Adjusting the attitude

I'm getting ready to start Phase II of my treatments, which I knew was coming, and which I knew would help me, and which I am NOT looking forward to at all. I understand that chemo+ radiation is rough; tough nuggets, gotta go anyway.

I'm currently trying to adjust my attitude to be open to the new treatments--I'll probably go dark for a day or so and get my mind right, then come back ready to accept and work with the new situation. If I seem to be depressed, I'm not; I'm getting into battle mode again. I don't yet have all the information I need to get ready, but I have 2 appointments early next week that will get me informed. I'll be sure to post what I learn so we'll all know. Knowledge is power, right?

So don’t worry, y’all. I’m OK. I’m just looking for my shield, sword, and helmet right now. When I find them, I’ll be ready.

Keep sending good vibes my way, ‘k? I don’t know what I would do without y’all here to catch me. Thank you.  ¶ 6:45 PM 4 comments

  Wednesday

What can I say about yesterday? Lots, in fact, and so I will. Yesterday was the day that I had the PET scan and the CT scan and the consultation with yet another doctor regarding my care and recovery. What a day.

When I arrived for the PET scan, I had to register at the desk, and was given a form to look over and a red pen. My instructions were to check over the form and to circle anything that was incorrect. I’m grading my own paper, I thought--hehe--good for me. However, I was not the one who turned in that particular paper, for it had all kinds of errors on it. According to Rex Hospital, I’m married, unemployed, and use my husband’s work phone for my own. (I wonder where the info comes from—this was a computer-generated form!) While I was correcting those errors, a woman came into the room with beautiful, wavy, dark brown waist-length hair. Yes, I stared. Pretty, pretty hair. (Sigh…) When it was my turn back at the desk, we corrected all the errors, and the woman told me that my co-pay for today’s visit was $660. And then she asked if I’d like to take care of that now. Oh, yeah, I’ll just whip out the ol’ checkbook, no problem.

Then it was my turn to get juiced up. I walked down the hall, found the right room, and got the glow-in-the-dark juice, napped for an hour, and then was assisted onto the scanner. I got scanned for a few minutes, and then went home. So far, so good.

I had a little lunch, drank the CT contrast liquid, and waited for the next appointment of the day. FYI: if you ever have to drink the contrast liquid, get it cold, and use a straw. It tastes like barely-flavored chalk milk that’s slightly lumpy. I had 2 of those. Lucky me. Then I went to the CT appointment and got scanned again. Afterward, I talked with a very nice doctor regarding the chemo and radiation schedule. I have 2 more appointments before we start that, however; and I’ll know more about when & how much after those appointments. I will say this: my original understanding of 5 days of chemo + radiation was wrong. There will be more. I don’t know if the doctor who told me that was incorrect, or if I misunderstood, or if the plan changed after seeing the PET and CT scan films. And it doesn’t matter.

Chapter Two. Now it begins, ready or not. I’m a little (OK, a lot) apprehensive, uncertain, uncomfortable, and all those other words that are euphemisms for scared. I’m quite ready to take my toys and go home.

Thanks for being here. I think this chapter is going to be a little different than the first; I may be leaning hard on some of you. And if I get out of line, just remember: it’s not me, it’s the treatments. Then smack me.  ¶ 4:19 PM 5 comments

  Tuesday's news


Here's the prologue for the next chapter.

On Wednesday, I get both a PET scan and a CT scan—oh, happy day. I was not sure we could do both of those on the same day, since they are both IV procedures (using different kinds of “juice”), but yes, as long as the PET scan comes first. Of course, there’s the fasting after midnight deal, which is not a problem at all. (Who eats after midnight, anyway?) The hard part will be trying to squeeze in a little lunch between the two procedures. The PET scan will last about 3 hours, and then I can eat something light (and quickly) before the CT scan.

My instructions say not to eat for 2 hours before the CT scan. I can do that (and especially if the PET scan runs late!). Then I get to drink one container of contrast liquid 2 hours before, and then drink another container of contrast liquid 1 hour before the CT scan. And no food after starting the liquid, of course. How am I going to get my daily chocolate allowance in? Medical procedures… sheesh!

The next thing will be to have a consultation with the radiologist to determine how much radiation I get for the tumor in my lung. That will be determined by what the CT results show. You know how it goes: First you take the test, then you get the grade.

I was thinking that I'd be getting a little time off after this last treatment, but, once again, there I was, thinking again. I should'a known better!

Thanks for being here. I'm going to feel like a pincushion tomorrow, and it helps to know that y'all are here, feeling my pain. Or at least listening to me whine about it.  ¶ 2:53 PM 2 comments

  It's FRIDAY !!

