# 5 is O-V-E-R
Yes, it’s true, y’all, the latest meeting with Mr. Needle is now history. And thank God for it. (And I did.) All in all, it was a piece of cake, at least what I remember about it.
As y’all may remember, during a previous procedure, I had a panic attack when I couldn’t breathe. So, for the next time, I was prescribed some Xanax to help me relax. I had a .5 milligram dose, which is so tiny that even I scoffed at it. However, it worked really well; I was relaxed enough to tolerate the procedure very well, with no panic. For this time, I was prescribed a 1 milligram dose, one pill for the night before and one for the day of the procedure. So the night before I took 1 pill, slept horribly, and was worried about whether I’d wake up in time for my appointment (so much for those anti-anxiety properties!). In the morning, I took the 2nd pill, per my instructions. Well. Just call me Loopy Lou. I couldn’t think, could barely walk, still don’t remember the ride to my mother’s house afterward. Thank you, B. for getting me to and fro safely. (I hope I didn’t sing or otherwise offend you!)
The procedure went well, I suppose, heck, l slept through most of it. I do remember swearing an entire phrase aloud when that first shot of Lidocaine hit, but after that I was quiet. I could feel the doctors and nurses puttering around on my back, taping and cleaning and draping and pressing, but I was so out of it that they could have been doing the cha-cha back there and I’d never have known. At some point, I felt lots of pressure in my chest and couldn’t breathe, so I told the doctor to stop. He stopped temporarily and waited for a few minutes and tried again, but I still couldn’t stand the pressure. So we stopped. I was told that we got 800 somethings of fluid out this time, more than ever before, so that was good. (Hey, I was loopy at this point & just don’t remember.) As usual, there was the chest x-ray afterward, which I apparently slept through standing up, and the next thing I remember was sipping a Sprite through a straw. Somehow I got dressed and was handed back over to B., who took me to my mother’s house, where I spent the next couple of hours checking the quality of her couch pillows. After some lunch, Mom brought me home, where my research continued on my own couch pillows.
Not a bad day at all. And now, the couch is calling me again. Thanks for being here.
It’s a short entry tonight, y’all. It’s been a rough day. I felt awful all day, and the doctor’s report didn’t help much. So, here’s what we’ve been waiting for:
The CT scan shows that the chemo pills are not working. There are bigger spots on my liver. There is also fluid in my left lung, in the right lung, and around my heart. The fluid around the heart is something new, but we don’t yet know if it necessarily means trouble.
The plan for now is: Thoracentesis #5, scheduled for Monday, August 27. How I feel afterward will determine what we do about the fluid around my heart. If I still feel awful, we’ll do another echocardiogram to see how much fluid there is and make a plan at that time. If I feel pretty good, then we’ll wait and watch. (The echocardiogram in July showed a little fluid around my heart, nothing to write home about, but there’s more now.)
The next new drug in my life will be gemcitabine, a cancer fighter that is administered via IV, once a week for 3 weeks, and then 1 week off. According to my oncologist, this drug has a good track record for working well with few side effects.
That’s the news. The good news is that, once again, there’s a plan.
Thanks for being here.
(Note to Auntie M: I'm sorry you heard bad news. I'm still kicking! Love you!)
The CT scan is now history. I’ll learn the results next week, which (of course) I’ll post. This test will show if the daily chemo regimen is working. (The scan went well, the worst part is drinking the contrast liquid beforehand. The IV isn’t much fun, either, but that’s easier than drinking the 2 containers of that slick, slippery, sweetish, thicker-than-milk-but thinner-than-a-milkshake goo. Awful stuff.) Keep your fingers crossed, y’all. If the daily chemo is not working, then I’ll have to make arrangements to become a guinea pig for Duke or UNC hospital. If it is working, then I guess I continue taking the Tablets O’ Gold for the rest of my life. Happily.
I’m still doing OK; although I’m tired all the time now. Resting is my new hobby. I can’t breathe if I walk and talk at the same time, and I can certainly tell when the air quality is a Code Orange! On these extremely hot and humid summer days, I have real trouble breathing. I can’t carry much over a pound without it being a struggle, so I employ others to fetch and carry when I can. (My lazy dog is no good for that. I’ve tried.) My appetite is still OK, although sausage and pizza have completely lost their appeal. Come to think of it, I have not had any dark chocolate in days. (Oh, how the mighty have fallen!) Saltine crackers with peanut butter are very appealing, and have been a staple for me lately. I’m always up for some good egg drop soup as well. Sometimes I think I’m very hungry, but then only eat a small portion of what’s on the plate. Other times, I can eat an adult-sized plateful. I just never know what to expect.
I know I can expect y’all to be right here with me, pulling me through the days. All the prayers, happy thoughts, cards, letters, food, jokes, flowers, balloons—all of it—go such a long way in keeping me sane(ish) and moving forward. Thank you. And you, over there in the corner, thank you too.
I know, I know, it’s been a week since the last posting. I’ve been told that I need to post more often, even if just to say “nothing’s happening.” I’ll try. Today, I’ll give y’all what you’re just dying to have: a play-by-play account of my day. (Aren’t you glad you came?)
5:45 a.m.: the alarm goes off, and is immediately silenced into snooze mode.
5:52 a.m.: The alarm goes off again, and I snooze some more. This goes on a couple more times.
Finally, just a little after 6 a.m., I drag myself out of bed and hit the shower. Then it’s Cheerios, pantyhose, pet the dog, and out the door.
By 7:30 a.m., I’m at work, where I’ll stay for a few hours. Lately, it’s been about 4 hours, but sometimes 5. I’m working my way back to full days. I hope I make it. Work is good; for a few hours, I’m not a cancer patient, I’m an office worker with a job to do.
Sometime in the early afternoon, I wave good-bye to my co-workers, and I leave for the day, homeward bound. When I get home, I change into my jeans and t-shirt, have a quick lunch, and answer the call of the couch. Sometimes I nap, sometimes I just rest quietly for 20 minutes or so. Then I usually turn on the TV and watch something mindless for a couple of hours, while staying on the couch. No errands, no cleaning, no laundry. Just resting. My lazy dog usually rests nearby. He seems to like having a napping buddy.
When absolutely necessary, I leave my beloved couch to get to the doctor, or the grocery store, but as soon as possible, I get right back on it. It gets lonely without me.
At some point, I decide that dinner is in order, and either send someone out to get it, reheat leftovers, or fix something very simple. It’s a real treat when someone brings dinner to me—homemade or restaurant-made—it’s all good, and I am very thankful to receive it!
After dinner, I’m back on the couch for a little while, usually wondering how early is too early to go to bed. Lately, I’m checking out at about 9 p.m. I read for a few minutes, send up a prayer giving thanks for today and requesting strength for tomorrow, and soon the snoring begins.
So there it is: the fabulous life here at the House of Endless Dog Hair and Dirty Dishes. Thanks for sharing my day!
¶ 12:27 PM 0 comments
