Margaretsnews

2007-11-01T12:53:00.000-07:00

This is from her son since Margaret is no longer able to post on here. So, here's the update. Margaret passed away Wednesday afternoon during surgery to drain fluid from around her heart and from her lungs. The surgery went fine, it was at the end when her heart rate went down and blood pressure fell also. The surgeons tried to bring her back for over an hour, unfortunately no luck. She went into the hospital on Monday afternoon because of hard breathing and her feet and legs were swollen. The doctors thought she might have had an infection in her legs but we never knew the answer to that. She was transferred to a different hospital for the surgery, where we were told that there was a 95% success rate. I guess that she was one of the 4 people that it just didn't work for. The surgeon did say that even if the surgery had been a success, that we should cherish every moment with her because it would have been unlikely that she would have lived past Thanksgiving, or Christmas at the longest. However, this was very unexpected and took us all by surprise. Our family has had about all of this that we can stand. Last Thursday Margaret's dad passed away as well.

I know she loved having this blog open to people to get information out as well as reading the comments that she got in reply. I will try to remember to post another update when all of this settles down and we figure some of this out. Thank You for all of your caring and understanding, we all know she will be missed greatly. R.I.P. Margaret May 1, 1959 --October 31, 2007

2007-10-24T13:45:00.000-07:00

Yes, it was Chemo Tuesday yesterday. I got the good techs this time who used small needles, and well-aiming chemo nurses. Those pesky veins are getting sneaky these days and want to hide, not that I blame them. Now I get to look forward to a week with no chemo! And you know that I do.

This chemo gives me a red face, a strange rash, a bloated, pregnant-looking belly (oh, relax!), fabulous fingernails, and fatigue. Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays I literally sleep 13-15 hours a day (12 hours at night frequently), and I rest on the couch for the rest of the time. I’m also gaining weight. I told my doctor that I don’t eat enough to be gaining weight at this rate, and when he just looked at me, I allowed that all 40+ women say that, but when I recapped just what I do eat, he had to agree with me. He reminded me that fluid (in my lung, around my heart, in my feet), has weight and volume and perhaps that may be what’s showing up on the scale. Of course, he’s not concerned--he’s not the one who has to go shopping.

I still have swollen feet; I learned yesterday that it could be due to the chemo drug. One of the chemo nurses told me that every patient she’s had that was on the Gemcitobine gets swollen feet. Of course, the swelling could be caused by other issues as well, so we can’t rule anything out completely, but that info is good to have. I have noticed that foods with high sodium content tend to make it worse (surprise!) so I’m thinking that I probably should avoid them. Of course, that includes soup, most restaurant food, and all fast food. Guess I’ll have to survive on steamed chicken and broccoli. Huh. Guess again.

Since I can't put off the Mom and Dad update any longer, here it is: The scheduled procedure is healed enough to be at home, and doing very well. There is still a lot of rest and medicine to be had, which is frustrating (after all, once home, we should be all healed, right?). The illness has come home also, but I am sorry to report, has only gotten worse, and will not get better. Medicine will no longer heal, so it’s time to bring in home care and comfort. There are difficult days ahead. I am extremely grateful to V. and J. for all their help during this difficult time. If not for them, I’d be making decisions that I may be uninformed on or too sick to make. They have also been the advocates for my parents, making sure that they each got what they needed during their respective hospital stays, kept the house running, and kept people informed of progress and daily happenings. Saying “thank you” doesn’t nearly cover it, but it’s all I can do.

Thank you all for being here as well. I am still overwhelmed at the amount of support I get and very grateful to have it.

2007-10-18T11:39:00.000-07:00

Remember Mom’s Advice

Today is Thursday and I’m at home, recuping after yesterday’s thoracentesis. Usually I go to work the day after, but yesterday was. . .oh, let’s call it “special”.

I took the Xanax so that I wouldn’t fight the surgery. Then I hopped into T.’s van so she could drive me there and back. Once we arrived, I signed some papers (could have been for the surgery or to have cement delivered, I don’t know), and then I was taken back to where the action happens. As usual, I changed into the hospital gown, hit the ladies’ room, and went into the surgical area. The procedure began and all went well for a few minutes. Dr. K. had the suction on “slow”, since my reputation had preceded me. So far, so good. And then the pressure began, along with the cough. And then I had to stop. So I told them to stop for just a minute so I could get a good breath, and maybe my chest would stop hurting. Dr. K. stopped –I actually felt him move away from me—and then in a minute we started again. For about 15 seconds. The pressure in my chest was too much, and I told them we just had to stop for good. So Dr. K. removed the equipment, and the very next thing I remember was lying on the gurney, flat on my back, confused and in pain. Well. This is new. “What happened?” One of the nurses sweetly replied that I’d fainted. With a smile on her face, she said, ”When you say that you’re ready to stop, you’re not kidding!” And we all had a laugh. Since I was in pain, I was trying find a more comfortable position, and realized that my pants were wet. Of course I had to ask. The sweet nurse kindly replied that when people faint, they generally do wet themselves. Y’all, I had peed all over myself when I fainted. No kidding. At least my socks stayed dry. And then I was offered some designer hospital wear (read: scrubs) for the ride home, for which I was very grateful. So y’all, there I was in pain, a puncture wound in my back, a cough, and wet from here down. Then, while those compassionate nurses were changing my pants, the nausea hit. Repeatedly.

Yeah, it was a special day, all right.

Eventually, I was able to withstand sitting up long enough for the nurses to get the rest of my clothes on-- yup, I’m over 40 and still can’t dress myself-- and wheel me out to T.’s van for the ride home. The nausea and vomiting continued until I could get some anti-nausea medicine in me. That stuff works! Then I was able to enjoy my dinner of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle soup and ginger ale.

And as promised, I’m counting my blessings: Thanks to T. for driving me, going to the store, babysitting me all day long, and petting my lazy dog. Thanks to Dr. K. who stopped the procedure when I asked him to. Thanks to those kind and wonderful nurses who made me feel like I was no trouble at all even though I was. Thanks to all who called and thought about me during what was a difficult day. And thanks to you for being here, laughing and crying with me.

2007-10-16T17:52:00.000-07:00

Brie, Gouda, or Smokey Cheddar?

I know it’s been a week since my last posting. The truth is, it was a miserable weekend, and I didn’t even feel good enough to whine about it, which says something. Here’s what’s happening.

Since I still have Miss Piggy feet in spite of the diuretics, my doctor decided to schedule me for an echocardiogram, which is similar to an ultrasound, but of the heart. It’s not unpleasant at all: lie on the table, get some warm goo on the skin, and someone with a wand thingie (yes, that’s the technical term) rolls it around and generates pictures on a computer screen. My job was to lie there quietly. Sometimes the technicians would talk about what was on the screen (“See? That’s the mitral valve. We want a picture of that,”) and other times they were very, very quiet. Yes, I know what it means when they are quiet. I also know that they won’t tell me a darn thing. Once I left that office, I went home for some lunch, and debated as to whether or not to return to work. The phone rang, and it was the oncologist’s office. They had the results already, and wanted to know how quickly I could get over to Radiology for a chest x-ray. I was there in 20 minutes. (Sorry, co-workers!) Once I left Radiology, I headed over to Oncology because it’s Chemo Tuesday, and I hadn’t been pushed over the edge just yet. My oncologist was out of town so I saw another one in the practice. Dr. S. decided that since I had fluid around my heart, and fluid in my lung, there was just no need to add more fluid in the form of chemo, and wanted a thoracentesis performed today. As in right now, if the doctors could squeeze me in. After giving it about 2 seconds’ thought, I declined that offer. After all, I’ve been feeling this pressure for weeks now, what’s one more day? So thoracentesis # 6 is scheduled for Wednesday morning. Yes, tomorrow. And yes, I did get chemo today. But I had to fight for it. (Am I insane?)

All in all, it’s been a very hard week, physically and emotionally. During chemo weekend, I was exhausted, swollen, bloated, cranky, and developed an odd red rash. I couldn’t visit with Mom & Dad as often as I wanted to and that was frustrating. Talking on the phone is difficult for the three of us, so even when we did communicate that way, it was frequently more confusing than anything. The good news is that Mom and Dad are better, so that’s less stress. The illness finally has a name and is treatable, so it got treated and sent home. The scheduled procedure is in the customary rehab, and is doing very well. It’s hard for me to visit either of them; just walking to the door or down the hall is quite a strain and sometimes I just have to stop and rest. I swear, if it wasn’t happening to me, I wouldn’t believe it.

I promise that tomorrow I’ll be gracious and count my many blessings. But for tonight I’m just going to whine. Pass the cheese.

2007-10-10T17:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was chemo Tuesday. Yup, it’s back to the once a week chemo. While I didn’t go back in kicking and screaming (no energy for all that!), I certainly was dreading going. I also got a shot yesterday since I’m just a tad anemic which would explain the constant fatigue even after no chemo for a week. So maybe next week I’ll have the energy to kick and scream, we’ll see.

Tuesday’s phlebotomist (the one who draws blood for the blood work), was excellent. She is so gentle that it’s more like a mosquito bite (ha!) than a hornet sting. The chemo nurses were also very gentle; the current problem is that my veins are starting to protest being stabbed on a regular basis. They collapse, roll, and just plain disappear from sight. So the nurses have to look, evaluate, and coax my veins to stand up and be brave. I wish I could encourage my veins, but I’m the captain of the USS Chicken, so no help from me.

Today, at least at this writing, I’m feeling pretty good. Better than I have in many days. It feels good to feel good. Oh, I know that it’s the lull before the storm, but I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts. I’m still taking ibuprofen, but not every 6 hours like I was before, simply because I don’t need it that often. Sometimes I only need it once a day. I’m still working half days, and still resting at home once I get there. Now and then I’ll do some laundry, because it’s easy to throw some clothing in a metal box, and then 40 minutes later, throw it in another metal box. But for the most part, I’m quite friendly with the couch once I get home.

Before I forget, I’ll update on Mom & Dad. The scheduled procedure went remarkably well, no surprises at all, which makes surgery easy for everyone. Now it’s over to rehab for physical and occupational therapy, and then probably home by the end of the week. The illness was quite serious for several days, but after a barrage of unrelated tests, the issue has been found and is treatable. Once again, it looks like the end of the week will bring that one home as well. So both Mom & Dad will be home, with live-in help, and I’m feeling pretty darn good about that. So, I say thanks to V. and J. for coming to stay with Mom & Dad. I’m very grateful. I’m also grateful that if all this hospitalization had to happen, I’m glad it was on my off-chemo week, so I could visit with them and stay updated.

I am still so very grateful for all the continued support that I get. Thank you all for keeping me encouraged in this ever-changing adventure.

Addendum: As of this writing, the scheduled procedure has gotten an infection, so it's antibiotics and pain pills to the rescue. I did not go visit today, as both of us were worn out, but I'll try to visit tomorrow. The illness is getting much better, but (of course), there is a minor setback as well. Fortunately, it can be treated, so that's one less worry. Huh. Parents --who knew they'd be this unpredictable?

2007-10-04T11:00:00.000-07:00

I have to say that I am truly enjoying this week off from chemo treatments. Well, maybe “enjoying” is too strong a word. I can say that it sure does feel good when the beatings stop. There are still issues; they're just not as difficult to deal with.

My feet still swell when I forget to take the diuretic—it takes a couple of days to kick in, so when I miss a day, I have to wait for results. In the meantime, my poor feet look like balloon feet, and they are tender to the touch. Walking around is uncomfortable, but once I get up and get moving, it gets easier. And it’s not like I’m walking very far or very fast anyway. I still can’t breathe well, can’t walk and talk at the same time (could be a blessing!) and can’t carry anything over about a pound easily. I feel fairly certain that the next meeting with Mr. Needle is quickly forthcoming, but I have bigger fish to fry at the moment.

My bigger fish involve family members. Both parents are currently in the same hospital, one for a scheduled procedure, and the other for illness. I decided to share this information because this blog is a record of events for me for my progress, state of mind and attitude. While I don’t record every detail, I do record enough so that when I look back, I can remember exactly what happened when, how I felt, and what I did. I can only imagine, at this point, how my parents’ health will affect me, and I wanted to open that door for future thoughts. (The scheduled procedure is doing very well. The illness remains serious.) Mom and Dad are just down the hall from each other, so visitation is easy. Fortunately, there are other family members here on extended leave to help care for them during and after the hospital stays are over. I am very glad they are here. Due to my superior coping skills and rational thinking abilities lately, I am dealing with this new development by stomping, yelling, and swearing. A lot. (Note: my parents and the dog are safe.)

Yes, life really is like a box of chocolates.

2007-09-28T17:15:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-09-22T12:55:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-09-17T17:12:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-09-14T09:27:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-09-11T17:10:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-09-07T13:50:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-09-03T16:35:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-08-27T16:33:00.000-07:00

# 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 2^nd 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.

2007-08-21T18:13:00.000-07:00

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!)

2007-08-16T13:11:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-08-09T12:27:00.000-07:00

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!

2007-07-31T13:43:00.000-07:00

I can’t believe I have not posted anything in a week. Once again, that’s good news, y’all, it means that nothing’s happening. I do have a bit of reflection, though. . .

One year ago, July 27, 2006, I was all ready for some major surgery to remove the lower lobe of my left lung. That surgery never happened, and I have had a very interesting and sometimes heartbreaking journey since then. But I have experienced so much that was good in this year! There were co-workers who came together, time and time again, to help me. There were friends who stood me back up when I crumpled. There was my family who inspired me every day to keep up this fight. If I’d been well, I’d have missed it all. And since this journey is not yet over, I’m hoping there is more good stuff to come.

I had an appointment with my oncologist on Monday. We discussed my bloodwork, my dry skin, my appetite, the latest thoracentesis. The good doctor listened to me breathe, and informed me that there was still a good bit of fluid in my lung. (And we all know what that means.) My next scheduled procedure will be a CT scan on August 13, and I’ll get the results on August 21. Overall, it was determined that I’m in good shape for the shape I’m in! Monday was a VERY good day for me; I felt better than I’d felt in weeks. Instead of wondering why, I decided to follow some advice, given here on this very blog: “Don’t look too hard at good news.”

So that’s the latest. No bad news, no swearing, no expectations. Thanks for being here.

2007-07-24T14:06:00.000-07:00

It’s a quick entry today, y’all. It’s been a rough couple of days. Constant (although not intense) pain, fatigue, difficulty breathing, not nearly enough sleep….like I said, rough couple of days.

I have news, however.

On Wednesday, I’m scheduled for another thoracentesis. This will be # 4. You can imagine how thrilled I am to have this procedure again. I honestly never had a choice, though; the sooner I have it done, the sooner the cough and the back pain will stop. Maybe it’ll help with the fatigue also, who knows? I have a prescription for some Xanax which I’ll take an hour before the procedure. Maybe that’ll keep me calm and from having another panic attack when I can’t breathe. I have a driver to and from, so that’s covered (thank you, E!).

After whining for a couple of days about having to see Mr. Needle again, I’ve come to realize a couple of things (with help, of course, sometimes I can’t see the forest for the trees). 1. Despite the whining, I am grateful that I CAN have this procedure. 2. I am grateful that there is medicine that will relax me to the point of distraction. Or further. 3. I am grateful to have friends who will point these things out for me! 4. I am grateful to have sympathetic and generous co-workers who take such good care of me, in spite of my stubbornness. (Me? Stubborn? Huh.)

And now it’s time for me to get back on the couch, which retains the imprint of my body, even when I’m not there. Thanks for being here.

