Tuesday's News
It’s been several days since my last posting, so an update is in order.
I’m healing up from the last meeting with Mr. Needle—Motrin helps—and am hoping that I don’t have to have that procedure again. The injection site was VERY sore on Friday and Saturday, and I had muscle pain in my back this time, which I did not have before. I was more tired after this thoracentesis than I was from the others. The couch was my very best friend during the weekend, and since the dog likes to be where I am, I had a napping buddy too. Not a bad way to spend the weekend.
Since I’m currently between treatments, I can see how I “really” feel. (It feels good not being on chemo. There, I said it. Yes, I’ll take the chemo pills when I get them; I am still fighting a battle here.) I still feel pressure in my chest so it’s hard to breathe sometimes, but I have not had that racing and pounding heartbeat since the last chemo treatment. I tend to stay tired, although not completely drained of energy, and I tire quickly after exertion, like climbing stairs or carrying something. I have an interesting little “zing” that I feel when I’m getting tired. It’s almost like a vibration, usually begins in my knees, then I feel it inside my head. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s impossible to ignore. Once I rest for a while, the sensation goes away. When I get tired again, it comes back. My appetite is also coming back, and I have discovered that when I don’t have to prepare my own meals, I eat more. I still don’t have the stamina to stand long enough to cook, and as a result, most of my meals are quick and boring, like soup or a sandwich. But if someone else cooks—look out! And of course, I’m still able (and quite willing) to go out, so I eat well then, too. Another mixed blessing.
I’ll start taking the chemo pills later this week. Here we go again!
Thanks for being here. It’s such a comfort to know that y’all are right here.
3rd meeting with Mr. Needle
Warning: Whiny and squeamish information follows. Proceed at your own risk.
I had the 3rd meeting with Mr. Needle this afternoon. What a fiasco that was!
Once I arrived at the office, I had to wait a little while before my procedure started, which was unusual. Once inside, I talked with Dr. W., who has been with me every time, and we discussed the risks of this thoracentesis, just like we do every time. So then it was time to go and get to work. Unsuspecting me put on the hospital gown, walked into the room where the good stuff happens and hopped up on the table and waited.
The first thing was the ultrasound, which didn’t hurt. The second thing was the numbing agent, which hurt like a $#@*&, but usually did a decent job. Usually. Today was not a usual day. I felt every shot, and I felt the catheter go in. When I flinched, she gave me another shot. Felt that, too. I felt the catheter moving around my lung, and I felt it bumping around as it moved. I must have had 10 shots of painkiller. From listening to the doctor, I didn’t feel everything --now and then she’d say, “Did you feel that?” And I had to say “no”. Still, I was in much more pain than I was during the last two thoracentesises. (thoracentesi? Thoracentesium?)
The third thing was to apply suction to remove the fluid that’s causing the trouble. When the suction started, I felt changes immediately, and felt pressure in my chest and was having trouble breathing. I felt like I was getting no air, and couldn’t take a deep breath. Then as seconds passed, I couldn’t take a breath at all. Every time I’d inhale, I’d cough. Then I couldn’t even inhale enough air to cough and got a little panicky. (No air = panicky. Can you imagine?) The doctor said that I was getting plenty of oxygen, the machine attached to my finger said so, but if I was in pain or extreme discomfort, that we’d stop. Since I was in extreme discomfort (there’s a tube in my back, I can’t breathe, I’m coughing so hard I can’t talk OR breathe, yes, sounds like extreme discomfort), we stopped. And then I felt bad because we’d spent 10-15 minutes getting “numb” for this procedure and it lasted less than 5 minutes.
Dr. W. was able to extract a little over a half liter of fluid before we had to stop. It was not as much as I was hoping for, but I couldn’t tolerate the procedure any longer. Dr. W. and the nurses said that sometimes the lung lining gets very sensitive after a thoracentesis, and apparently, mine was.
I felt bad that we’d all wasted time, manpower, effort, equipment, and medicine on a procedure that may or may not make me feel better in a day or so. Dr. W. said that she felt bad that she could not make me comfortable enough to endure this procedure. Dr. W. also said that if we do this again, we’ll do it differently.
I don’t know that I’ll do this again.
Stupid cancer.
News
Finally, there is news. It’s not good news, so if you’re squeamish, stop reading.
The results of the CT scan on May 9 show that there are more spots on my liver, and the original spots have grown. The Alimta is not working. It is unclear at this point whether the Alimta slowed the growths, or if it was completely ineffective. We’ll never know.
So now I am on 3rd line chemo, a place that very few people reach. My new drug is Tarceva, available only through special order by doctors. It comes in pill form, and I’ll take one pill a day. I’ll go for a follow up visit every couple of weeks after starting the Tarceva, and later, once a month. After 3 months on Tarceva, I’ll have another CT scan to check on the progress. The major side effects are: rash on the face, neck, back and chest, diarrhea, loss of appetite, and fatigue. (I was told to hope for the rash; the people who get the rash tend to have success.) This drug has been shown to be effective in 20% of the people who take it (women have more success than men), and a very select few have very dramatic results: Asian women who have never smoked. I fit only one of those categories.
