAY too fast. Why am I getting a chemo port before talking
to an oncologist? Why is that the right
decision right off of the bat? I don't
feel comfortable with it so am going to call on Monday and postpone that until
after the oncologist appointment. I want all of the information before that
kind of drastic measure is taken.
I volunteered at a friend's event today. It was nice to have the distraction, but is
very strange having that part of me out to some and not out to others. But who just blurts out that she has
cancer? Not me. I need to be careful about what I say and
when.
I snuggled with Henry as much as humanly possible today,
and I keep asking God to not take me away from him. I pray that He is listening to me. I think that He is. Henry needs his mom, and he will have me. I will do whatever I have to do. I just keep asking to be on the safe
side. Want to be thorough here.
I also found my eyes filling up with tears several times
during the day today, and my heart would start to race some. I think that is
normal and to be expected. I need to
control the stress as much as I can though.
It is normal to be anxious, but I also have to remain positive as much
as humanly possible.
Henry is seriously the cutest and sweetest boy in the
whole wide world. He gave me about 1000
hugs today, and I needed every single one of them. We played a lot this morning
and snuggled together watching movies after I got back from the event. I love him so much and need to be very strong
for him and for me.
But really, I need to stop over-analyzing every little
twinge in my body. I think that i am
just hyper-aware right now.
Mike is going to St. Kitts on Monday, and I am ok with
that. I don't want our daily lives to stop, and I don't want us to not honor
our commitments just because of stupid cancer. Cancer is so stupid.
Here's another messed up thing - I feel SO GREAT. I have
been working out like a crazy person and eating really healthy. I really have never felt better. Ok, that Potbelly gluten-filled sandwich that
I had last night didn't make me feel so hot, and neither did the cookie, but
before the cancer verdict came down, I was super healthy.
AND I am getting right back on the healthy train. Did
today, in fact. I am going to be as healthy as possible. Eating right, no
drinking, and working out as much as I can.
I think that my brain has been a little fuzzy today from
what I ate last night and the lack of carbs today. Amazing how much of an
effect food has on a person.
My mom is going to come down on Wednesday for my Thursday
oncologist appointment. Here's the
schedule for next week.
Monday - talk to surgeon and postpone port Tuesday - MRI Thursday
- Oncologist Friday - reschedule port placement if necessary
In between all of that - love on my Henry, work, and
continue to gather as much information as humanly possible. Potentially seek second opinions based on
discussions and other appointments.
Should I start to become one of those annoying Facebook
people who posts inspirational quotes every second? Maybe so.
Maybe I need the inspirational quotes.
I need the strength, and I need to be better ASAP. I don't have time for this crap.
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