Addendum

It’s Wednesday afternoon, after the thoracentesis. Per my instructions, I took the Xanax before the appointment. While I thought I was feeling mostly just sleepy, apparently I was relaxed enough to be agreeable to have the procedure. (Y’all remember how much I was looking forward to it!) I must say, this time was much easier than last time; much less pain and no panic attack, and the doctor was able to extract about a liter of fluid. There is still some fluid left in there, but I couldn’t stand the suction in my chest any longer, so we quit. It’s possible that I’ll have to go back again, and just in case, I was given a prescription for more Xanax. So, knowing my track record here, are y’all thinking what I’m thinking?

It’ll take a couple of days to fully recuperate, but I am already feeling much better than I was yesterday at this time. I still lose my breath while talking, but that may get better gradually as well. All in all, a successful procedure. So far, anyway.

2007-07-19T18:18:00.000-07:00

The good, the bad, and the ugly

Well, $*&@%&.

I have good news and bad news.

The good news is that according to the test results, my heart is fine. Yup, the ol’ ticker is in decent shape. No problems there.

The bad news is that I have more %&#@ fluid in my lung, making me miserable. Again. (At the last oncologist visit July 2, he listened to my breathing, and said that he could hear air moving in and out, which told me that there was no fluid to block that sound. So the fluid has accumulated in the last couple of weeks.)

So I have some choices: 1) I can do nothing. 2) I can have another thoracentesis (meeting with Mr. Needle). 3) I can have the pleurodesis, which is the permanent fuse of lung and chest wall. 4) I can fill up my Honda and drive off into the sunset and think about it tomorrow.

We all know what I’ll end up doing.

The ugly truth is that I’m such a big chicken about it.

2007-07-16T17:09:00.000-07:00

More tests

I went to the doctor on Friday. Lately I’ve been having chest pain and pressure, and it was getting more frequent and more painful. So I had an EKG, an echocardiogram, and a chest x-ray. (Did you notice? No IV procedures!) I don’t have any results yet and will post them when I hear something. The fact that I didn’t get the results right away is good because only bad news travels fast. I’ve played that game before.

I was extra tired this past weekend, and I struggled with the aforesaid chest pain. My lazy dog and I were quite a pair, lounging around like we had nothing better to do. I had to get up now and then for food, but for the most part, I spent both days on the couch. Resting is easy. Sleeping is hard. I can lie on my left side only, which gets sore after a while. If I lie on my right side, my back hurts. If I lie on my back, my back hurts. If I lie on my stomach…well, you know. Lying on the left side provides a little pressure against the achy spot, thereby making it more tolerable. But, boy is it hard to do!

The acne rash is clearing up slowly. It’s much better, not nearly as red and itchy as before. I recognize myself when I look in the mirror these days. That’s good. What’s not so good is that the rest of my skin is getting very, very dry. I don’t know why. I drink a lot of water and I’m not on a low-fat regimen, so I don’t get it.

What I do get is lots of support from lots of people. Many of you know what I need before I do. Thanks, y’all, for being here.

2007-07-10T17:54:00.000-07:00

Another day. . .

There’s an old saying: another day, another dollar. Lately I think more in terms of another day, another chance. Another chance to slow down, to listen, to enjoy. Literally. I can’t walk fast and breathe too, so I slow down. I can’t talk as long (or as much) as I used to, so I listen. I am grateful to have another day, so I enjoy my work, my time at home, and all the people who help take care of me. I’m so darn well-behaved these days that it’s scary. But it’s not by choice, you understand. I can feel myself slowing down, degree by degree. I take Motrin by the handful, all day long (yes, the doctor knows) and that’s what’s keeping me running. Without it, I hurt and just generally feel lousy. And y’all know that I get cranky when I don’t feel well, and nobody wants to see that.

My appetite is pretty good; sometimes I get so hungry for my own cooking that I just have to cook a meal. I’ve cooked twice this week (yes, twice!) and really enjoyed eating those dinners. The cooking part was a challenge, because I have a hard time standing long enough, but the eating part was such a reward. I usually enjoy dining out, and when I’m too tired for that, I’m happy with a bowl of soup.

I’m still working full days, but I don’t know for how much longer. Half days are very appealing, but if I use my saved days now I won’t have them for later, when I may need them more. And, if I go ahead and succumb to that temptation, then ol’ Skippy may think that he’s won a round. Can’t have that. I tend to stay tired these days, whether it’s from the chemo or from the stupid cancer, I don’t know. Once again, I go to bed ridiculously early, and rarely sleep through the night. Oh, I’m tired enough to, I just don’t get the chance. It seems that my lazy dog needs to go out in the middle of the night and apparently no one opens a door like I do. Of course, just about the time I get back to sleep, there’s a “woof” at the door that no one can hear but me. Yup, I’m lucky that way.

I’ve been fortunate in lots of ways, of that there’s no doubt. I have good doctors, good medicine, and good friends everywhere. Thanks for being here. I still need all the help I can get.

2007-07-04T17:49:00.000-07:00

It’s a short entry tonight, y’all; I had a long day on Tuesday, and am still feeling it on Wednesday night. Ah, but it was SO worth it! More on that in a minute.

First , the news: I had a visit with my oncologist on Monday. I’ve gained 3 lbs. since the last visit—good news. He said that the rash, while annoying now, may actually go away on its own—good news. AND he said to make another appointment in 4 weeks, which means he thinks I’ll still be here in 4 weeks—more good news! Hey, I don’t assume anything anymore, and none of us are promised another day, anyway.

Now for the adventure. Thanks to some very generous people, my sons and I had an hour-long ride in a hot air balloon on Tuesday evening! It was awesome. A very thoughtful co-worker made all the arrangements, and all we had to do was show up. So we did. We flew as high as 1000 feet, and then low enough to pick leaves from a tree. The scenery was quite rural and very pretty; lots of farmland and forests. We saw deer running through the woods, saw a hawk and later, an owl in flight. We waved to people on the ground, who waved back. And yes, we took lots of pictures. I’m the one with the big grin. Once back on the ground, we had a little ceremony where my sons and I received certificates stating that we went up in the balloon, and we had a little sparkling juice to celebrate. Dinner was provided for us by another thoughtful co-worker. Truly an event to remember. If you ever have a chance to go, run to sign up. It’s magical.

I know that I’ll remember the adventure and the thoughtfulness behind it for a long, long time. Thanks for sharing my good news and my adventure!

2007-06-27T16:40:00.000-07:00

Quick acne update: (I know I said I was through talking about the acne, but I lied.) It’s getting better. The redness is fading some, and the actual acne is abating noticeably. Now I have an itchy rash going down my neck. . . yup, the fun just never ends!

Tuesday I received my 2^nd shipment of Tarceva. I don’t know why that stuff doesn’t come via an armored Wells-Fargo truck on a fancy red carpet and hand-delivered by good-looking, tight-uniformed security guards. Hey, I'm sick, not dead!

I am feeling tired, although not exhausted, and I am perfectly happy just to sit in one place for a long time these days. I still work full days most of the time (although I don’t know for how much longer), and my job involves lots of sitting, so that works out very well. If I’m at home, the couch is where you'll find me, but I keep falling asleep. At home, I am frequently conflicted between, “C’mon, girl, just get up, get moving, and get something done,” and “$^%#, don’t you people know that I feel rotten and need help here?” It’s getting difficult to do the simple things: carry groceries in from the car, scrub the shower, stand up long enough to wash dishes. I have not cooked in a while. I can orchestrate from a chair in the kitchen when I draft someone to cook, but we have too many nearby restaurants for someone to volunteer very much. Thanks to the powers that be for restaurant gift cards! And extra thanks to those who bring dinner to me. You all are saints!

I’m getting pressure in my chest again, and I’m starting to cough a little more, and that hurts. Sneezing hurts a LOT, so I try to avoid that whenever possible. I have learned that I can take Motrin with the new meds, so I do and feel much better. And the funny thing is that frequently when I eat, I get hiccups. Yes. Can you believe it? It would be much funnier if it was happening to someone other than me! I guess it’s good to have a funny thing amidst the daily struggle.

So, no real news today. And we all know that no news is good news! Thanks for being here. This journey is made a little easier because y’all are right here, patting my back, filling my belly, and keeping your fingers crossed for good news.

2007-06-21T13:36:00.000-07:00

Reliving the teen years

This acne is going to do me in. On Monday it looked like chicken pox, after the blisters popped. Yes, I had little, itty-bitty scabs all over my face, red swollen bumps, and little white dots. Once the red bumps sprouted white dots, I’d scratch them, and then they’d bleed and form scabs. The good news seems to be that once a bump is gone, it’s really gone. My face is not quite so all-over-red like it was 2 weeks ago, and not quite so hot and itchy like it was last week. Oh, it’s still itchy, just not find-the-Brillo-pad itchy like before. I feel like a science experiment. I guess it’s getting better, although not quick enough to suit me. I was instructed by my oncologist to avoid oily products on my face, since that would compound the acne. I’ve done that, and I’ve gotten dry skin as my reward. Which sounds like good news, right? Dry skin = less acne. While that is true, my skin is over 40, and desperately needs moisture. In these last couple of weeks, I’ve avoided my favorite moisturizers, and boy, does it show! My fine lines have turned into magnificent lines. Apparently, I have laughed a lot in my 40+ years, and maybe that’s not such a bad thing to advertise, after all. And now I am through talking about the acne. Moving on. . .

I went to see the oncologist on Tuesday. There wasn’t much to discuss; the bloodwork looked normal (whatever that is), and we decided to change the antibiotic to a pill rather than a gel. The gel was keeping me from getting infection, but a pill may work better to actually clear up this face. We shall see. I have another appointment in 2 weeks.

So no bad news this time, which is good news. And it’s about time for some good news! Thanks for being here.

2007-06-13T18:35:00.000-07:00

Itchin' and scratchin'

I’ve been itching and scratching and complaining for about a week now; the acne rash is just as annoying now as ever. It’s not getting any worse, although I can’t say for certain that it’s getting any better, either. The antibiotic gel is doing its job, and the Benadryl crème is doing its job, let’s hope the Tarceva (which is the cause of the rash) is doing its job too. (Ol’ Skippy still has a fight on his hands!)

In the big picture, while the acne rash is aggravating as ^%#%*, it’s a pretty minor side effect to have. I’m not throwing up, not nauseated, not in constant or extreme pain, not exhausted, and not bald. There are worse things than looking awful. (For those of you who have seen me and said, “It’s really not that bad”, I thank you for being such kind and wonderful liars.)

Appetite and energy aside, I’m feeling pretty good. I don’t want to eat much, but I’m eating. The old fashioned breakfast seems to have the most appeal: fried eggs, bacon, potatoes….YUM. Of course, there’s no time during the workweek for such indulgence, so Cheerios it is. I’m still working full days, but once I get home, I just want to sit, relax, and have someone else cook dinner. (Does that happen to anyone else?) I took the dog around the block last week, and I made it about halfway before I realized that I shouldn’t be walking that far. Of course, being halfway meant that I had to go the rest of the way. Oh, I made it, but it took a long time. The dog was thrilled, because my extra slow pace allowed him to sniff every bush, tuft of grass, and mailbox along the way. In his eyes, I was doggy mom of the year that day.

Thanks for being here. I’m glad that I can lean on y’all and rest just a little. Or a lot.

2007-06-08T14:43:00.000-07:00

This rash is going to drive me over the edge. (Did I mention that it’s a rash with acne? Yup, I won the daily double.) Late Wednesday night, my face was so itchy and sore that I couldn’t sleep. I had an itchy face and jumpy legs, and I was miserable. My legs were tingly and I wanted to walk around just to relieve the tingly feeling. I had to do something. Anything. My rationale was that if I could fix either one of those problems, then I could sleep, and since I had no idea of what to do for the tingly legs, I had to work on the itchy rash. So I tried a frozen soft gel pack. It was too cold and too heavy. A wet washcloth was just wet and scratchy. I finally just gave up and put some anti-itch crème on my face, something my doctor advised me not to do. (Something about hydrocortisone / steroids being too harsh on the skin on the face.) It worked well enough. Like I said, I was miserable and it was the middle of the night.

On Thursday I called the doctor to let him know that I’d put some hydrocortisone on the rash, and that it helped some. Turns out that I can use that sparingly and can also use Benadryl crème on the rash, too, in addition to the antibiotic gel. The gel is NOT for the relief of the itch, it’s to keep infection away, since the acne is so bad. Yup, I have gray hair, wrinkles, and acne. I just know y’all are jealous.

(It has dawned on me that it may appear that I’m ungrateful about having the good rash. I’m not; I feel very fortunate to have some indication that this medicine may work for me. But my face is very uncomfortable, and looks like *&%#. I had no idea that I was so vain! With topical treatments that I can use, maybe I can get the acne and the rash to more tolerable levels, and then I won’t whine so much. Well, it could happen.)

Otherwise, I feel pretty good. I don’t cough much, I don’t gasp for breath too often, I don’t wheeze much, I don’t have a sore throat (why not? I still have the tumor), my breathing is much better, haven’t had Motrin in a couple of weeks, my endurance is slowly returning—I cooked dinner Wednesday night and ate it, too. Compared to how I felt a year ago, this is a drastic improvement. If I didn’t know that I have cancer, I’d have no reason to think so-- there’s nothing to indicate it. Maybe this new, daily medicine will be the one that heals me. We shall see.

Thanks for being here!

2007-06-05T19:02:00.000-07:00

The right stuff!

Good news, y’all! I have the good rash! So everyone can stop wishing the itchy rash on me; I’ve got it! (Oh, boy, do I ever.) I have to say that collectively y’all do excellent work. This rash is bright red like sunburn, itches like a %$#*, and seems to be limited to my face; pretty much what everyone was hoping I’d get.

According to the informational pamphlet that came with the Tarceva, there were 2 types of rash that I could get. One was the regular side effect rash that is annoying but to be expected. The other was an allergic reaction rash which would mean that we’d have to stop the Tarceva. Turns out that I got the right one. And so to counter the red itchies, I was prescribed an antibiotic gel to put on my face to calm it. (Isn’t that ironic? We prayed for the rash, and now we want to clear it up.)

This is almost as good as growing hair again! Thanks for being here to share this good news. It’s about darn time, too!

2007-06-02T18:33:00.000-07:00

They're Here!

My new chemo pills were delivered on Thursday morning. They arrived, all safe and snug in their little bubble-wrapped package, with instructions and warnings and the receipt. I knew these pills were expensive because I had to pay over twice the usual co-pay amount for them. But when I looked at the receipt and saw just how expensive, well, let’s just say it’s a good thing I was already sitting down. For a 30-day supply, 1 month—ONE MONTH—these pills cost just over $3900. No, not $39.00. THREE THOUSAND NINE HUNDRED DOLLARS.

I took the first Tarceva pill on Thursday afternoon. It must be taken on an empty stomach (either 1 hour before or 2 hours after a meal), so I thought that about 5 p.m. would be a pretty good time. We’ll see. That night I didn’t fall asleep the minute I hit the pillow (unusual for me), so if the pill is keeping me awake, I’ll have to change the time and move it to much earlier in the day. Or much later. Of course, I read the list of usual side effects, and here’s what I get to look forward to: Rash, possibly acne, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea. And then there are the unusual side effects that need immediate medical care: vomit that looks like coffee grounds, yellowing eyes, and dark urine. Then there are the warnings, and among them are 2 that just make me laugh: I shouldn’t eat grapefruit or have grapefruit juice and I shouldn’t get pregnant.

So here we go again, on yet another leg of this journey. My next doctor visit is June 5, and we’ll see how I’m doing medically. In 3 months, we’ll do another CT scan and check me again. In the meantime, I’ll be over here, eating cookies and trying not to scratch.

Addendum: I have a red, itchy face and food is losing its appeal, so something's happening!