If the Tarceva does not work, my next step is to become a lab rat and join in research studies through
If there is good news, it’s that for now anyway, no more IV procedures. And I’ll get to keep my hair.
Thanks for being here. I wish the news was better.
No news
As of this writing, there is no news regarding the CT scan I had on May 9th. I called the doctor’s office yesterday and left a message with the medical assistant (who is awesome, by the way), and have not yet heard from her. It’s been a week, which is the usual amount of time that it takes for a test to be taken and the results known. I’m assuming (uh-oh) that no news is good news. (I’ve had the situation where I took a test in the morning and by early afternoon, had the results. And it was bad news.) Moving on. . .
On the last post, I said that foods tasted salty to me. (It took a couple of days to figure out what the taste actually was and why everything was unappealing. A slow learner, I am.) Salty things were not more salty, in fact, they were the only things that tasted right. But salty cookies were no fun, so I didn’t eat them. Salty chocolate milk was just bizarre, so I didn’t drink that. I did still eat, and often, too. Sometimes I’d get so hungry that I’d want to eat everything in sight. So I’d get something to eat, really load up the ol’ plate, and end up eating only about half of it. This has been going on for weeks (WEEKS!) and I am just now learning to give myself small portions. These are not tiny portions, mind you, these are probably the recommended daily allowance portions, which I should have been eating all along. I am happy to report that food now tastes like it should. (It's a mixed blessing, if you know what I mean.) So I’m going to enjoy that while I can, which will be until Tuesday. Tuesday I get more Happy Juice, and the chemo will make food taste weird again. It’s always something.
Addendum: It's Friday afternoon, and I just heard from the oncologist’s office. The good doctor has been out of town all week and has not read the radiologist’s report on the CT scan. Since the oncologist is the only one who can read the report and give the news, we still have no information. The medical assistant who called me said that she would try her best to get the word to me on Monday, since I have a treatment scheduled for Tuesday. But in the meantime, and in the spirit of hope, we are believing that no news is good news. And then we are going to go eat cookies.
Current events
Here's what's happening these days:
Apparently, most of my taste buds are on vacation. Lately, most food tastes salty to me. Foods like bread, cookies, chocolate, and coffee. Toothpaste, even. All salty. I don’t know if it’s a result of the chemo (most likely, I guess), or if the planets are out of alignment. No wonder I don’t want to eat anything. Oh, I do, of course, sometimes out of hunger and sometimes out of boredom. My current favorite juice is cranberry-grape. For some reason, that sweet and tart combination is very appealing, and it’s not salty.
I have noticed that my skin is looking different these days, too. It’s drier and thinner, and needs more moisturizer than before. Where the radiation hit me on the front, that skin looks and feels like parchment paper. It’s tannish, dry and papery. The skin on the back where the radiation burn was the worst, is dry and papery, too, and very sensitive to touch. And the spot where Mr. Needle went in on my back is still a bit sore, too.
Which brings me to another point: I think I may have to visit with Mr. Needle again. The pressure in my chest is still an annoyance (sort of like a nail in the foot is an annoyance), and it needs to go. If this pressure is caused from more fluid buildup, then another meeting is in order. If it’s caused by something else (the tumor or general lung inflammation), then I’ll have to use Plan B, which I haven’t made yet. I won’t know which it is until I talk with the doctor, which I will do when the CT scan results come in. (No news yet on that. Y’all relax, I’ll post the news when I get it. These things take time, and in the meantime, remember that no news is good news. )
Another Sunday
It’s Sunday, and I can’t believe that I haven’t posted anything in nearly a week. No news is good news, but still, it seems like I could have thought of something to post! I guess I was busy living the good life. Huh. Let’s see what happened this week:
I got chemo’d up on Tuesday, and what a special day that was! As it happened, Tuesday was my birthday, and I got lots of sympathy—for which, I’m not sure. I also got lots of well wishes, several cards, some balloons, and some wonderful edibles. YUM. Thank you to all who thought of me.
Wednesday and Thursday were regular days; I worked all day and came home and crashed. No cooking, no errands, no cleaning. Too tired.
On Friday I was comatose for the whole day. Just exhausted. I didn’t want to eat, drink, move, or talk. That’s the usual response to chemo. Oh, I CAN move, but I really, really don’t want to. The effort that it takes just to walk across the room to let the dog in is enough to tire me out enough for an hour long nap. Sometimes my heart races (100 bpm) for no reason, and I just have to sit and wait it out. I feel much better when I eat, but preparing something uses up too much energy, so then I’m too tired to eat it. (Thank God for
Saturday was a carbon copy of Friday. Now it’s Sunday, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to live again.
Coming up this week, I have a CT scan scheduled for the 9th, and I’m hoping to learn some good news from that. (The results will come a few days after the test--- oh boy, more waiting!) This is the test that will show how well (or not) this new chemo drug is working. Y’all keep your fingers crossed. Toes, too.
Thanks for being here.
