It’s Friday night, and I’ve been quite lethargic all day, like I’m literally running out of juice. Because I am. The chemo eats up all the cells in my blood stream, good and bad, and I coast on whatever’s left. The best way to describe it is to imagine wearing clothing made out of lead. The clothes are heavy and hard to move around in, but manageable for short periods. As long as I just sit and don’t move, I feel pretty good. But when I have to get up (and you know that I do), it’s quite an effort.
So far, the biggest effect of this chemo is the fatigue. I have noticed some puffiness here and there, some achiness, an odd itchy rash, and some acne-like bumps on my face; all pretty minor things. The fatigue is the worst on Fridays, but by Monday, I’m much, much better. I still have my hair, and there’s something else: my eyelashes are thicker than they’ve ever been. Quite a change from a year ago when I didn’t have any at all.
Yes, it’s been over a year of living with cancer. And I am finally taking care of something that should have been taken care of years ago. I’m making a will. Eventually, I’m going to need it, so now’s a good time. Boy, what a lot of people to think about: the executor, the trustee, the power of attorney, the health care power of attorney. And these people should not be chosen lightly: they are the ones responsible for making decisions on another’s behalf. Mine, in this case, so I want those people to know my wishes and carry them out as well as they can. And then there’s the personal property to deal with. Honestly, who wants my music? My old paperback books? My pretty red plates? It’s funny (and you know that I mean not funny at all) that I thought that I didn’t have much, really; just a small houseful of house stuff—ordinary clothing, regular furniture and appliances, nothing classic or antique, it’s just stuff. But it’s mine, and I have to decide what happens to it. The lazy dog is no help whatsoever. We even had a conversation about it:
Me: So who do you think will want this jar of seashells?
Dog:
Me: What about my favorite coffee cup?
Dog:
Somehow I get the impression that as long as he gets the occasional doggy cheese snack, all will be right in his world.
I have to say, that a lot is right in my world, too, even on these rough days. I have family and friends who care, plenty to eat, a job to go to, and hope for the future. Not too shabby, I think.
Another one down
Tuesday’s chemo was one of the better ones, I must admit. The needle stick for the bloodwork was done by a very competent lab technician who was gentle, and the needle stick for the chemo IV was nearly painless. I was surprised; I’d forgotten that sometimes those pokes don’t make me claw the furniture. There was only one tiny incident, not even hardly worth mentioning, but I will anyway. About 5 minutes after the chemo was initially administered, my arm started to ache, like it had a very heavy weight on it with increasing pressure. I summoned my nurse, who adjusted the drip to a slower speed, and voila’. Problem solved.
I wish they could all be resolved that easily. It’s (finally) dawned on me that much of my life is out of my control, and spinning faster all the time. I seem to be having some coping issues here lately—too much anger, too much denial, too much being too-%$#@-tired-of-being-sick, too little sleep, and my family is paying for that. I yelled at my youngest son the other night for a teenage transgression, and once started, couldn’t stop and said WAYYYYY too much, most of which had nothing to do with him. I ignored the warnings and spewed through my own “stop talking or you’ll be sorry” filter so fast that I left a singed, gaping hole in it. Ouch. The next day I apologized for my outburst, but I still feel bad about it. Yes, I know my life is stressful. Yes, I know an occasional meltdown is to be expected. Yes, I know that I don’t have to hold it in/carry it/put a pretty face on it, although I try to. Because I’m insane, that’s why.
I learned something this weekend! I decided that I’d give this ol’ body a break from all the ibuprofen (stockholders, relax), and take some Aleve at night. It claims to give 8 -12 hour relief from pain, and guess how long I sleep! Coincidence? I think not. So, anyway, at 8 pm on Thursday night, I took 1 tablet on a full belly. (I already learned that lesson.) In a while, I noticed that I was not in pain and not coughing and was excited about finally getting some good, uninterrupted sleep. I awoke every hour, nearly on the hour, all night long. All night long. But, to be fair, I was pain free.
Today is Saturday, and I’m lying around the house. This chemo medicine doesn’t make me ache all over, but it does make me incredibly tired. The good thing is that by tomorrow, I’ll feel a little better, and by Monday, will be able to go to work . And then, of course, on Tuesday, I get hit again. Yeah, boy, I can’t wait.
Thanks for being here.
Whine-O-Meter rating: 5
I ended up surviving the weekend after all, although it seemed to be touch and go there for a while. I’d forgotten just what a punch IV chemo has. Thursday night I was feeling the first effects, but went to work on Friday morning anyway. Since I thought that I could tolerate the effects for a little while, I planned on working for a half day. There I was, thinking again! Oh, I made it, but it was hard. I was very happy to go home and rest. I don’t know that I’ll work on Friday morning again; after all, there’s no need to be stupid about this, is there? (I’ve been called a lot of things, but never “slow learner”!)
I’m trying not to think about tomorrow (my next chemo), but I’m dreading it already. I am still bruised and sore from last week’s stabbings. I’m still feeling the effects of last week’s chemo, so I can only imagine how this weeks’ chemo will add to that. I don’t know when I’ll be feeling better from this new procedure. Last summer when I was getting Happy Juice every 21 days, it took a full week before I felt human again. I don’t have that luxury of recovery time on this go-round. I know I must sound ungrateful, but I'm not. I am very thankful to have a new drug to try-- this may be the one that heals me-- but I dread getting stomped every week. However, that’s what chemo does. And on the plus side, I’m not nauseated, I’ll probably get to keep my hair, and my face doesn’t itch or burn. So there.