2007-05-29T17:27:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-05-24T14:42:00.000-07:00

3rd meeting with Mr. Needle

Warning: Whiny and squeamish information follows. Proceed at your own risk.

I had the 3^rd 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.

2007-05-22T19:07:00.000-07:00

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 3^rd 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 Duke University or UNC-Chapel Hill. Once again, it’s not helpful to speculate or play “what if”, so I’m trying not to.

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.

2007-05-17T18:22:00.000-07:00

No news

As of this writing, there is no news regarding the CT scan I had on May 9^th. 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.

Thanks for caring! Lots of people have asked if I’ve heard any news regarding the latest test, and I appreciate that they remember. (I’ll post something as soon as I hear something.) I’m glad that y’all are here. I need all the help I can get!

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.

2007-05-10T12:13:00.000-07:00

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. )

Thanks for being here.

2007-05-06T17:53:00.000-07:00

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 White Castle hamburgers!) This all lasts for a couple of days, and then it gets better, degree by degree.

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 9^th, 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.

2007-04-30T15:15:00.000-07:00

It's Monday!

It’s another Monday, and another weekend survived. My weekend was pretty good, although I still need to remember that I have limits. Oh, I pushed them when I was a kid, is it any surprise that I push them now? On Saturday, my employer sponsored a 5 K walk for health , so of course I went, KNOWING that I could not walk the entire 5 K (it’s about 3 miles), but thinking that I could walk a little. (There I was thinking again—when will I learn?) I walked about a quarter of a mile. I was exhausted and worthless for the rest of the day. Then, since I’m a slow learner, I went strawberry picking with my family on Sunday. I picked a few berries and was wiped out after about 30 minutes. Thanks to Mom and Dad and youngest son who together picked enough berries so we could eat some now and freeze some for later. Oh, and thanks, Dad for buying the berries. My $13 really wouldn’t have covered it.

Also this weekend, I read in the local paper that “chemo brain” is a REAL condition, which is a mixed blessing, at best. Is it better to know that the forgetfulness, lack of concentration, the lack of immediate recall, and the slow rate at which thoughts come is all to be expected? And doesn’t it make sense that chemotherapy WOULD affect the brain? After all, look at what it does to the body; it’s probably a miracle that those of us on chemo can think at all, much less hold jobs, drive, shop, & feed ourselves. Although some of us feed ourselves cookies. And chocolate milk.

All in all, a good weekend. Most of my days are good, weekend or not. Except for being tired (regular or extra), I feel pretty good. I’m not in pain, not depressed, not sad, and not passively waiting. I’m generally happy, very grateful for the blessings I have, and still mad enough to insult the cancer every chance I get. I’m working, doing laundry, shopping when absolutely necessary and mostly letting the housework go. Eventually vacuuming becomes crucial, lest we drown in dog hair (the seasonal shedding has begun!). When the dust gets thick enough to write messages in, then it’s time for it to go. We laugh at clutter. We scoff at dirty dishes. We happily ignore unopened mail, especially bills. Eventually, it all gets taken care of, although never on the same day, mind you. See? It’s the good life, I tell you! Ok, so maybe not THE Good Life, but A Good Life anyway. Honestly, if I had the energy to keep up, I would. (Well, maybe.) But I don’t and I can’t let it bother me. So if you come to visit, expect a little clutter and a few dishes in the sink. And we will sit on the couch, eat cookies, and ignore it all.

2007-04-26T18:04:00.000-07:00

A short post today, y'all, I just wanted to give a quick update:
The 2^nd meeting with Mr. Needle was yesterday. It went very well, and I am sore today at the puncture site, which I expected. There was about a ½ liter of fluid drained off, and there is more in there, but the doctor didn’t want to put me in pain like she did last time. (And no, I didn’t tell y’all about that at the time. Suffice it to say that the more fluid that was drained, the more my lung hurt. So this time we quit before I got uncomfortable.) I feel a little better today than yesterday, but honestly, it’s hard to know how I feel between the soreness in my back, the remaining fluid, and this cold. The bad news is that we may end up having another meeting with Mr. Needle. (Some people have 3 – 4 meetings.) The good news is that I can take Motrin again!

I am looking forward to a restful weekend. We'll see if that's what I get.

2007-04-24T18:16:00.000-07:00

It's Tuesday!

Y’all, I have a cold. I don’t know how I got it; I wash my hands several times a day, and use the sanitizer gel all the time. I have a sore throat (it’s better now), and a constant cough, and a stuffy/drippy nose. Great, just what I need. My comforting thought is that it won’t kill me. (Wouldn’t that just beat all? Go through all this chemo & radiation & other stuff just to have a cold do me in?)
Most of my colds tend to affect my vocal cords, and this one is following suit. In fact, over the weekend, I couldn’t talk much at all! (Much to the delight of those around me, I might add.) Monday night was tough, I was coughing non-stop, it seemed, and I didn’t get the sleep I wanted to get. Yes, I took cough syrup. Yes, I took Benadryl to dry up my nose. Yes, I took Tylenol. I’m sure they helped—I did get some sleep, after all—but those things wear off after a while, and the cough came right back. So today, I’m tired, coughing, and talking with the husky voice. Oh, let’s have some cheese with this whine!

The thoracentesis is tomorrow, and I’m hoping it all goes well. The procedure is pretty minor; it’s similar to going to the dentist for a filling. You know, that first shot really hurts, but everything after that is painless. The puncture site will be sore for a couple of days, but then it’ll heal up and be OK again. Last time, I didn’t look at the equipment being used and don’t intend to look this time, either. Mr. Needle will just have to do the work without my input again. It’s better that way.

Speaking of things that are better, I just gotta say that I love my hair. Of course, I’d be grateful to have any at all, but the hair I have is just wonderful. I like the texture, I like the waves and I like the color (why did I ever think blonde was good?). This hair is different from the pre-chemo hair in that it’s coarser, curlier, and darker. I’m only assuming on the color, however, I could have had hair this color for years and never have known it. (Clairol and I were good friends!)

Thanks for being here. The tough days are easier because y’all are here. Yes, even you over there.

2007-04-19T15:25:00.000-07:00

The next big thing

I had the chest x-ray on Tuesday. The technician offered to let me see it, so I did, and wow. I’m not a radiologist; have no training at all in reading x-rays, and usually don’t have a clue as to what to look at on an x-ray. But on this one, it was screamingly clear that there was something wrong. The right lung looked clear, with ribs and blood vessels, things I expected to see. The left lung was about 2/3 white. No ribs, no blood vessels, no heart, no tumor. Why? Because the fluid in the lung was obstructing the view. No kidding. And I KNOW it’s psychosomatic (because on Tuesday I was fine), but on Wednesday I felt that fluid all day long.

I went by the oncologist’s office to pick up some supplies for a CT scan I’m having in May, and the medical assistant came out to greet me. She had read the radiologist’s report –yes, they can be quick—and was ready to get the scheduling and bloodwork done in preparation for the next thoracentesis. It’s scheduled for April 25. While I’m glad to be having it done (I’ll feel better), it means that I’ll have to sacrifice my beloved Motrin for a few days before the procedure. Oh, the horror! Banish the thought! Sad but true; I’ll have to be tough for a day or so, but maybe I can endure. Perhaps cookies will help.

Speaking of food, y’all will be thrilled to know that I am gaining some weight! Yup, gained 3 lbs. since the last chemo. I just know that everyone has been up nights, pacing, waiting for that news. I’m grateful and glad that you are here at all.

2007-04-16T17:07:00.000-07:00

Another Monday

I feel so much better with each passing day. Not that I feel great, but I do feel better, which just goes to show how awful that first week really is. The extreme fatigue is gone, now I have just “regular tired” to deal with. Well, that and the pressure in my chest. Yes, again. Yup, it looks like the ol’ lung fluid is back, although not nearly to the extreme as before. I won’t let it get to that degree again; I was drowning and miserable. Tomorrow I’ll go get a chest x-ray, and then we’ll schedule the thoracentesis after that. Yes, another meeting with Mr. Needle. Is anyone surprised? It’s OK, though, as far as procedures go, it’s an easy one (for me); I hope the next one is as painless as the first one.

I’m a little concerned about a spot on my back. Since the last chemo, the skin on my back has been very sensitive where the radiation scar is. (The radiation burn has healed, but left a scar.) I can’t see it, but I’ve been told that there is a palm sized, darker brown area close to the puncture site of the thoracentesis that is a little red, a little swollen, and just a little touchy. I have no idea why. I think that it shouldn’t be sore at this point, but there I go, thinking again. It’s always something.

Food is becoming an interesting issue. I’m still more “burpy” than usual, but that doesn’t seem to be a huge issue. Chocolate milk is darn near irresistible and the colder the better. Salads (which I’ve never EVER gotten excited about) are sometimes exactly what I want to eat. Strange. Dark chocolate is still merely OK; I can have one or two bites and be quite satisfied.

I am more than satisfied with the amount of support I have—y’all are just the best! I get encouragement, I get motivation to keep going, and I get lots of laughter, which is the best medicine of all.

2007-04-11T11:41:00.000-07:00

It’s Wednesday afternoon, and I’m feeling much better than I was earlier this week! Sunday and Monday were very hard. The mornings were OK, once I took some ibuprofen, but the afternoons were a struggle. I took Monday off from work, and I was glad that I did. Tuesday morning I was very tired and achy until the ibuprofen kicked in. Motrin is a wonder drug! If I ingest enough Motrin, I will feel better, although I don’t think I’ll get back to 100% between treatments anymore. My “bounce back” from the previous treatment was more like a “drunken stagger back” to feeling OK. I guess that is to be expected at this point. A friend was insightful enough to mention that yes, life is full of changes, and the “new normal” is to be expected, just like with any life change. Huh. She’s right, and I wonder why I didn’t think of that myself. Just another day in Chemotown, I suppose.

I’ve been asked about the pleurodesis (the permanent fuse of lung to chest wall) vs. the thoracentesis (meeting with Mr. Needle). Here’s the scoop: My oncologist said that the thoracentesis could be repeated a couple of times, and would depend on how I felt with the fluid in my lung. If the fluid returned often, like every week, then the pleurodesis would be a good and permanent option. But if the fluid came back once or twice over the course of 3 months or so, then the pleurodesis would not be a good choice. Since the pleurodesis is a last resort method, it would only be used when repeated aspirations were not effective. So now we play my favorite game of all, “Wait and See”.

I’ve also got to wait and see what my hair is going to do. In the last blog entry, I mentioned that I’d had a haircut, and wasn’t very pleased with it. For those of you who see me, yeah, it looks OK, very similar to my hairstyle in the B. C. days (that’s Before Chemo). For those who don’t see me, imagine a very short masculine haircut with hair that is gray and black. (And how wonderful to complain about something as petty as a too-short haircut!)

Thanks for being here. You all carry me in ways that I can’t even articulate. I stay strong just knowing that you’re here.

2007-04-05T17:58:00.000-07:00

Thursday is chemo day!

Today I had another chemo treatment. I know, I know, all I had to do was show up, the nurses and technicians did all the hard work. And they do it so well, and so kindly. I don’t know if any of them are cancer survivors, but they are all so very empathetic and gentle, which just shows how truly wonderful they are. They all seem to understand that needle sticks hurt, and that hair loss is yet another indignity, and that people’s once-healthy bodies are becoming strange vessels full of poison. They also understand that it’s OK to laugh sometimes.

I had a good talk with my oncologist today. We discussed the lung fluid, and the thoracentesis (the meeting with Mr. Needle), and the pleurodesis (the fusing of lung and chest wall) and some other things. My biggest question was: if the lung and chest wall are fused together so no fluid can get in there, but the fluid is still being made because of the tumor or other inflammation, where will the fluid go? The answer is: If there’s nowhere for the fluid to go, my body won’t make any. Problem solved. This procedure is used as a last resort, and would be used only after repeated aspirations had failed. Along those same lines, I asked about the pain in my back whenever I cough or sneeze. It feels like a knife stabbing me, but only for about 2-3 seconds, then it’s gone. The good doctor said that it’s probably pleuritis (inflammation of the lung), and may go away with the help of my good friend, Motrin. (If you haven't bought that stock yet, now's the time!) I also asked if this chemo drug is cumulative, and he said yes. Ah. That explains why I’ve not been bouncing back quickly. Each treatment adds to the one before, so from this point on, I won’t fully recover from the last chemo before I get hit with the next one. The good news is that it wasn’t just my imagination, that I really was tired for a longer period. The bad news is that it’s going to continue.

Finally got the hair cut! It was looking great in the back, but the top was getting a bit heavy. So I went to get it trimmed up, and told the stylist that I just wanted it just a teeny bit shorter. I told her that I liked the curls, so of course, she cut them off. If they come back, I’ll keep them. As with most haircuts, I’m not sure that I like this one, but after a day or so, maybe I’ll be able to work with it. If not, it’s just hair, and will grow back. And I still have my blonde wig, just in case!

Thanks for being here. Every day I get some kind of encouragement, and I appreciate it so much. Between my health and the personal issues, it’s very easy to get discouraged. Thanks for holding me up and keeping me moving.

2007-04-01T06:41:00.000-07:00

The recovery and follow-up

It’s been almost a week since my meeting with Mr. Needle, and I’m healing up just fine. I had a follow-up visit with my radiologist (it gave me chills walking back into that place!), and he said that I’m doing well except for some fluid in my lung, probably about a liter or so, and guess what he advised? Yup. And if that doesn’t work, there’s another procedure we can use called a pleurodesis. This procedure scars the lining of the lung to the chest wall, so that no fluid can get in there. It’s a procedure that requires hospitalization, and so of course, I don’t want to do it. The fluid could be caused by the tumor or by some inflammation in my lung. Fusing the lung and the chest wall together to keep fluid out won’t eliminate either the tumor or the inflammation, so the fluid could still be generated. Where will it go? Surely someone has the answer. Dr. R. said that most people who have it done can breathe much better afterward. (The good doctor also said that jogging would be out of the question, but I could still play tennis once I healed. I wonder why he thought those things were relevant in my world!) Anyway, once healed up, life would proceed as usual, so that part was encouraging.

Sometimes I think that I’m falling apart; section by section. I feel like I get a good grip on today’s issues, and then something else torpedoes in and then I have to scramble. Is this a test of will? Attitude? Endurance? Faith? As though it matters at all. To say that I’m tired of this game is a HUGE understatement.

I’m a little cynical this week; I guess, it’s been a hard week for me and I’m tired. There have been some personal issues going on in addition to these health issues, and it all just seemed to crash in on me early in the week. You’ve heard that saying, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” Well, it was, and I wanted to. Yup, a one-way ticket to Anywhere-But-Here was sounding pretty darn good. But I was needed here more than I wanted to leave, so here I stayed. Thank you E. for talking me off the ledge and not giving me a shove. I owe you big. Again.

2007-03-26T18:02:00.000-07:00

The Procedure

Today was the day I had the thoracentesis. That’s the big word that means “meeting with Mr. Needle”. Oh, I was trying to avoid it, but I got talked into it anyway. The shortness of breath, pressure in my chest, and general discomfort were pretty good arguments in favor of, and I didn’t have a rebuttal. As far as procedures go, it was pretty minor. I received a shot of painkiller (why does THAT hurt so much?), and didn’t feel any pain after that at all. The doctor inserted a catheter which was attached to a tube which was attached to a suction device, while I just sat and waited. I felt a little pressure now and then, but no pain. Before the procedure started, the doctor had told me that she estimated 2 liters of fluid in my lung (which is a LOT), and actually extracted 1 liter, but the rest wouldn’t come out at all. After the 1 liter was out, I felt some increasing pressure in my lung, and we stopped the procedure until the pressure lessened. After that, no more fluid was forthcoming, so we stopped the whole thing. After we were finished, I was taken in for a chest x-ray, and then was released. Thanks to T. for driving me there and for bringing me home.