Yes, it's finally Friday, and while I have no news, I do have some random items of interest--well, interestng to me, anyway.

I have noticed that while I recover from the chemo and the shot relatively quickly, I feel like I’m running at about 85% most of the time, even a week or two after chemo. Some days are better than others. I tire easily, I cough a lot, my general endurance is just not there. I’m probably the only person on the planet that gains weight during chemo—it’s stress eating, I know, but the calories don’t care. They love me.

After the shot, my bones always hurt, but sometimes it hurts differently. This time, my skin hurt to touch it. The skin on my arms hurt, the skin on my chest hurt, the skin on the back of my neck hurt. I have no idea why.

I’ve also noticed that all aromas are more acute; and most of the time offensive. Natural smells like freshly cut grass, food cooking, and fruits are wonderful. Chemical smells like perfume, cleaning products or gasoline are terrible; they make my throat dry, I cough, and it's hard to breathe.

I run hot and cold these days (and nights). I don’t know if it’s my age (I’m over 40), or if it’s the chemo. I'm not sure which I hope it is!

I still have hair on my arms, but the eyebrows and eyelashes are just about gone. Thank God for Maybelline and Covergirl; otherwise I’d be completely invisible. It’s funny (and you know I mean “not funny at all”) how blank a human face looks when the lashes and brows are gone; there’s no definition anywhere. This is not the year to take the family portrait!

My fingernails are growing like mad. They are long, strong, and for the first time in memory, I’m having to cut them. I don’t know whether the chemo or my job gets the credit for this one. I don't even care; I LOVE having nice nails.

I'm sorry to report that there are no cravings this time. Nothing is particularly appealing, and nothing is particularly repulsive. At this point, I'm back to having coffee, chocolate, cookies, and all the other things I like to eat. (For a few days after chemo, all those things are completely unappealing. Thank God THAT doesn't last!)

I also thank you all for being here. The hard days are easier because I have a whole community of people who are holding me up, patting my back, and pulling me through. Thank you. Yes, you over in the corner, you too.  ¶ 3:01 PM 1 comments

  Monday's news

The previous post was fun to write, and mostly accurate. I wrote that a few days prior to my treatment, and it’s a good thing, too, because I was really, really dreading getting all juiced up. I didn’t want to go at all; I didn’t want to get my blood drawn, and I didn’t want to get stuck with an IV line and be inside for the entire day. I was having a very hard time being cheerful and optimistic, and if I’d written what I was feeling then, I’d have been just a big, ol’ whiny baby. As it turned out, the day wasn’t all that bad. The doctor had no bad news for me, the nurses were sweet and caring, as always, and my ride home was right on time.

The shot on Saturday went well, although I was dreading that as well. Last time, the shot hurt, the medicine hurt, and the injection site was sore all day. It was an awful time. I didn’t want to go through that again, although I knew I had to. I know that the medicine helps me, but it hurts—the shot hurts and the medicine makes my bones hurt. This time, however, the needle went right in, medicine went in, no pain, no redness, all is well. I was so relieved!! My bones are achy for the last time—YEEHAA!!

The next item on the agenda is a PET scan and a CT scan, to check on the tumor in my lung and the cancer in the lymph nodes. And then we’ll know what we’re dealing with and can schedule the next round of chemo with radiation. Surgery is still on the agenda, with a chemo chaser. I swear, I don’t think I’ll ever have hair again!

Thanks to all of you for being here for me. I still get meals, cards, emails and happy thoughts, all of which I appreciate. I am so grateful and astounded at the amount of support; I need every bit. Whatever I need is and has been provided, quickly, easily, and cheerfully. Thank you.  ¶ 10:21 AM 1 comments

  Treatment #4 is OVER!!

A typical “happy juice” day. Bring your lunch and strap yourself in. It’s exciting. Yes, I’m kidding.

Upon arrival at Happy Juice Junction, I check in, just like at a doctor’s office. Then I sit and wait. Pretty soon, someone calls me and I go through the door. It slams shut behind me. The air is suddenly cold and still. The jingle of keys brings terror to….oh, wait, wrong story.

The door softly closes, and I am weighed, and then taken to the lab area. I take a seat and a nice nurse takes my temperature and blood pressure. Then she takes about a gallon of blood although she swears it’s only 3 vials. If it’s a day to visit with the doctor, I get put into an examination room. If not, then I get escorted down the hall and into the room where all the action happens.