Thanks for being here. There is great comfort in knowing that others care.
Killer Friday
I went to work Friday morning, feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. My neck, back, shoulders, and skin ached (and for some reason, my calf muscles), and I was very, very tired. Yes, it would have been very easy to call in sick today, and everyone would have understood and supported that decision. So why did I go? Because I can’t just let the beast win. Ol’ Skippy still needs to know that there’s a battle raging here, and I intend to fight with all I’ve got. And that includes trying to keep life as normal as possible by going to work, lecturing my kids, and eating on a regular basis. I worked for only half a day. After all, I can only fight for so long and then I must stop.
I’ve already visited with Mr. Motrin and he’s not quite the miracle worker that he was last week. I do have stronger painkillers, but they either put me to sleep and/or make me throw up, neither of which is my favorite activity. The anti-nausea drugs that I was given on chemo day work pretty well for a couple of days. Care to guess when they wear off? Yup. So maybe Mr. Couch and Ms. Crackers will be good companions this weekend. This would be a very good weekend to have the live-in housekeeper, but all I can afford is my lazy dog to keep me company. He’s a very good napping buddy, after all, and I’m certain to be doing quite a bit of that!
Thanks for being here. I’ll try to post again later.
Here we go again
It’s Tuesday afternoon, after the chemo treatment. It was just as I remembered: I walked in to the doctor’s office, signed in, made small talk with the receptionist, then I was called to the torture chamber lab where I was weighed and then poked with a needle to give up 3 vials of blood. When I saw the doctor in the exam room, we discussed pain medication, the possibility of thoracentesis # 6, then we decided that we’d spent enough time looking through my novel of a chart and he walked me to the Chemo Lounge.
I found a nice recliner next to a handsome and quiet gentleman, and I waited for my turn to see the nurse. Once she had pried my arms out for inspection, she determined that one of my veins looked pretty good for today’s IV, so she slid the needle right in. And then it got stuck. So she wiggled it around a bit to see if the flow would improve. It didn't. There was nothing going in, and nothing coming out. This was not good. I remember this happening once before, and the solution was the same for this time: She took the needle out and found a new vein with a new needle. (The new vein bled like a stuck pig.) So I got stuck twice for the IV. Yup, just like old times.
The new schedule is chemo once a week for 3 weeks, then a week off. After 3 months, there will be another CT scan to determine if the gemcitabine is working. The good news is that I don’t have to have that after-chemo shot -- hallelujah! (I hated that as much as the chemo itself.) Friday or Saturday I should be feeling the effects of this chemo, so my friends Mr. Couch and Mr. Motrin may be seeing a lot of me then.
Thank you, my friends, for being here for me on this leg of the journey. I could not do this alone, and your support helps me more than I can say.
Boy, am I dreading next Tuesday! I’m scheduled to get back on chemo that day, and I just don’t want to. I am not looking forward to more needle sticks for bloodwork, more needle sticks for the IV, more time in the Chemo Lounge (nice as it is), and more side effects from the treatments. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: It feels good not being on chemo. (Whoa! Did you see that lightning just barely miss me?)
Yes, I am fortunate (and happy) that my options have not run out, and that I have a new drug to try. (It’s possible that the side effects from the gemcitabine will be minimal, and I will have anguished in vain.) I am also grateful that my workplace has been kind and understanding of this disease and my time away from work. I have friends and family that cheerfully help me with daily living, food, repairs, errands, and whatever I else I need or think I need. I have much to be thankful for, and I truly am.
But I’m still dreading Tuesday.
Hello again, everyone!
Yes, I’m healing from the latest meeting with Mr. Needle, although I still don’t remember much about it. (Maybe that’s the way it should be…?) I don’t have the pain in my left lung anymore, but I do have a little in the right lung and pressure in my chest whenever I walk around. Those are the specific aches; I tend to just ache all over if I don’t take ibuprofen every 6 hours throughout the day. I feel better when I do: the aches go away, my throat stops feeling raw, and the cough keeps to a minimum. Still not too late to buy stock!
Lately, and because of the fluid around my heart (the doc thinks), my feet and ankles have been swelling. One day the swelling was so much that my feet didn’t even look like mine! So I’ve been given a diuretic to take to rid my body of excess fluid. It’s called furosemide, and so far, it’s helping with the fluid in my feet. I’m waiting to see if it will help with the fluid around my heart as well. I just started taking it on Friday, so I’ll give it a week or so to do its magic.
Something else that’s new: Most of the time I feel full, like I’ve just eaten a huge meal, even when I’ve had nothing. I don’t know if it’s my liver or the tumor pressing up against my stomach, or the alignment of the planets, or what. It’s annoying as #@%&, but does not hurt. So instead of 3 meals, I eat a little bit many times a day. Soup seems to fill me up the fastest, but anything else I can eat a bit more of. I still can’t figure that out. Yesterday I had an apple for lunch, and didn’t want anything else for hours because I was full. From an apple. In all fairness to the apple, it was a fist-sized Red Delicious, but still. I even thought that I may lose a little weight, y’know, just as a perk. Oh, silly me.
(Of course there’s an exception: for Labor Day, Mom had a feast in honor of some visiting relatives. There was lots of food, and I ate more than I’d eaten in days. So maybe the answer is just to eat Mom’s cooking?)
Thanks for being here. You all keep me strong, moving forward, and encouraged. Yes, even you over there.