I expected to feel better immediately, which was what everyone told me would happen, but I didn’t feel better. Even a couple of hours later, I didn’t feel better. At this writing, I’m still uncomfortable and now with a puncture wound. Great.

I saw the liter of fluid that was extracted –wow, no wonder I was miserable!—and was amazed that there was still that much left inside. The doctor told me that the fluid may disappear, or that I may have to come back for a repeat performance. With the way my luck’s been running lately, I know where to place my bet, don’t you?

So that’s the latest news. Thanks for being here.

2007-03-22T12:06:00.000-07:00

A week after the steamroller

It’s been 1 week after chemo, and what a difference! I’ve learned that it’s going to take a full week to feel human again, no matter what. Staying home on Monday was the right thing to do, but I didn’t feel any better or worse on Tuesday than if I had worked for ½ the day on Monday. So now I know.

Eating several times a day makes a difference in how I feel in the short term; the only issue with that is that I don’t want to eat anything. I have no appetite, it’s too much trouble to fix something, (even warming a can of soup is exhausting), and I only want about 4 bites anyway. Food is just food, nothing more. Nothing tastes especially good or bad, and there are no cravings for anything with this new medicine. I have noticed that I’m more “burpy” than usual (too much info? Sorry!) and it doesn’t matter what I eat. There is a little nausea with this new medicine, but it’s not bothersome enough to take the anti-nausea meds. Yes, I know they work better in the belly than in the bottle. Still not going to take them unless I have to. Have I mentioned that I hate taking pills? Y’all knew that? Huh.

I am having some difficulty with pressure in my chest. It feels like someone is pushing on it when I lie down, get up from lying down, get up from sitting down, or walk around. It also hurts frequently when I bend down, like when petting the dog, or tying my shoes, picking up something from the floor, or when carrying something. The sensation goes away, but it’s very uncomfortable while it lasts. You know, like a toothache is uncomfortable.

That’s all the whining for today. Stay tuned for the next episode, when we may hear the stylist say, “. . . And how short are we cutting it today, ma’am?” And maybe not. Thanks for being here. I’m glad y’all are here with me.

2007-03-19T12:31:00.000-07:00

Groan. It’s Monday. And I’ve been flattened again. I don’t hurt (except for the creaks that we over-40’s have anyway), but boy, am I tired! I’ve spent most of the day in the recliner or on the couch. Every time I lie on the couch—EVERY time, mind you—I fall asleep within a minute or two. I just can’t keep these baby blues open. And since I don’t want to sleep all day, I have to sit in the recliner or sit on the couch. That works pretty well, anyway, because getting up from a prone position gives me very painful pressure in my chest. That happened with the last chemo treatments, too, so I guess it’s part of the game. I’ve also discovered that my skin is sore on my chest and my upper arms. I have no idea why.

For the last week or so, I’ve stopped taking Motrin for the lung fluid, and have had no trouble with stabbing pains, breathing, or trying to get comfortable when sleeping. Don’t tell Skippy; I’m sure it’s just an oversight.

I stayed home from work today to see if I’d feel better tomorrow by resting today. I could have worked today-- the hardest part of my job is getting there—but I’m wondering if I’ll recover quicker if I rest on the rough days. We’ll see. If tomorrow comes and I feel like I used to on the 6^th day after chemo, then I’ll know that resting all day makes no difference and I can resume working ½ days. Which I will do for most of this week anyway. (Don’t tell E.)

That’s the latest. I am very grateful for the “FW Bunch”, who are taking such good care of me! The rough days are made easier because I know there are people thinking of me. Thank you. Thank you all.

2007-03-13T18:24:00.000-07:00

Tuesday's news

I guess it’s time for an update. Honestly, there’s not much going on, and I am grateful for that.

I am still dealing with this lung fluid situation; I finally called the doctor today to get an answer to a question. The question was: How do we know if the fluid in the lung is gone or if Motrin is masking the discomfort? Here are the answers:
1. Yes, the Motrin could be masking the discomfort of the lung fluid, so I should…
2. Stop taking the Motrin unless I get miserable with extreme pain/pressure.
3. The only way to know if the fluid is better is by another X-ray or by exam.
4. Chemo helps with the lung fluid.
5. How short of breath I am can be an indication of how much fluid I have. (Oh, no!)
6. The only way to fix it is to aspirate.
7. #@*&^.
Since I’m going in for chemo on Thursday anyway, I’ll see the doctor and we’ll work out a plan. I really would like to avoid Mr. Needle if possible; I see enough of his cousins on a regular basis.

In other news, I saw an acquaintance today, and he and his woman friend were asking about the cancer, my hair, and the chemo. I answered the questions honestly (hey, I have nothing to hide!), and the funny/sad thing that happened was this: The woman wanted to share, and told me of her friend who had been diagnosed with lung cancer, and went through chemo, lost her hair, was sick, and then she died. And then the woman told me of another friend of hers that had been diagnosed with stomach cancer, and when they went in to operate, the cancer was just all over, and she died, too. Uh-huh. Gee, thanks for those uplifting messages!

Oh, yeah, my hair!! For those of you who see me—isn’t it just unbelievable?? For those of you who don’t, I’ll try to describe it: It’s about 1 ½ inches long, soft as baby hair, gray like rabbit fur, and curly, curly, curly! Every time I pass a mirror, I’m startled, and then I smile, because I look so darn good. I wear a lot of black, so the gray really stands out—it looks very sophisticated; can you imagine? Me?? Sophisticated? Who knew?? I hope I get to keep it!

I had a wonderful surprise today! I got to see my friend E., who brought me a gift bag with goodies in it. I was told that one gift was to keep, and the other was to keep for as long as I need it, and then pass it along. I certainly don’t mind, but I had to ask. Why pass it along? The answer: Because that’s what friends are for. Ah. I get it now. Thank you.

2007-03-08T18:10:00.000-08:00

It's Thursday!

The last chemo treatment was 2 weeks ago today, and the next one is a week away. All this week, I’ve been feeling pretty good, and eating well, and working full days. Today I was tired. No, more than tired; exhausted, as though I’d been up all night. My bed was calling to me as I got dressed for work, promising comfort and quiet. I thought that if I could just get to work and have some coffee, that I would just perk right up. Guess what? I was wrong again. I struggled through the morning, even after coffee and a couple of snacks. After a little rest and a little lunch, I was feeling much better and worked the whole day after all. But for a while there, the beast earned a few points.

In the last post, I mentioned that I have fluid in my lung. At times, it was very painful, especially when lying down. A couple of times, I had pain under my heart, I had stabbing pains when I tried to breathe, and it felt like my left lung was frozen in a vice grip. When I got up and moved around a little, all the pain vanished. It would be gone for days, but it sometimes came back at night. Maybe it’s my imagination, but it seems to be getting better now, even without treatment. (I really

don’t want to see Mr. Needle. That can only mean more trouble for me.) The only pain I’ve had in the last couple of days is the pain in my back whenever I sneeze, so I avoid that whenever possible. And then I swear when I can’t avoid the sneeze. (Is anyone surprised?)

Sometimes I just have to laugh at my “chemo brain” (It’s either laugh or cry, and crying ruins my make-up, sooo…) . One day last week, I was working on a project for my son, and I was trying to add 49 and 6. Couldn’t do it. I knew that I had been taught how to add numbers, and I knew that I was capable of adding these two. I also knew that I was never going to get the right total. I finally counted on my fingers. Yeah, laugh all you want to. Some days are just like that in Chemotown.

Thanks for being here. Every day, you all inspire me to keep moving.

Addendum: It's never smart to poke the bear, even inadvertantly. Thursday night was painful, thanks to the the fluid in my lung. I awoke in the middle of the night in pain. I hurt, couldn't breathe, and could only lie flat on my back in semi-comfort. Fortunately, my white knight came to my rescue in the form of liquid Motrin. (It works FAST!) Ahhh.. much better. Maybe it's time to make that appointment with Mr. Needle after all. (Sigh.)

2007-03-05T18:07:00.000-08:00

It’s Monday! And what a much better day today is!

I was feeling rotten on Wednesday night and Thursday—I was very tired, was having trouble breathing and had lots of pain, which was something new--so I went to the doc, got a chest X-ray, & learned that I have fluid in my lung. Well, now that explains the pain, pressure, & coughing. The good doctor offered to aspirate the fluid, but that requires a big needle and my cooperation, so I passed on that. It’s possible that this fluid will just disappear in a week or so, so I’m taking that chance. And if it doesn’t, then I’ll go back and not look at Mr. Needle. In the meantime, it’s Motrin to the rescue again! You may want to buy stock. (I also have an itchy rash which may or may not be a reaction to the chemo. It seems kind of minor to mention it, but it came with the lung fluid. I doubt that they are related, but I could be wrong.)

I don’t yet know if I’ll get to keep this sassy short hair for this chemo go-round; that info will present itself to me later this week. Generally, on or about day 15 after the first chemo treatment is when the hair starts to fall out. That day will be on Friday. So next Monday, I may have this hair, or the blonde wig may make another appearance. It’ll be more of my favorite game, “wait and see”, since I haven’t played that enough here lately. Sheesh.

Today, this minute, I feel pretty good. The nausea seems to be abating, as is the extreme fatigue. I’m eating and working and resting, although there’s probably too much of one and not enough of the others. I am glad and grateful that y’all are here.

2007-02-28T12:28:00.001-08:00

Today is Wednesday, and I’m finally feeling like I’m going to live again. Earlier this week, I wasn’t so sure. This chemo go-round is a little different than the others, although there are similarities. The after-effects seemed to hit me later (72 hours later rather than 48), and didn’t make me ache all over. I’ve had a little nausea with this treatment. No cravings this time. I still wore the red face for a couple of days, and was exhausted for several days afterward. I ran cold and hot again. It finally dawned on me that I need to eat every couple of hours instead of a couple of times a day. Working half days seems to be the way to go; I can’t make it through an entire workday yet. When I come home from work, I stay on the couch -- no errands, no laundry, no cleaning, no cooking -- until bedtime, which is ridiculously early.

Fortunately for me, my live-in, on-call “staff” has been very accommodating with errands, meals, and clean-up duty. (In fact, they are quite good, considering what they’re paid!) I am grateful to have sons who are so willing and good-natured about helping ol’ Mom. I’ve used some of the restaurant gift cards and what a wonderful invention those are! At this point, whatever makes my life easier is the way to go, and I’m calling in favors left and right. I can still drive, but my endurance is nonexistent, so once I drive myself somewhere, I don’t have the energy to do what I came for! Such is life. Temporarily, anyway.

Thanks for seeing me through this next chapter. I don’t know how long this one will last, but I’m glad y’all are here with me.

2007-02-26T10:02:00.000-08:00

It's a short entry today, folks. Sunday was the day that flattened me, although I was expecting Saturday to be the day that did me in. Saturday actually went pretty well, and of course I was thinking (I really have to stop that) that maybe this won't be so bad after all. Oh, when will I learn?

I don't hurt, I’m just very tired. I went to bed at 9 p.m. on Sunday night, woke up often during the night, and got up at 6 a.m. on Monday to go to work. By 6:15 I was ready to go back to bed. I didn't (can't let the beast win), but I sure wanted to.

Now the couch is calling and it's music to my ears. Thanks for being here.

2007-02-22T16:54:00.000-08:00

The new chemo

I’ve been feeling pretty good lately and healing up nicely from the last chemo & radiation regimen. My back has a nicely tanned, slightly textured spot where there used to be an open wound. I’m more energetic than I was 2 months ago, although I still have to walk slowly and go to bed early. My hair is growing quickly, it’s VERY soft and gray, and still looks sassy. Who knew gray could look this darn good? My appetite is back, I eat often and adult-size portions of food. And best of all, dark chocolate and I are buds again!

And so it’s no surprise that today, I got to stand on the tracks of the 2:10, and wait for the “A” train. Yup, today was the beginning of another round of chemo, this time using Alimta, my new drug of choice. It went pretty well, with one tiny exception. You-know-who was supposed to take anti-nausea pills yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Yesterday was no problem. Someone forgot the pills today and paid for it in the chemo lounge this afternoon. Yup, about 5 minutes after the start of Alimta, I got that “hot all over” feeling. And then my mouth started watering, and I was dreading the next phase. So I summoned my appointed nurse (before I lost my lunch), and she stopped the Alimta. Did she disconnect me and send me home? No. She gave me some Decadron and when it was gone, I got the rest of the Alimta. And then I was sent home, and felt fine. (I still have the rough days on the way, though.) My reward? To come back in 3 weeks and do it all over again.

Thanks for being here. I feel as though y’all have been carrying me for a long time, and I appreciate it so much. I could not do this alone.

2007-02-16T14:48:00.000-08:00

The doctor visit yesterday went well. There were no surprises, I learned some good information, and got prepped for the upcoming chemo. Oh boy, this time, I get a shot every 9 weeks, and I’ll be taking some meds during chemo week. ( More stuff to remember to do—I’ll probably have sticky notes all over the house to remind me. Apologies in advance to my roommates!)

In a recent previous blog entry, I mentioned that I equated 2^nd line chemo drugs with the 2^nd level antibiotics—I thought they were more potent, more intense. I was wrong in that assumption. 2^nd line chemo is just that; different medicines because the first drugs didn’t work.

My new regimen will be chemo every 3^rd week (just like I did back in the summer), starting this Thursday. My new chemo drug is Alimta, which will take about 30 minutes to administer, so my entire afternoon won’t be spent at Happy Juice Junction. I’ll be able to drive myself to and from treatments, too. I asked if the side effects of the new chemo drug were listed in order of probability, and the doctor said not necessarily. They are listed in order of what the doctors can measure, and then what patients report the most. The side effects listed are: decreased platelet, white, and red blood cell counts, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, weight loss --really??--constipation, hair loss, mouth sores and a few more I can't remember. I might get them all, or I might not get any. Can’t wait for that, you betcha!

I told my doctor that I had decided against participating in the research study, and he told me that I didn’t qualify for it anyway. My liver spot is too small. So now I don’t have to feel guilty about not helping to provide data for cancer research. Good, it’s one less thing on the plate.

I am feeling optimistic again, now that I have a plan. I'm feeling strong again, since y'all are still here in my corner. All I have to do is show up on chemo day, right? I can do that.

2007-02-13T18:26:00.000-08:00

I’m having a hard time getting excited over this new round of chemo. I know it’s a good thing having options, and I’m grateful to have treatment available. But I know what’s coming, some of it anyway, and I’m not looking forward to that. These new drugs have different side effects than the last ones, and they may be more intense for all I know. My oncologist calls them 2^nd line chemo drugs, and I’m getting those since the first line didn’t work as well as we’d hoped. I equate it to antibiotics: we always get the weakest medicine first, and if that doesn’t work, we get stronger stuff.

I have made a decision regarding the research study. I’m not going to participate. The benefits didn't outweigh the risks. I read the material, and wanted to confer with a trusted friend to see if I was reading the material correctly. As it turned out, we both read and understood the same things, and were concerned about the same things, and came to the same decision. (Thank you, E.!) I was asked recently if there was a chance that I’d get a placebo. The answer is NO. My health can’t afford one, and probably neither can anyone else who participates in this study. It’s my understanding that everyone in the study is in the same boat that I’m in; meaning that first line chemo didn’t work, and we need different treatment for this go-round. But that’s all moot now, since I'm not going to do it.