I grab a blanket and pick a recliner while the nurses argue over whose turn it is to attend to me. (“Oh, no, I’m not taking her this time, I had her LAST time.” “Well, I’m not taking her either, she’s in YOUR area!”) Eventually, they draw straws, then use that straw to poke a hole in my arm for the IV. In a few minutes, I am given an IV bag full of some anti-nausea medicine. Or maybe it’s water. And when that bag is empty, I am given a bag of Benadryl, although it could be vodka. At this point, I get drowsy enough to stop talking. (I usually hear cheering in the nurses’ station right about then.) When the Benadryl bag is empty, the Taxol bag begins. After 3 bags of Taxol, I get 1 bag of Carboplatin.

This whole procedure takes about 5 hours. In the room, there are snacks and drinks available for everyone. Now and then I get up for a goodie, but mostly I just sit there, sometimes snoozing and sometimes reading. The nurses check on me periodically to make sure I’m not dead. And when all the bags are empty, the nurses unplug me and point me to the door. My reward is to stagger out to the check out area, make an appointment for the next treatment, hand over my payment, and hope my ride home has not forgotten me.

The next chapter will be: Radiation: Does it make me glow?

Thanks for being here. Please know that I could not do this without your being here, reading, listening, laughing, and walking with me. I’m not sure how it works, but I do draw strength from the thoughts, the prayers, and the happy vibes that are sent my way. I need them all, and I am grateful to get them.  ¶ 3:17 PM 1 comments

  Tuesday's news

There are days when I take 2 steps forward and then one step back. This is one of those days. Today, I’m having a hard time breathing. In the summer, I had trouble breathing when I went from inside air-conditioned dry air to outside humid hot air, but since the weather has changed, I haven’t had much trouble until now. I’m coughing more, and I feel pressure in my chest; like someone is pushing on it. I don’t feel bad, really, I just can’t breathe easily and can't stop this coughing. Usually when I cough, it means that I’m walking too fast OR that I’m talking too much. (Yeah, yeah, y’all have fun with that….) Today, I’m not walking nor talking any more than usual, so I don’t know why this cough is so persistent. I don’t recall this happening in the past during the week prior to a treatment, but maybe it did. I’m thinking that ol’ Skippy hasn’t been juiced lately, and is getting comfy, making me miserable in the process. Oh, it’s not going to work for long, since chemo day is Friday and Skippy will get a blast of killer juice, but he doesn’t know that. Hehe. Not that I’m looking forward to Friday at all, but it does tend to give Skippy a good kick.

During this week I’m preparing for chemo week. I’ll be catching up with laundry, cleaning, cooking, shopping & bill-paying. I have had lots of people offering to do all of those things for me, but those are things I really need to do myself. And if I do them myself, I’m doing something instead of sitting and waiting. (I don’t sit and wait very well—is anyone surprised?) Then, next week when I feel like the bottom of the bird cage, I won’t have to think about what needs to be done. My focus will be eating and sleeping, just like my ol’ lazy dog. What a life, huh?

Thanks for being here.  ¶ 6:17 PM 4 comments

  I know, I know, I haven’t posted in days. That’s good news, y’all! Honestly, I feel good, I’m eating, I’m sleeping, the job is going well, and the dog has finally stopped shedding enough hair to knit a sweater. See? Life is good. I have learned that if I keep Tylenol or Motrin in my system all the time, I feel better: No aches, not much coughing, throat is less sore (yes, I still have that). Still no cravings, either, although mashed and baked potatoes (not together) taste very good to me. Hmmm… maybe together would be good, too.

I’ve been wearing my wig to work and around town. It generates far less attention than hats and scarves, allowing me to fly under the radar. I’m a blonde now, which people seem to like. I haven’t been naturally blonde for many years, but hey, I may go back if I ever get hair again! I have learned that whether it’s homegrown or not, “bad hair days” still happen. Who’d a thought?? Oh, and something else: now that the weather has cooled, when I go “au naturel,” my poor bald head gets downright cold! Many thanks to Darlene at Lovely Lady in Cary for her advice and skill at making this wig look natural.

There are so many people to thank for their assistance on this journey; there are many, and I hope they know who they are. Some folks I lean on a little, others I lean on a lot; it just depends on what I need at the time. Every bit helps, and I am grateful you are here.  ¶ 2:36 PM 6 comments

  A Movie

It’s Monday! The beginning of a new week. We all get another chance.

I had an experience yesterday. Theresa invited me out to see a movie. I haven’t been to see a movie in months. And so off we went. Now, which movie it was isn’t important. What is important is what we did: Two grown women rode together to the theater, parked the car, bought tickets and popcorn, and went inside to find our seats. Of course, we talked all through the previews, but when the movie started, we were quiet. It was a good movie, light and entertaining, with well-known actors in an easy to follow good story. There was a happy ending--my favorite kind.

And for those 2 hours, I forgot that I was sick. Thanks, Theresa.  ¶ 3:09 PM 3 comments