So, here I go again. The next visit with the doctor is on Thursday, when we'll pick a chemo day, and go over my questions, and whatever else there is to do. This time, there is some pre-treatment stuff I have to do: a shot and some pills before I ever get the chemo. You know, new regimen and new stuff to do. Of course. Y'all put on your seatbelts. It could be a bumpy ride.

2007-02-09T11:51:00.000-08:00

Friday's news

Yes, the doctor visit was yesterday. Yes, I went and took notes. Yes, I took a friend with me, who also took notes and heard what I heard. (Thank you, E.!)

The new plan is (drum roll, please!) more chemo. A different kind this time, since the last kind didn’t work as well as we’d hoped. It seems that I have choices this time: I can take Taxotere, or Alimta, or I can participate in a research study which will administer Taxotere, or Alimta, or Taxotere + Erbitux, or Alimta + Erbitux. All of those drugs are proven cancer-fighters; the research is to see which drug Erbitux works the best with.

We will start the new chemo regimen after I decide whether to participate in the research study. I’m thinking about it, and this weekend I will read the info the doctor gave me, and then I'll think some more. I’ll try not to hurt myself.

There will be no more radiation on my lung (had my limit!), and the liver doesn’t respond well to radiation, so that translates to no more radiation! Sort of a mixed blessing, really, because as awful as it was, it worked.

So, all in all, it’s good news. Y’all can relax now. I’m OK; just a bit ticked that I have to have MORE chemo, but also grateful that I can. These new chemo drugs have different side effects than the last ones, including, but not limited to: mouth and lip sores, bloating, loss of appetite, and of course, hair loss--so I'm really not looking forward to those. Maybe I'll get lucky & won't get hit too hard.

That's the scoop. Like I said, it's good news. Thanks for the good thoughts, and the prayers. I know that I'd be a raving lunatic by now if not for the good work that y'all do.

2007-02-06T18:21:00.000-08:00

Tuesday's news

Today’s entry is short—there’s not much going on--I'm just waiting. You’d think I’d be getting pretty good at it by now! I’m feeling pretty good, my spirits are good, and I’m clinging to what I know to be true. There’s no reason to play “what if”, or let my imagination run wild; that won’t help me. I’m working, eating, sleeping, and trying to keep a normal schedule because that will help me.

I went to work wig-less for the first time on Monday. My co-workers seemed to like the new look--but it sure is different from my blonde wig! I’ve noticed that some people who would give me a second look when I was blonde barely even acknowledge me now. Am I offended? Nah. Being blonde was fun while it lasted, but this new hair is so much more striking. And if I change my mind, Clairol can be here in just a few minutes!

My next doctor appointment is Thursday, February 8, at 3 p.m. I have a friend going with me, just in case. It seems that so much hinges on what the doctor says, and I have lots to do. Some of it is quite timely, like getting the taxes done, and other things can wait a while, like getting the closet cleaned. I need to get as much done as I can before any treatments begin, because I know how I’ll feel then. I’ll try not to whine much, but I’m making no promises!

Thanks for being here. Knowing that people care is what is keeping me sane.

2007-02-03T13:04:00.000-08:00

The results

I had the PET scan on Friday. My appointment was for 10:00, and I was back to work at noon. Just after 2 p.m., my surgeon called with the results of the scan. The news isn’t good, nor is it unexpected. The troublemaker spot on my liver is more cancer. Not a different kind; the lung cancer has metastasized into my liver, which means that surgery won’t heal me. It’s back to the oncologist for treatment.

On Friday, several people asked me if I had heard any results yet, and I just wasn’t ready to share that news; I hope they will forgive me. I felt like I had to absorb this new development, then inform my family before I shared it with everyone else.

I don’t know what my options are at this point. I called the oncologist late on Friday afternoon to get a first available appointment, but was not successful. I’ll call on Monday morning and start that ball rolling. Again.

I’m full of anger and disbelief. I followed the instructions. I ate. I rested. I made and attended the follow-up appointments. I was recovering. I was progressing well, everybody said so, so WHAT HAPPENED??

So many questions. So much frustration.

2007-01-30T16:56:00.000-08:00

Phase III postponed

Another roadblock. %@*&^. Double *&%#@.

The CT scan I had January 19 showed 3 spots on my liver, so my doctor ordered an MRI, which I had on Sunday. Two of those spots are nothing, they’re just spots. The third one is a troublemaker; we just don’t know what kind yet. To figure it out, a PET scan is in order. Well, my insurance company requires a 48-hour pre-approval period before allowing a PET scan. In 48 hours, I have surgery scheduled. My surgeon won’t perform the surgery without the PET scan because he wants to know two things: 1) if the spot is harmless, or 2) if it’s the cancer metastasizing into my liver. If it’s the former, we have no problem at all. If it’s the latter, then surgery is not our first option anyway. And so, since we don’t have 48 hours before surgery for the PET scan, the surgery has been cancelled. The PET scan is now scheduled for Friday morning. What we do next depends on what the scan shows. Once again, it’s a “wait and see” situation, the kind that frustrates and aggravates me the most.

Am I anxious? You bet. I'm annoyed that I was ready for this surgery and now we have to stop it. This is the 2nd time we've NOT done the surgery. (Check July 28 blog entry.) For good reason, I have to say, but still, I was emotionally ready for this, and now I have to re-group and wait. ^%#*&.

I am also very grateful to have a surgeon who is willing to check and double check when he’s suspicious of a situation. He’s been right on target every time, and as annoyed as I am to have yet another IV test, I’m glad that he doesn’t want to operate unnecessarily.

So, no surgery on Thursday, and PET scan on Friday, and men in the white coats on Saturday with a special coat for me….

At this point, I’m much calmer than I was earlier. This morning I was ready to seriously hurt people, whereas now I just want to poke them with a stick. Repeatedly.

Stay tuned.

2007-01-27T14:19:00.000-08:00

Getting ready

I’m getting more relaxed—no, just less uptight—about the upcoming surgery. Some of the preparations have been made, and others are waiting patiently in their spot in line, and others are still waiting to make it onto the list. Some things I can’t do too soon, otherwise I’ll just have to do them again, like clean the house. (And heaven forbid that the vacuum cleaner runs more than absolutely necessary.)

It would be a huge understatement to say that I don’t want to have this surgery. I know that everything up to this point was in preparation for it. But now that it’s here, I’m losing my macho and enthusiasm, and I don’t want to play anymore. I feel like I’ve been thrown under a bus —a couple of times—and there’s still a couple of buses waiting with their engines revving. It’s hard to do something that you know will make you feel rotten. And then heal from that, and do it again. And again. Bottom line: I don’t want to do this because I’m a big, ol’ chicken. But since I have no choice, I’ll be there Thursday morning, kicking and screaming, insurance card in one hand, rabbit’s foot in the other.

I’ve decided that when I go to have the surgery, the wig stays home. I now have enough hair to be seen from a distance, and I’m quite OK with being wig-less. The new look is quite different, and I like it better. My new hair is salt and pepper colored, very short and sassy looking, and soft like baby hair. So anyone who comes to visit should not be looking for short-ish blonde hair because that’ll be at home on the dresser. Permanently, I hope.

Since this is as much a record for me as information for you, I felt obligated to share this little wrinkle. After the CT scan was read last week, I was told that there are spots on my liver. So now I get to have an MRI on Sunday (SUNDAY?? Surely I jest—but no) to check out my liver and brain. I’m fairly certain that there’s nothing in my brain (y’all go ahead and laugh, it’s OK), and the doctor is fairly certain that these spots are just spots, so we’re not worrying. At this point, we have nothing to worry about; all we know is that my liver has spots. (Should I call them liver spots? No? ) When I know more info, I’ll post it.

Thanks for being here. I know y’all will take good care of me. Again.

2007-01-23T17:41:00.000-08:00

Phase III

It’s official. Surgery date is a week from Thursday, on February 1, at 9:45 a.m., at Duke Health Hospital in Raleigh. (This hospital used to be Raleigh Community on Wake Forest Road.) I had a very long talk with my surgeon, and he agreed that it’s time to do this, if we’re going to. And so we are. All I have to do is show up, and he’s going to do the hard part. There are several parts to the surgery, which will take 3-5 hours. The first part is a bronchoscopy, which is a tube down my trachea to look into my lungs. The 2nd part is a diagnostic thoracoscopy, which is a camera in the chest to biopsy the lymph nodes. (It’ll get there via the hole for the chest tube.) The 3rd part is the thorachotomy, which is the incision for the removal of the lower lobe of my left lung. (The incision will be on my back, between my shoulder blade and spine.) The 4th part will be the installation of the intercostal muscle flap, which is a procedure where Dr. White will cut off a piece of rib muscle and use it to seal the severed bronchial tube to avoid infection, much like patching a tire. The last part will be the dissection of the lymph nodes. And then I’ll get all stitched up, and Phase III is done.

Once again, I’m getting my ducks in a row, and this time, they’re going. I guess they’ve been lined up so often that they’re used to it by now. Let’s see what’s on the list: Get house clean. Make living arrangements for the boys while I’m in the hospital. Check on bus schedule for youngest son. Stock up on easy-to-cook food and snacks for when I’m home. Make arrangements for the dog. Pay bills. Wash all the clothes. Get the list of errand-runners. Schedule the food-bringers. I’m sure there’s more, and probably something big that I’m forgetting. It will probably come to me the morning of surgery, when I can do nothing about it. You know, I’ve known that this surgery was coming, from way back in August. I’ve recited the order of events so often that it was my mantra. And now that it’s here, I’m a little panicky about it. My mind is racing with all the big things I need to do, and all those little details to attend. Oh, I’ll be fine later, but right now, I’m just a little testy. Imagine that!

So there’s the latest plan. I wanted to give as much info as possible so that everybody knows what’s happening. And that way, when (not if) I forget, y’all can remind me. Thanks.

2007-01-19T17:34:00.000-08:00

It's Friday!

I went back to the dentist today--my temporary crown fell off and it had to be replaced. It was his day off, but he insisted that I come right in to the office. He was afraid that I'd glue the crown back on with superglue. Can't imagine where he got that idea.

Got the CAT scan today also, and while I was waiting, I saw a Reader’s Digest sitting on the table. The article that caught my eye was “Doctors Gamble with Your Life”. Yup, same article I saw way back in July. I read it again; my doctors were not mentioned--a good omen! The CAT scan is the one where I drink the 2 bottles of contrast liquid --apple flavor this time and not too bad--and have the IV contrast dye injected. The whole procedure took about 15 minutes. The results will be put on a CD and delivered to the surgeon.

I spoke with my surgeon very briefly today, and I get to meet with him on Tuesday to finalize the surgery plans. All of the chemo and radiation were in preparation for surgery, so there really is not much to discuss with Dr. White, except the when and where. Once I get details, I'll post them so we'll all know. As usual, I don't want to do this part. My life is finally getting back to the usual rythmn, and I hate to disrupt it again. I've had surgery before and it's no picnic. There are still lots of unknowns and still no guarantees. Once again, I'm getting ahead of myself, and dreading the event before I even have details about it. Geez.

And then Phase III will begin. I'll need for y'all to hold my hand again.

2007-01-17T18:51:00.000-08:00

The Wednesday Update

I think it’s time for another update.

I got that pesky tooth fixed on Wednesday. I have an appointment for a CAT scan on Friday. I have an appointment for a consultation with the surgeon on Tuesday. I swear, I’m hitting doctors’ offices more often than the refrigerator these days!

The one place I'm not hitting is the radiation room. I just can’t tell you all how much I enjoy NOT taking radiation. It’s just amazing how good I felt once the beatings stopped! The burn on my back is healing very quickly; now it’s just pink and peeling. In a few weeks, it’ll be just a distant horrible memory. I can eat almost whatever I want to now; food that is spicy hurts a little, as well as drinks that are icy cold or steaming hot.

Although I’m not feeling exhausted by the radiation anymore, I am feeling somewhat tired from the stupid cancer. I still cough, especially when I’m overdoing. My throat is still sore, and I wake up many times during the night. I have trouble breathing when I walk too much, or too fast, or carry something. Then I have to slow down, or sometimes, stop completely. I have trouble breathing when I talk too much and then I just have to stop talking altogether. (You just know that everybody around me enjoys that!)

I’ve discovered that I sleep much better when I take a walk in the evenings, even though I have to walk slowly. The dog likes going with me; he doesn’t care how fast or slow we go, as long as he gets to sniff every shrub along the way.

Last week, I worked 2 full days (don’t tell E.!), and intend to work full days this week. So far, I don’t feel any more tired this week than when I was working half days. I’ve been cooking and laundering and shopping and doing just a (very) little cleaning. I figure that it’s time to get back to normal for a while, while I can, before the next phase of treatment knocks me flat again. Yes, the fun just never ends!

Thanks for being here. It’s good to be so well taken care of.

2007-01-11T17:31:00.000-08:00

Thursday

It’s been a little over a week after radiation ended, and I feel much better! I didn’t realize how bad I felt until I started getting well again. And because I was feeling so much better, I decided that I could work a little more than a half day. So I did. Tuesday I went home at 2:30, and decided that I still needed to take it easy, so I only did 2 loads of laundry, walked the dog, and cooked some chili for dinner. Easy stuff. Apparently not easy enough, because on Wednesday I was tired, my jaw hurt, and I was having a hard time breathing. (Yes, E., you were right. Again.) But you know, it’s SO hard to rest when I feel so darn good. And the boys are resuming their lives because ol’ Mom seems to be feeling fine now. Yes, they still do whatever I ask, but now they seem surprised that I need help. And so am I. Now I know that I didn’t get sick all at once, and won’t heal all at once. I get it. It’s still hard to take it easy.

It’s funny (and you know I mean NOT) that I’m still feeling some of the effects of the tumor and radiation. I still burp after eating or drinking, but not as much as before. The radiation burn is still tender. I still spend about 20 minutes coughing every morning. Some foods are still touchy to swallow--although not enough to stop me! My jaw and ear still ache sometimes. I still have pressure in my chest periodically. Breathing is labored if I walk fast or walk up stairs. After just a little exertion (like carrying groceries), my heart pounds. I feel better if I take ibuprofen each morning. I’m surprised at all these things. Logic tells me that the effects of the radiation will be here for a while, and I still have the tumor, so why wouldn’t I feel it? Still, I was sort of expecting to be “fixed” after all that chemo & killer radiation. I know, I know, the chemo & radiation were in preparation for the surgery. The purpose of the C & R regimen was to zap the cancer in the lymph nodes, and to shrink the tumor to make the removal more successful. (Although I’m told that the removal of the bottom lobe of my left lung is what will happen—I still don’t quite get why the tumor had to be shrunk if the lung will be removed anyway. Maybe they just didn’t want it to get bigger and latch onto something else. Maybe they’re keeping their options open regarding removal of the lung vs. just the tumor. Maybe the radiation crew needed new sports cars this year.)

I was reading over some old blog entries, and I have noticed that progress has been made in lots of areas. I no longer run hot and cold constantly. My fingernails are back to normal (darn!). I have eyebrows and eyelashes again! The radiation burn is shrinking; it’s now about the size of an oval softball, as opposed to not-quite-football size. I don’t have food cravings. I’m cooking more and eating more, and gaining a little weight. And the oddest thing of all: I no longer have the desire to eat chocolate by the bucketful.

Thanks for being here.

2007-01-08T13:34:00.000-08:00

Phase III

Well, today’s visit with the oncologist was mostly a follow-up visit. After I told him how I was feeling, he told me what's coming next, and here it is: I’ll get a CT scan soon (don’t have a date yet), and on Jan. 23, I’ll have a visit with the surgeon, Dr. White. I think that visit will be more of a planning session than anything, to check my overall health & make the arrangements for surgery. I’ll know more after I talk with him. This surgeon looks quite young but is well trained. My oncologist said that he is the best candidate for this procedure, so I’m glad to have him. There won’t be any more “Dr. Doogie” jokes from me regarding Dr. White. I wouldn’t want something like that to come back to haunt me, say in a month or so, now would I?

I must say, I’m feeling VERY good these days! The further I get from daily radiation, the better I feel. I’m eating, I’m getting more energy, and I’m feeling like my real self again. The burn on my back is healing (it’s still VERY tender, still looks like ^#$&*, and itches like it, too), but getting better every day. I went to a party this past weekend where there was an incredible amount of amazing food, and I could eat every single thing there! (I didn’t because I wanted to save some for the other guests.) I didn’t have any alcohol (I was driving), so I don’t know how well that goes down. But one of these days, I’ll find out. It may be soon. Very soon.

I want to thank you all for being here. I know y’all were carrying me on those dark days and got me back into the sunshine. What would I do without you?

2007-01-03T17:09:00.000-08:00

Wednesday

Radiation is over!! And I am doing cartwheels in my mind, just thinking about it. What a relief! This is better than the big exam being over. Better than the big presentation being over. Better than labor pains…. well, maybe not quite. Anyway, in just a couple of weeks, I’ll be able to eat whatever I want, and the burn on my back will heal. And honestly, I don’t know which of those things I want more. Fortunately, I don’t have to choose, I get both!! I have a follow up appointment with the radiation doctor at the end of the month, and then I can say good-bye to him for good.

I have an appointment with my oncologist on January 8, and I’m hoping that he’ll have a plan for me regarding surgery. I’ll know more after that visit. I think (uh-oh, there I go again!) that I’ll have about a month to regain strength and weight before the surgery, but that’s just my idea. I could be wrong.

In the meantime, I’m eating more and I had 2 cups of coffee today! Meat and starchy foods are still the hardest to get down, veggies (raw or cooked) go down OK; I have not tried fruits yet. I still eat a lot of soup, and I have not had vanilla pudding in days. I don’t miss it, either! The indigestion is better; I still burp a LOT after eating, but not as much as 2 weeks ago, and it doesn’t hurt like it did earlier, either. That’s another thing I won’t miss when this is all over.

Something else I have not had in a while: Ibuprofen. I’d been on that ‘round the clock since about April because I felt much better and didn’t cough so much when I took it. Several days ago, I remembered that I had not taken my usual morning dose, and then realized that I didn’t hurt much. It seemed like a good idea to just see how long I could go without taking any, and at this point, it’s been just over a week. Today has been particularly hard, with lots of coughing and pressure in my chest, so I may take some at bedtime. We shall see.

Thanks for being here. It’s good to celebrate with the ones that kept me moving forward. Now we can rest for a little while.

2006-12-31T07:00:00.000-08:00

Just one more

Oh, happy day!! I have 1 more radiation to go, and then the Radiation Completion Dance of Joy can begin. Have I mentioned that I hate radiation? I know it’s a love/hate relationship—after all, it IS helping to make me well—and also trying to kill me. It makes me incredibly tired. It makes the burn on my back sting, ache, and itch like a %$#^. It makes swallowing difficult. But with only 1 more to go, I’m confident that I’m going to survive this battle, although for a while there, I wasn’t so sure. Weeks 3 and 4 were especially hard, and I was really struggling. The original plan was to have 30 treatments, and I will end up with 36. I don’t know why, maybe they just like to see me squirm. (After giving this a little thought, it occurred to me that maybe the tumor was stubborn and didn’t shrink fast enough, or maybe the lymph nodes needed a few more zaps than originally planned. Doesn’t matter. Once again, I’m following the doctors on blind faith, since their medical degrees are probably more up to date than mine.)

Despite the radiation, I’m not feeling any worse now than I was a week ago, which surprises me some. I thought that I’d be feeling more and more fatigued all the time, a little worse every day until the radiation was over. It seems that I have reached a “fatigue plateau” and just stayed there. Hey, I’m not complaining at all, this level of fatigue is mostly tolerable. In fact, some days I have a surprising amount of energy and can do things like walk the dog and pay the bills (not simultaneously). Napping during the day is now a rarity, instead of an everyday occurrence.

Earlier this week, I cooked dinner (first time in weeks!) and we had real food. Yes. I could eat the shrimp, green beans and the bread without much pain, but the potato…well, there’s one in every crowd, I guess. In these last few days, I’ve noticed that I can eat more things with less pain than last week. YEEHAA! Soon, I’ll be off soft food and can make up for all this lost time! (Just after I wrote the previous line, I was having dinner, and bit down on something hard. Yes, it’s another cosmic joke on me: I’ve broken a tooth, all the way to the gumline; it feels like about ½ of the tooth is gone. And it’s a holiday weekend. Of course.)

Tooth notwithstanding, I feel pretty good. Because I feel as good as I do, I know that the good thoughts, prayers and the get-well vibes that I’ve received are definitely working. Without them, I’d be a skinnier and even more lethargic mess. Thanks for doing what y’all do.

2006-12-26T08:13:00.000-08:00

Random thoughts and good news

No news today, there's just some things running through what's left of my mind. Here's my status on:

Medicine: It seems that every medicine I took made a problem that it took another medicine to fix, so I quit taking them. All I take is children’s ibuprofen. It’s a wonder drug, no doubt. Tastes awful, but keeps me reasonably pain free, and for some reason, stops my runny nose and cough.

Working: Yes, if I can get out of bed, I go to work. It’s part of not letting the beast win. I work half a day, say good bye to my co-workers, and come home and rest for the remainder of the day.

Rest: I spend considerable time on the couch, and in a chair. Some days I am very tired, other days, I’m just “regular” tired. I go to bed around 9 p.m., and rarely sleep through the night. I stay in bed, though; there’s a good chance that if I’m lying down, I’ll go back to sleep. And I usually do.

Being tired: I’m always tired, just varying degrees of what is tolerable. I can sit for hours and be Ok, but standing or walking around just wipes me out. When I’ve been moving around too much, I start to cough. Likewise, when I’ve been talking too much, I start to lose my breath while talking. That happens a lot.

Housework: I try to get one thing done per day, and most days that works pretty well. I can manage to do a load of laundry every couple of days, I load the dishwasher now and then, and once in a while I vacuum. But not often. My boys help out considerably, although sometimes I have to catch them first. I have a neighbor who cleans my kitchen and bathrooms on a regular basis, and that makes me happy.

I have good news!

The good news: My hair is coming back nicely.
The bad news: So is my mustache.

The good news: My taste buds are coming back.
The bad news: I can eat only soft, bland, room temperature foods.

The good news: I don’t feel bad from the cancer anymore!
The bad news: The treatments may very well kill me.

The good news: The boys are doing more of the cleaning.
The bad news: It’s better than mine.

The good news: I’m finally at a weight that I really like.
The bad news: It’s only temporary.

The good news: Today is my last chemo until after surgery!
The bad news: I still get chemo after surgery.

The good news: My support system is alive and well.
The bad news: I can’t thank them enough for all they do for me.

2006-12-21T12:58:00.000-08:00

A better week!

I know, I know, no posting in a week. There’s just no news. I’ve been working ½ days, getting radiation every day, resting often, and letting a lot of things slide. I do have to say that this week has been somewhat better than last week, treatment-wise, that is. Chemo Monday went much, MUCH better this week, and next week I’ll learn if I have one more chemo or if I’m through with it for this phase. I have 6 more radiations to go, if they don’t kill me, and then I’m through with those. Permanently, I hope. The radiation burn on my back is really looking nasty now. It’s still 6 -7 inches long, and 4 -5 inches wide. It’s beginning to itch a lot, even though I put cream on it every night. The burn on the front is not so bad; it looks like a medium sunburn.

Food is still an issue. Can’t eat anything cold or hot, anything with texture or spice (that includes salt & pepper), can’t have fruit, nuts, or meat, and dairy products are iffy, at best. Everything hurts to eat, but some things hurt much less than others. So what am I eating? Jell-o. Lots of chicken soup. Soft boiled or scrambled eggs. Almost-room-temperature cottage cheese. Some cream of mushroom or potato soup, but the added milk sometimes upsets my stomach. (And sometimes doesn’t.) I can also eat instant pudding and tapioca pudding, ditto on the milk. I was craving French fries the other day, and bought a fast food sandwich to go with them. Oh, I took a fry, and chewed it, and it was delicious. And then I swallowed it. Little ouch. And then I had another. Chewed it and chewed it until it was mush, and then swallowed. Bigger ouch. I think I gave up on fry # 4. And the sandwich was just a joke. I ended up giving it and the rest of the fries to my son, who happily gobbled them down. (That’s the 2nd meal of mine he’s enjoyed! I think I see a pattern here.)

Along those same lines, I’m losing a bit of weight. Don’t panic, it’s only a couple of pounds. And I like the new weight, but it won’t be here long. Once I can eat real food again, it’ll be gone in a flash. Really. So I’m going to enjoy this while I can, and relish in the knowledge that I won’t be gaining those 5 -7 holiday pounds this year! (And cursing it all the while, too, because I can’t eat any goodies!)

My hair is looking good these days. (Well, compared to not having any!) It’s about ¼” long, and what’s not white is black. It feels like the soft side of Velcro, and is longer on the top than on the sides. I still wear the wig when I’m out and about, mostly just to avoid attention. At home, I wear a bandanna because my head still gets cold. And I’m reconsidering coloring it when it’s long enough…this black & white look could be interesting! We shall see.

Thanks for being here. It’s good to share good (or even non) news with y’all!

2006-12-14T13:10:00.000-08:00

Thursday

Yes, I know it’s been days since I’ve posted anything. I've been busy. I've been working and resting and eating and sleeping. Sometimes I do laundry. I cooked dinner one day this week. I even washed some dishes that same day. I took the dog for a walk 2 days in a row. See? Busy, I tell you!

Let me tell you about Happy Juice Monday. Oh, that was a fiasco. If it hadn’t been happening to me, it would have been funny. Or maybe not. Seems that the radiation and chemo departments were running late that day (I had appointments in both areas), my chart had been lost, I had to get stuck twice for the chemo IV, and I was there for over 4 hours for what should have taken about 2 ½. And I was starving. I left there ready to pull out someone else’s hair. (Not mine; it's just now coming back!)

Today I visited with the doctor and learned how much radiation I’ll be getting for the last few treatments. As it turns out, I have 11 more treatments with the same dose of radiation. The good part is that the angle will change slightly, so maybe in a few days, my esophagus won't be quite so irritated and I can eat something good. Like a cookie. Or have a cup of coffee.

On the plus side, I’ve been eating a little real food these days and boy, it is good to chew something again! Meat still hurts a lot to swallow, but if I chew it enough, sometimes it’s tolerable. Veggies are easier than meat, but fruits are still on the “no way, Jack” list. Peanut butter is also a big fat no-no, as is cough syrup, fruit juice, coffee, and spicy food. Soft food is still the easiest, so I eat that the most, but I sure am getting tired of it. I did try the baby food – yams burn like fire going down, so do carrots, and the chicken noodle dinner. The first ingredient of baby food “entrées” seems to be carrots, so I won’t be eating the macaroni and beef, or the turkey with rice and vegetables. The corn casserole was pretty tasty, though. I may eat more of that. (Hey, it’s a nice change from vanilla pudding!)

Thanks for being here. This game is getting a little old, but I gotta play for a while longer. I'm glad I have y'all for my teammates.

2006-12-10T05:21:00.000-08:00

Boy, talk about a rude awakening!

This weekend, I was feeling pretty good. I was not in much pain, was able to eat small bites of soft food as often as I wanted to, my endurance was better, I even took the dog for a long, slow walk. And I was thinking that the worst may be over, that these last 2 weeks of chemo and radiation would be OK. Yessiree, we’re on the home stretch, only 10 more radiations to go, and I’m not quitting now. Got the right attitude, got the right support, and take THAT, Skippy!

And then I realized that I didn’t have chemo last Monday.

Chemo does its own work just fine. Its job is to run through the bloodstream, employing a seek and destroy move on cancer cells. Radiation does its job very well, also. Its job is to shrink the tumor in my lung with the added benefit of reducing my energy level and eating ability. When they work together, their effects are intensified. So, when I had the radiation all this week, I wasn’t getting that extra kick that the chemo brings to the table in the form of more fatigue, more exhaustion, less appetite, and less activity.

I get chemo again tomorrow.

Crud. And $^&*#.

That’s what I get for thinking again. Geez.

2006-12-07T16:41:00.000-08:00

A better day

Oh, what a difference a day makes!

Wednesday I was feeling pretty bad. I went to work for half the day, and was just exhausted when I left. My head hurt, my throat hurt, my back hurt where the radiation burn is (it’s about 6 or 7 inches long, 4 or 5 inches wide, oval shaped), and I was just beat. Once I came home after radiation and had a nap, I was a bit better, but still tired. Theresa came over with food to try; and by golly, I tried most of it. It turns out that while rice pudding tastes awesome, it hurts the most. Mashed potatoes are also a no-no. Cream of mushroom soup works, but the chocolate pudding doesn’t. Along with other goodies, she also brought me some Jell-o. Jell-o still goes down easy, as long as I take tiny bites. I know that I can’t survive on Jell-o and pudding, so I bought some baby food to eat. I haven’t tried it yet, but I will, and will let y’all know how yummy it is. Wednesday night, I took some liquid ibuprofen (tastes awful, but it works great!) and ate some vanilla pudding and went to bed. I slept most of the night, not waking up until morning. Just sleeping the entire night made a huge difference; I didn’t wake up in pain even once. It makes for a much better day.

It was suggested to me that I take Thursday off, and I decided to go ahead and stay home and rest. And I did. And I rested and snacked all day long and felt pretty darn good. Still fatigued, but not unbearably so.

I got good news at the radiologist, too! I have only 11 more treatments, and on Tuesday or Wednesday, the amount of radiation will change to a lesser amount. This means that while I won’t be feeling energetic, I won’t be much more tired than I currently am. This also means that the treatments are progressing as predicted, no surprises or detours here. It’s a satisfying feeling to know that all this misery has not been in vain, and I am grateful to know that I am making progress.

I’m also grateful to have y’all here with me. The comments on the blog, the cards, letters, and emails I get keep me encouraged and hopeful. Thanks.

2006-12-05T18:06:00.000-08:00

Tuesday

Well, I now know why no one had any encouraging stories regarding radiation. The reason? There aren’t any. Radiation is awful. It very quietly zaps energy and appetite. And it’s cumulative, so every zap adds to the one before, so that every day, I am more tired and less hungry than the day before. I have reached the point where swallowing anything hurts a lot. It feels like I’ve swallowed a hot charcoal briquette. It doesn’t hurt in my throat at all, the pain is in my esophagus and in my back. Fortunately, I decided that starving to death was not an option, so just last night I learned how to eat and drink. I can take tiny sips (think baby spoon size) of room temperature water, and I can eat tiny bites of soft food, like pudding and soup. Yes, it takes much longer to eat and drink that way, but the food stays down and it doesn’t hurt as much to swallow it.

I learned today that I can take children's liquid ibuprofen for pain! Since I can't swallow pills anymore, I had to say good-bye to my daily Motrin and multi-vitamin. I was in considerable pain so I was happy to know that I could take something. It tastes awful, though.

I was very puny on Monday. I went to work, stayed exactly an hour and a half, then came home and spent the day on the couch. I did take time to go for chemo (it was Monday, after all), and was not well enough for it, so I got a reprieve. I did get radiation, though, I guess one is never too sick to be zapped. I talked with my oncologist regarding pain, radiation, and medicine. I told him that I’d been pretty sick most of the day, with vomiting and fatigue and was unable to eat. The vomiting was caused by one of the pain meds, which was supposed to help me eat. Ironic, huh? I took the medicine, hoping to be able to consume something worthwhile, and ended up losing it all. The good doctor and I discussed taking a break from the radiation. After giving that about 1 second’s thought, I declined that offer. If I take a break, I’m not going back. And so the doctor suggested talking with Dr. White (the surgeon) to see if I can be put on his schedule sooner than planned. After thinking that over for about 3 seconds, I declined that offer, too, saying that 30 rounds of radiation were prescribed for a reason, and stopping in the middle may make it all in vain. What I want is just to be able to eat. So if we can deal with the painful swallowing somehow, I’m willing to keep going. I have a new prescription for a different kind of painkiller, along with a prescription for nausea. Now that I have learned how to eat, maybe I won’t need them. We’ll see how this goes.

(I just may follow Bon Cheri Bomb’s advice --see her comment on previous entry-- and start eating baby food. What the heck, it’s soft, it’s about the right amount, and apparently healthy.)

I have good news! The other day, I was looking in the mirror and saw… could it be? YES!! I have HAIR!! Oh, it’s soft and fuzzy, like a puppy’s ear, and very, very short, and most of it is white (White?? No matter, Clairol and I will fix that!), and I was happy to see it! I was doing the Snoopy dance around the room. I’ll be wearing the wig for a while until it grows enough to be seen from a distance. Just thinking about it makes me smile. I keep messing with it--I hope I don’t rub it all off! I have hair, I have hair! Heehee.

Thanks for being here.

2006-12-02T06:17:00.000-08:00

Saturday

The days are really getting harder now, and I’ve decided that I’m going to be working partial days for a while. I don’t want to, but working full days is wearing me out. I need to rest up so I can go to work the next day. This fatigue really ticks me off, to say the least. I can do one or two little things and then I have to sit and rest. And I can’t even work up a good snit over it, because I don’t have the energy to do so. #@*^&.

I’ve discovered that I don’t feel bad from the cancer anymore, which is very good news. However, I feel rotten from the treatments --how ironic is that?? It’s funny (and you know I don’t mean ha-ha) that the treatments that make me well also make me feel like wet dog food with flies. And I understand that it’s going to snowball from here. Get ready for some serious whining.

I’ve gotten some medicine (good drugs!) to help with the painful swallowing, and the lump-like sensation just beside my spine. The funny thing that happened was when I first took that medicine, that I just took a teaspoonful, and drank it. Suddenly, my entire mouth, tongue, and back of my throat were numb. I couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t taste anything, and dinner was being served. Great. (Y’all know how much I hate to miss a meal!) Luckily, it didn’t last too long, the numbness went away, and I enjoyed my dinner.

Speaking of dinner, yes, I’m eating. Not a lot, but I’m eating. I’ve found that room-temperature food hurts the least to swallow, small sips using a straw hurts less than a drink from a glass, and that multi-vitamins are darn near impossible to get down. I also feel full sooner, which means I’m generally eating less at one sitting. But because I’m eating less, I get hungry more often, so I get to snack more. It evens out. (Come to think of it, I haven’t had dark chocolate in days. Oh, that just can’t be right, can it?)

Thanks for being here. It’s a comfort to know that my cheering squad is right here, surrounding me with happy thoughts and good wishes.

2006-11-29T17:31:00.000-08:00

Wednesday

Bad news: The aforewarned sore throat is here, along with the ache when I swallow, and the painful burping after ingesting anything. All caused by radiation. My friend E. said that radiation is evil, and she is right. It doesn’t hurt, it’s not loud, there are no bright lights, but it sure does put me down. I know it’s all temporary, which is what I have to focus on instead of the discomfort. (You know, like a migraine has discomfort.)

More bad news: last night, I ordered a take-out of my favorite Chinese dish from my favorite Chinese restaurant, and I enjoyed the aroma all the way home. Once home, I got out the plates and the bowls, drooling the whole time. My son and I ate the soup. YUM. Wonderful stuff. And then it was time for the main event. I put the rice on my plate, snuck a bite of the meat, ready for that sweet and hot tang and ….. ewww. Huh?? It wasn’t good. So I took another bite, thinking that maybe it was just that first one that wasn’t so good. Nope, the second bite was also not good. So, I offered some to my son, who happily took a big bite and decided that ol’ Mom really shouldn’t eat any more of that, and that he’d be doing me a huge favor if he ate it, since it was so awful and all, as he was chewing faster and faster, having a few more bites. I wrestled it back from him, stirred it up a little, and took one more bite, and waited for the taste buds to acknowledge my favorite Chinese dish. Nope. They decided that dinner would be a few bites of fried rice, and then a cup of hot chocolate. I hope my son enjoyed my dinner.

However, there is good news! My mysterious Skippy bracelet buddies (they know who they are, and I don’t) got together and decided to help me in a very thoughtful way. Imagine my surprise to receive that gift! To all of you, I say thank you. Please know that I am very, very grateful, and appreciate your kindness and generosity.

More good news! My co-workers, angels that they are, also got together and purchased several gift cards to local restaurants. Now on those nights when no one will be cooking, someone can go and get a tasty meal. There are also gift cards to a grocery store, so when I need to send someone out for 1 thing or a whole list, I won’t have to worry about having cash on hand.

The days are getting harder, and I can feel many hands taking care of me. Thanks for being here.

2006-11-26T11:17:00.000-08:00

Sunday

It’s been a very good weekend. I had forgotten how it feels to feel good. I’ve had 4 days of no chemo and no radiation, and boy, could I get used to this! Despite the slight fatigue, a little breathlessness, and the periodic shooting pain in my jaw, I feel pretty darn good today. And I’m going to enjoy it, too, because tomorrow it’s back to the routine of Chemo Monday, and radiation every weekday. Yeah, I can’t wait.

I’m having the aforewarned discomfort when I swallow. My throat doesn’t hurt (yet), but when I swallow anything, it feels like it’s too big to get down. Just a little ache every time I swallow. I’m trying to remember to take small bites, chew the food longer, and swallow slowly. I don’t even know if that helps, but I guess it can’t hurt. I also have indigestion, thanks to the radiation. No matter what I eat, I burp for hours afterward, and it hurts. (My apologies if this is too much info!) My doctor advised that I take liquid antacids with simethicone, (like Mylanta or Maalox), and that helps some. It seems that every treatment that makes me well has a side effect that needs its own treatment. Sheesh. I’m glad that this is a temporary place.

Thanks for being here. The friends, co-workers, family members, and everyone else who is here is helping me through this journey. I’m grateful to all who have held my hand, pulled me up, and carried me through the dark days. I stay strong because y’all do.

2006-11-23T07:43:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving!

I had an interesting email this morning. A wonderful friend sent me Thanksgiving greetings, and it got me to thinking of how much I truly have to be thankful for. There's a lot. Get comfy.

I'm thankful for pain. (Huh?) Yes. Pain is an indication that something is wrong. Without pain, we'd never know the extent of an injury, or the severity of a sickness.

I'm thankful for modern medicine. And good drugs.

I'm thankful for nice-looking doctors. (Hey, I'm sick, not dead!)

I'm thankful for nurses, technicians, and medical assistants. They do a lot of legwork without a lot of recognition, and they often go above and beyond the usual expectations.

I'm thankful to be employed at my job. The people there are awesome. They are caring, supportive, funny, and they adopted me before I knew it.

I'm grateful for my kids. They have really stepped up since I've been sick and have done everthing I've asked, and they have not let me down once. J., you can be proud of your boys.

I'm grateful for Mom's sausage and celery stuffing, which I will eat too much of later today.

I'm grateful for Dad's generosity. I haven't had a request turned down yet.

I'm thankful for our military. They are doing the job the rest of us don't want to do.

I'm thankful for Thanksgiving parades that I can watch on TV.

I'm thankful for those people who take care of me.

I'm thankful for my big, ol' lazy dog. If not for him, I'd never go for a walk and enjoy my neighborhood. He's ready any time, and will walk as long and as far as I do, and he never complains about the heat or the cold.

I'm grateful for a car that runs, a house with heat and food, enough money to pay the bills, and affordable makeup.

And I am grateful for those who keep me inspired. Thank you.

I hope your Thanksgiving Day is filled with the people and things that you love the best.

2006-11-20T15:57:00.000-08:00

Answers

I’m getting questions again, so it’s time for the answers. Here goes.

1. Yes, I’m working. Full days most of the time, with time off for Happy Juice Monday. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to work full days, but you can bet the rent that I’ll work as long as I can. Part of this battle is not letting the beast win.

2. No, there’s been no nausea. None. Zero. Not even for a minute. I get good anti-nausea drugs (which I get in IV form) along with my chemo, and more by pill if I need it.

3. Yes, I’m eating. As of today, I don’t have trouble swallowing and my throat is not sore enough to keep me from food. I understand that that may change, and if it does, I’ll deal with it then. I’ll be in mourning if I can’t eat chocolate!

4. No, I don’t feel as good as I’d like to. The wig, the makeup, and the Motrin are all tools that I use to trick myself into feeling better. The “fake it ‘til you make it” mentality is alive and well. On the other hand, I don’t feel terrible, either, and certainly much, MUCH better than I did 6 months ago.

5. Yes, I’m letting some things slide. Some things are just not getting done and some things I’m asking others to do. I figure that if lots of people can do just one thing, then it’ll all get done, and my house will remain upright, clean-ish, and well-stocked.

6. No, keeping the blog is not a problem. It’s a good record for me, and a good way to keep others informed of events. I know some people want to talk to me to see for themselves, and what they get is my short-of-breath voice, telling them that yes, I am OK. (Talking on the phone is still hard.)

7. Yes, my kids are OK. They don’t ask many questions, so I keep them informed of what’s going on constantly. I’m leaning on them more and more for help—it’s a win-win since they are learning to cook (better), and launder (more often), and clean (when I can catch them).

8. No, I don’t know exactly when the surgery is. I have 5 more weeks of radiation (with time off for holidays), and then I get to rest up for a few weeks before Dr. White can do his work.

9. Yes, I have bad days. There are days when my throat, jaw, ear, and head hurt, I cough a lot, I have no energy, and I just want to stay home and be poor little me. And then I think that I’ll be damned if I’ll give the beast a toehold on this day. Repeat after me: I don’t think so, Skippy.

2006-11-18T16:34:00.000-08:00

Saturday

Today was a rough day. I had chemo on Monday, and radiation all week long, and boy, today it caught up with me. I went to bed last night with no Aleve (completely by accident), and slept reasonably well without it. However, I woke up in pain and very lethargic and stayed in bed until after 9:00 this morning, just resting and dozing. I won’t forget the Aleve again; it keeps me nearly pain-free all night and for a little while in the morning until that first dose of Motrin kicks in.

All day long the housework has been calling me, but I’ve been ignoring it. The laundry is calling me, too, but I can’t ignore that. I mean, how hard is it to load the washer and then, 60 minutes later, the dryer? I can do that much. And that may be all I do today. I’ve had 7 out of 30 radiation treatments. I hope I survive the rest! It’s funny (and by now you know that I don’t mean “humorous”) how a little 3-minute zap can wear out a human body. All I want to do after work is sit and rest. All I want to do at night is sit and rest. All I want to do on the weekend is sit and rest. I often play cards on the computer, with one eye on the TV, because those things don’t require much concentration or energy. I can see that I’ll be leaning on others for help quite a bit in this phase of treatment, simply because I can’t do the things that need doing. (That may kill me as well!)

On the plus side, I don’t have the trouble eating (yet) that was predicted. Oh, I’m sure it’s coming—everything predicted has—but so far I don’t have trouble swallowing. And that’s a good thing, too, because I need my daily chocolate allowance. Hey, when I’m too sick for chocolate, then I’m really sick!

Thanks for being here. Misery truly does love company!

2006-11-15T17:16:00.000-08:00

Wednesday evening

Last night, for the first time in weeks, I slept the entire night. I didn’t get awakened by the dog wanting to go out. I didn’t get awakened from being too cold or too hot. I didn’t get awakened by any mysterious crashes from my sons’ rooms. Today I feel great--comparatively speaking, anyway!

This is the first full week of chemo and radiation and I think it will give me a good idea of what to expect for the rest of this phase. Today is the 3rd day after a chemo treatment; traditionally the day known for its butt-kicking abilities. (I was fine in the morning, and faded a bit in the afternoon, and then turned down a dinner invitation in the evening because I just didn't feel up to going.) The chemo takes about ½ the time to administer as before; there’s less happy juice and the immediate physical effects are much less, too. (I get to drive myself home this time! Yippee!!)

The radiation makes me tired, fatigued, lethargic, and all those other words that mean “no energy”. I understand that radiation is cumulative; that is, every zap adds to the one before, so I’m going to get REAL tired before this is all over. Something else I’ve noticed, too, with the radiation: The actual radiation is completely painless, but afterward, my chest hurts, and my jaw and ear tend to hurt. (This is referred pain since the tumor itself has no nerve endings, and the sensation has to be felt somewhere.) I asked my doctor about the pain and he said that some people are more sensitive to radiation than others and make more pain receptor cells, or it could be that the tumor is shrinking, and pressing on different nerves, but we can't know for sure. I know which one I'm going to believe. It also may just go away after a few more treatments. I remember coughing violently after the first 2 solo chemo treatments, and that eventually went away, so maybe this will, too.

For those of you who have been patiently waiting for my call, it may be coming soon. Don’t go away! I still have lots more radiation to go, and surgery is upcoming, after which I’ll be recuperating at home for a month. So if I haven’t been in touch before then, I probably will be at that point.

Thanks for being here. I could not do this alone, and I know it, and I truly appreciate all the help and support I’ve been given. Y’all are the best!

2006-11-13T16:27:00.000-08:00

The one-two punch

Today I got chemo and radiation. How’d it go, you ask? Not bad. The radiation is very quick, and the new chemo regimen takes 2 hours, rather than 4. Some things didn't change: I still have to "donate" blood for the lab, and I still get weighed, and I still get an IV for the happy juice. I don’t like being stuck for bloodwork, and I don’t like getting stuck for an IV. After radiation, my chest feels very heavy, achy; like there's a weight on it, and I cough more. It's hard to breathe, and it's hard to talk sometimes. (Yeah, y'all enjoy that!) It's almost like the tumor is trying to move and get away from the zapper. I know it’s all for the greater good, but this journey is emotionally and physically draining. I tend to get frustrated at the constant fatigue, but, tough nuggets, I'll just have to hang in there for a while longer. (No, I haven’t lied to y’all, I just post on the days when I feel good.) On the other hand, I do feel OK most days. Most days.

I have lots of apprehension--I've never had cancer before. There are so many unknowns (at least to me), and while I’m assuming that these medical pros know what they’re doing, I have no proof that they actually do. (When you’re told that you have treatable cancer, you tend to take their word for it; it’s not like you shop around for cheap treatments!) So I have no references, no happy customers, who are glad to recommend my doctors and their treatment procedures. I have to follow their advice blindly, which always scares me just a little. Yes, my doctors and their staff always inform me of what’s going on, what’s coming up, and what to expect. They are kind and gentle and don’t roll their eyes when I ask the same question for the 15th time. (Hey, I have chemo brain and can’t remember squat anymore. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.) I guess I just want someone to guarantee (yes, guarantee) that at the end of this adventure that I’ll be healthy and well, and this entire ordeal will be permanently over, and that I’ll live long enough to enjoy my children having teenagers. What I’m learning is that there are no guarantees. Good lesson for me.

But I’m sure hoping to see my kids have those teenagers. Hehe!

Thanks for being here. Knowing that my cheering squad is here, right here, fighting the good fight with me is quite a comfort. Thanks.

2006-11-08T14:35:00.000-08:00

Wednesday's news

Yesterday was the day of the tattooing. And as usual, my fears were bigger than the event. (When will I learn?) I was expecting giant, disfiguring, glaring spots, about as big as a pencil eraser. What I got was a teeny, tiny, miniscule, barely-there dot, not quite this big: . Exactly what the technicians promised me, but hey, I’ve been promised things before and, well, I’m a little cynical. I have five of those teeny little dots, one on each side and 3 in the middle. They are there as guidelines for the radiologist so he (or she) can aim the zapper in exactly the right spot. We don’t want to “almost” hit the tumor, we want to smack it right in its ugly face.

That procedure started today, which I wasn’t expecting. I thought we were going to start it all on Monday—you know, new week, new procedures—but there I was, thinking again. I have to stop that. The radiation part wasn't bad at all. I just laid on the table while the zapper made buzzing and humming noises, and it was over in 5 minutes. I’ll get radiation every weekday afternoon for 6 weeks. The chemo will be done on Mondays (at least that’s what I think will happen; I’m probably wrong on that, too).

So this new adventure has begun. I wasn’t quite ready for it, but it’s here anyway; sort of like how my 40th birthday snuck up on me years ago, and that turned out to be OK. I am so grateful to have a workplace that is so very supportive of my time out, which has been and will be considerable. I am also grateful for my support groups, friends, and family, who listen to me whine in person and in print. And there are a couple of you who talk me off the ledge on a regular basis, and once I’m down, give me a smack to the back of the head. Yeah, I’m grateful to you, too.

2006-11-06T15:10:00.000-08:00

Monday, Monday

Once again, I have not posted in a few days because there’s nothing new going on. Tomorrow, I’ll get my tattoos that will show the radiologist where to aim the zapper next week. I’m not looking forward to that—did y’all know that they use NEEDLES to tattoo people?? Ouch.

More ouch: In the beginning, LOTS of people came to me with good stories of cancer and chemo, which I appreciated very much. All were stories of successful treatments, and long survivals, which kept me hopeful for my own success. (Yes, it’s all about me.) I have noticed that this time, however, there are NO stories of chemo and radiation coming my way. I don’t know if people have shared all they have, or if they know stuff that they’d rather not share because it may not be as encouraging. My doctors told me that this will be different from just chemo; and that I may get (that’s doctorspeak for “get ready for”) a very sore throat, may have trouble swallowing, may not want to eat because of the first 2 things, and suck it up, you big sissy, and eat anyway.

Speaking of eating, I had a wonderful friend bring dinner to me on Friday night. The dinner was everything it was touted to be; tasty and plentiful. But the BEST thing was the compliment I got as the delivery was made. Thank you C., I’ll float on that for weeks. Apparently, blondes really do have more fun, and if I EVER get hair again, I’m gonna color it blonde. (Wait about 6 months, then invest in stock in Clairol. And if this counts as insider trading, then I’m just kidding.)

I feel like this is the calm before yet another storm, and I’m getting ready. I can feel everyone else getting ready, too, to help me with whatever I need to get through this next phase. I don’t know exactly what to expect, but I know I can count on all of you to pull me up and carry me if I can’t carry myself. That, in itself, is calming. Thanks for being here.

2006-11-01T15:00:00.000-08:00

Finally, some news!

Yesterday was the day of the doctor visits. On the first visit, I had another CT scan to show the exact location of the tumor in my lung, and then I was marked with an X in 3 places. This is necessary to know where to aim the radiation. There is one mark on my right side, one on the left, and one in the middle. I understand the one on each side, but I don’t know why there is one in the middle. (I’ll call & find out.) It’s almost exactly over my heart. I’ll get the permanent markings--tattoos, actually--next week. The tattoos won’t be hearts, or flowers or anything fun like that, just tiny blue dots. Bummer. When I saw the temporary marks, I got a little panicky. Suddenly this was just all too real and too much to deal with; much like my reaction when I was first told that I had cancer. (You know, the “holy *%^#” reaction.) But then I remembered that this is not news; I’ve known about this part all along, and this is just the next phase of treatment.

I had the consultation with my oncologist also, and he reported the news. The CT and PET scans show that the tumor is not growing. The PET scan (which uses “glow in the dark juice”), showed that the tumor glowed a bit less and in a smaller area. There is something around the tumor that is non-cancerous; it could be scar tissue, or it could be a bit of pneumonia. The scan also shows that the cancer has not spread. All good news, y’all!

And that brings me to the new schedule. (drum roll, please…) The new schedule will be 1 day of chemo + radiation, then 4 days of just radiation, for 6 weeks. So every weekday I’ll go get a treatment, for a total of 30 treatments. I’ll start in 2 weeks. Is anyone surprised that I don’t want to go? It’s something new and different, and I don’t know how my body will react to all that. Of course, the “solo” chemo treatments went fairly well; each one seemed to be a little less draining on me than the one before, so maybe this will work like that too. Hey, it could happen!

I know this is a long post, but I wanted to give a complete update. Thanks SO much for being here with me, and pulling me out of my scaredy-cat funk. I am very grateful for those who keep me strong, and if you’re here, you’re one of them. Thank you.

2006-10-27T18:45:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-10-26T16:19:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-10-24T14:53:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-10-20T15:01:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-10-16T10:21:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-10-13T15:17:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-10-10T18:17:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-10-05T14:36:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-10-02T15:09:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-09-28T16:52:00.000-07:00

It’s Thursday!

I’m feeling MUCH better today than I was earlier this week. I’ve been working ½ days, then coming home, getting a bite of lunch and resting on the couch for a while. “A while” is a relative term, in this case it means “the rest of the day.” The house, the laundry, and the cooking all get a vacation during “chemo week”. (I must say, the boys do help around the house when asked and they do laundry and cook on request.) On the 7th day after chemo, I feel much better, I have more energy, no more achy bones and no foggy head. And then it’s time to play catch-up with the house. And as soon as I feel better, those very same boys have no hesitation at all in handing it all back to me. None. It’s almost like they have lives that don’t include cooking & such.

Speaking of cooking, I’ve had no cravings this time. There are things I absolutely don’t want to eat, like fresh fruit and apple juice (not together). Mashed potatoes are very appealing (ha!), but I wouldn’t say they’re irresistible. I’m a little disappointed; cravings were the ONE fun thing I could look forward to in this whirlwind.

The one thing that never disappoints me is the support I have from all of you out there in cyberland. I can feel your presence, whether you comment on the blog or not, or whether I know you or not. (People who couldn’t pick me out of a crowd read my blog—how cool is that?!) Please know that I am grateful for your many, many kindnesses. In this season of change, it’s reassuring to know that you all are constant. Thank you.

2006-09-25T08:09:00.000-07:00

Monday morning

Well, the best thing I can say about today is that it’s no longer Sunday. Sunday was a rough day for me; the chemo and the shot kicked in with both feet, effectively rendering me worthless, just like Superman’s Kryptonite. Looks like today will be a repeat of yesterday. And then this round will be over, and life will get back to normal. Well, normal for me, anyway.

The good news is that this time, I didn’t gasp, wheeze, and cough up a lung the days after chemo, which had become the usual business. I think that means that the chemo is working. Also, my doctor told me that I could take LOTS more Motrin for the pain. So I did. Oh, I still hurt, but the pain is more tolerable. I’m eating, although not much. Yup, spending lots of time on the couch, watching daytime TV—someone please save me—and my music TV station, and napping throughout the day. Now if only I had someone around to fan me and bring me bon-bons…

Ok, now the couch beckons and I am unable to resist. Thanks for being here.

2006-09-22T14:48:00.000-07:00

Friday, after 5

Yeeha!! Treatment #3 is over! I was reluctant to go today; I knew what was coming and I didn't want to deal with it. Tough nuggets, gotta go anyway. And I'm glad I did, because today, I was the young, hot chick over in the corner. (With a scarf-ed head, which just added to the mystique. Yeah. Right.) When I arrived at the Chemo Lounge for my "happy juice", it was crowded! Lots of people getting juiced up for the weekend, it seemed, so I found a nice quiet spot on the other side. One by one, they all left, and at one point, I was the only one getting happy. Hmmm... I wonder if someone's snoring ran them off...? Oh, not mine, of course; I was certainly NOT snoring nor drooling on my pillow right there in front of the nurses' station in all my young, hot chick glory.

Many thanks to my cheering squad! I'm still getting meals on a regular basis, phone calls, emails, cards and well-wishes sent to me by caring and devoted people. I truly do have a soft place to land. Thank you. Yes, you in the corner, you too.

2006-09-20T18:57:00.000-07:00

Wednesday

Today is Wednesday and I’m noticing that I’m mentally gearing up for this next round of “happy juice”, which occurs on Friday. It takes no concentration on my part to administer the juice, but it does take some determination to go ahead and face what’s coming, knowing full well how I’m going to feel afterward. I’ve had no trouble at all with nausea (thank God for anti-nausea drugs!), but the fatigue and the achy bones really get me. It’s exactly like having the flu; just without the headache and fever. (Where is that stunt double that I was promised? Any volunteers?)

This week, I’m eating just like I did in the pre-cancer days, (like a locust—everything in sight!) so next week, when nothing is appealing, it’ll all balance out. Yes, it does, too. Oh, relax, I’ll eat next week; I tend to feel much better when I do. Even a little bit of food makes the difference between lying comatose on the couch, and sitting up, conversing with someone. It’s just hard to eat when there’s just no hunger or desire for food at all, which is a new experience for me. Those who know me know that I LOVE food—the colors, the smells, the textures, the taste, the way food looks on pretty plates—and to have all that just gone is depressing. Fortunately, it’s only temporary; eventually the taste buds wake up and it’s party time again.

Speaking of food, I’ve forgotten to tell y’all the latest! It seems that chemo gives me cravings, once I can eat again. The first time it was apple juice and fresh fruit (not together). The second time it was chocolate milk and baked potatoes (not together). I can’t wait to see what it’ll be next week! I hope it’s something fun, and not something like beets and liver (not together).

In other news, I had 2 wonderful surprises in the last week or so! In the mail, I received a rather large money order, with the return address of my workplace. I was astounded to receive it, and want those responsible to know how much I value their generosity. The second surprise came from other kind people contributing to help me with medical bills, which came at just the right time. Since I don’t know the names of those involved in either surprise, I’ll just say thank you all for your thoughtfulness and generosity. Please know that your gifts are very much appreciated, and they mean more than I can say.

2006-09-17T18:54:00.000-07:00

Sunday

There are lots of people who read this blog and get information. Others read and comment. And then there are others, who read and then want the "real" story. And this blog is for them.

Honestly, I'm OK. Yeah, there are days when I'm tired and cranky, my throat hurts, my chest hurts, my head hurts, and I can't take one breath without gasping and coughing. I get a little depressed sometimes. I get VERY frustrated at my inability to function like I used to, and I just hate, hate, HATE having no hair. I want to stomp my foot and throw dishes. (I don't, but I want to.)

But there are more days when that doesn't happen. Most days I don't hurt much, the coughing is minimal, and I am grateful that I'm no sicker than I am. I don't wonder "why me?"; there's no reason to, and no good answer anyway. I have a wonderful support system, with people ready and willing to jump in whenever for whatever. My kids are OK; they get the facts as I get them, and they are free to ask any questions that arise. They both seem very happy to do whatever I ask of them, and they don't complain if their plans have to change because I need them with me. My former spouse is very supportive as well; he often offers to help in any way he can. My workplace is also very supportive; co-workers offer encouragement, wonderful meals, and pats on the back. People in my building, whom I don't yet know, offer good wishes when they see me.

When people call me, they are generally surprised that I sound like myself. (I don't know who they expect!) Yes, I have cancer, but I still laugh and joke around like I always have. We talk about the things we've always talked about; sometimes we talk about cancer, sometimes we don't. I don't mind answering questions about this illness, but I don't want to bore people with it, either.

The blog is to inform people of my progress (or lack thereof), but it's also a record for me, so when this is all over, I will remember what it was like. I don't put in every detail, some things are just too personal or inappropriate for public view, but nearly all of it is right here, in black & white. And on those days when someone posts for me, I'm usually dictating from the couch, so all the information comes from me. And from what I've experienced so far, in the midst of this upheaval and uncertainty, there is much goodness and light.

So, yes, I'm OK. This, too, shall pass. And that's the real story.

2006-09-14T16:06:00.000-07:00

Thursday

Good news!! I went to see the oncologist, and we discussed the results of the latest CT scan. It appears that the tumor is shrinking just a little--YEEHA!! My bloodwork also looked good, so that means that this regimen is working and we'll stick with it.

It's a mixed blessing, sort of, because I know now that I have 2 more chemo treatments, then I get chemo along with radiation, then surgery, and then more chemo. Yup, it's gonna be a year before I have hair again. Sigh... (I was sort of hoping to hear the doctor say that I was all healed and it's been nice working together.) So much for that trip to Hawaii. Or even to the beach. On the other hand, this plan will probably make me well again, so I s'pose I can forego the sand and the waves for the time being. All in all, good news, which I could certainly use. It's been a tough day.

It's been brought to my attention that some people want to respond on the blog but don't know how. So here's how: At the end of each entry, there is a time, the word "comment" and an envelope. Just click on the word "comment", and a window will appear. Type in what you want (be aware that others will see what you post), click either the "blogger name" or "anonymous" button (some people click the anonymous button and then put their names or initials so I'll know who they are), and click "login and publish". That's it. I do like hearing from people, but I know that some people just like to lurk. It's OK; I'm a former lurker myself.

Thanks for letting me share my good news with you! I depend on y'all to hold me up during the rough days, so it's only fair that y'all get some good news once in a while, too. Y'all do good work. Thanks for being here.

2006-09-11T18:42:00.000-07:00

Another Monday

I know it's been days since I've posted anything; once again, no news is good news. I feel fine, I'm eating and sleeping well, I'm working, and trying to catch up on all those things at home that I've neglected during the past week or so. Yes, my exciting life includes the rush of cleaning the shower! The suspense of balancing the checkbook! The conquering of the mountain of dirty laundry! Yes, it's just one thrilling moment after another. Be still my heart.

I had a CT scan today; it's time to look at the tumor in my lung and see if the chemo is affecting it. I guess I'll get the results sometime soon. I'll keep y'all posted. My general feeling is that the tumor is not growing; my throat doesn't hurt much these days. Of course, it could be that I'm so tired from the chemo that I don't notice!

I had a wonderful compliment the other day. A woman who works in my building let me share her elevator ride. In the few seconds it took to get from floor to floor, we exchanged pleasantries, and then she said something like, "I know it's not, but you make it look easy,". Talk about an ego boost! There are days when I feel like %$#@, and look it, and getting through some days is a genuine struggle. It's good to know that no one sees that part. Thank you, C.! You made my day!

And C. is just one of many who make my day on a regular basis. I am so grateful to have all of you right here, holding my hand and smoothing over the rough places. Thank you. And especially you, over there.

2006-09-08T18:57:00.000-07:00

Friday Night

This is a short entry tonight, folks. I'm a bit tired, and honestly, there's no news. I worked 4 days this week (half days), and was just happy as a clam to snooze on the couch for an hour or so each afternoon. I've been eating a little, and resting a little, and trying to get back to whatever "normal" is. We'll see how that goes.

Thanks for being here for me. I have plenty to eat, LOTS of cards from people who are thinking of me, LOTS of emails, and LOTS of kind people who call me just to check in. I could not fight this dragon without you all here with me; your support is what keeps me strong and moving forward.