I consider myself a pretty observant person. I am always “casing” a place. I really love to look at décor and people watch. I have noticed that the oncology center’s exam and chemotherapy rooms are themed. They, of course, call them things like “Exam Room Two.” The first time I went to see the oncologist we were in what I refer to as the “Armstrong” Room. The room had two different large prints of Lance Armstrong, the poster child for Cancer Survivor. Wouldn’t it be just a tad more pleasant if they said “please proceed to the Armstrong Room”?
My second visit there I was placed in the whale room. I wasn’t sure to feel self-conscious about my weight, or feel that whales are peaceful determined creatures with a strong support system. Yeah, I think I’m going with that second concept.
We arrived this morning prior to 10 AM, but they were extremely busy because of the holiday. Chemo regimens have to be done in a certain timeframe, and if their office is closed on Friday, most of those folks get bumped to Thursday. I had three back-to-back appointments. The first appointment was for routine pre-chemo blood work. They always check your weight, white blood counts, temperature, and blood pressure before administering your drugs.
Afterwards I met with the oncologist. This meeting was in the farm room. The picture had a beautiful barn, with a mama sheep, baby sheep, and a horse. I felt sort of bad for the horse. He was there alone, surrounded by all the sheep! Maybe the cancer metaphor is that sometime cancer patients feel alone and that they don’t belong anywhere. Maybe this theory is the Ativan drip they gave me talking.
My regular oncologist is on vacation so I met with his partner and his physician assistant. They are feeling very positive that the treatments are working considering they can’t feel any evidence of the tumor. I asked how many courses – and they are predicting six chemotherapy sessions (meaning four left) with maybe some additional biotherapy only. I’m hopeful it’s only six! He said we’d probably re-do the PET scan after Chemo #3 or #4.
For the chemotherapy, I again got my own private space with a bed since my chemo takes so long. Today I was in the boat room. Two lovely prints of boats were displayed on the wall. Robbie noted that one of the boats in the harbor was called the Blue Devil. We chuckled, only because one of the drugs I receive is nicknamed the Red Devil and we wondered if there was another bad-ass drug called the Blue Devil.
Today it was really…routine. I knew what to expect this time and that definitely took a little of the edge off. The nurse assigned to me this time was the same as the first session. She is a GREAT STICKER because she always hits the vein the first time. I really like this about her. She was also able to speed up the drip a bit today so it took a little less time. I also received two less drips. They didn’t do the Benadryl which was given last time because my head became itchy. I experienced no itchiness this time. They also eliminated an IV steroid (I still have to take five days of prednisone). I’m theorizing that this was eliminated for three reasons: 1) It is for anti-nausea and it’s not a primary issue for me 2) I complained that insomnia was one of my key side effects, and 3) my pulse rate was high this morning from the prednisone and I think they didn’t want to make it any higher.
I did ask my usually plethora of bizarre questions. Can I eat blue cheese? Is soft serve ice cream off limits? (Mom, the nurse said it was fine). What was the deal with the margarita that caused nausea?
Robbie and I ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and played scrabble on the iPad for a good portion of the day. Now we’re home relaxing. Robbie is predicting I’ll be asleep by 8, but I have big plans to stay up until 9:30. I should try to rest though, because I really want to stay up for New Years Eve!
Hope you have a VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Riding the Wave
I unexpectedly had my first moment of nausea. Given that I was in my third week after chemotherapy, I figured that would be the least likely time for me to have a new side effect (other than hair loss).
I was out to dinner with my Mom and the hubbie on Monday night. As the waitress was reading off the specials she listed that they had $4 margaritas. I have been so very good, and have had very little to drink so I thought I would splurge and have a margarita. After all, chemo is just around the corner, and I know I will be drinking mainly water and juice for days.
The margarita arrives at the table and it’s huge. I know I won’t drink the whole thing, but I figured I would enjoy what I could of it. I take one drink, and it tastes wickedly sour. I know this is typical for a margarita, but the sour seemed REALLY sour. So I move the straw to the top of the drink, hoping that the ice cubes have maybe diluted the sour mix a bit and I take a big drink. The taste still isn’t agreeable. Within seconds a wave of nausea hits me like a brick wall.
We are sitting in a booth, and I ask Robbie to let me out. It wasn’t really a request, but more of a “LET ME OUT.” My Mom offers to go with me, but I tell her no, I’m fine, I just need to go to the bathroom.
The bathroom of course is in the back of the restaurant, and I am really feeling nauseous the entire walk. I am just hoping that I make it and don’t ruin everyone’s dinner. I finally make it there, and I go into a stall. I stand over the toilet and I’m certain that I’m going to throw-up. But after about a minute, it just passes. Completely. It’s as if I was never nauseous at all.
I washed my hands, regained composure, and returned to the table. Both Robbie and my Mom are completely freaked out. I told them I was fine, and started eating my salad. Robbie made me take one of my anti-nausea pills, even though at that point I felt perfectly fine. I hadn’t taken any of them up until that point because I just haven’t needed them.
I finished my meal, and have not felt nauseous since that moment. A margarita no longer sounds good to me at all though. I do worry that some other random food or drink will set me off. I just hope it’s not something I love – like chocolate or cheddar cheese!
Swift change of topic: Let’s talk about the hair. It’s hideous right now. It was falling out pretty heavily yesterday, so Robbie used the clippers and cut it down to an inch. I look like one of those birds that molts all of its feathers that just looks terribly pitiful. I was trying to be all “I am a badass cancer patient, and I don’t care if I look like a scary version of GI Jane, I’m going out in public!” But two minutes in the car and I stuck a hat on and haven’t taken it off. This adjustment might take a little more time than I anticipated.
I was out to dinner with my Mom and the hubbie on Monday night. As the waitress was reading off the specials she listed that they had $4 margaritas. I have been so very good, and have had very little to drink so I thought I would splurge and have a margarita. After all, chemo is just around the corner, and I know I will be drinking mainly water and juice for days.
The margarita arrives at the table and it’s huge. I know I won’t drink the whole thing, but I figured I would enjoy what I could of it. I take one drink, and it tastes wickedly sour. I know this is typical for a margarita, but the sour seemed REALLY sour. So I move the straw to the top of the drink, hoping that the ice cubes have maybe diluted the sour mix a bit and I take a big drink. The taste still isn’t agreeable. Within seconds a wave of nausea hits me like a brick wall.
We are sitting in a booth, and I ask Robbie to let me out. It wasn’t really a request, but more of a “LET ME OUT.” My Mom offers to go with me, but I tell her no, I’m fine, I just need to go to the bathroom.
The bathroom of course is in the back of the restaurant, and I am really feeling nauseous the entire walk. I am just hoping that I make it and don’t ruin everyone’s dinner. I finally make it there, and I go into a stall. I stand over the toilet and I’m certain that I’m going to throw-up. But after about a minute, it just passes. Completely. It’s as if I was never nauseous at all.
I washed my hands, regained composure, and returned to the table. Both Robbie and my Mom are completely freaked out. I told them I was fine, and started eating my salad. Robbie made me take one of my anti-nausea pills, even though at that point I felt perfectly fine. I hadn’t taken any of them up until that point because I just haven’t needed them.
I finished my meal, and have not felt nauseous since that moment. A margarita no longer sounds good to me at all though. I do worry that some other random food or drink will set me off. I just hope it’s not something I love – like chocolate or cheddar cheese!
Swift change of topic: Let’s talk about the hair. It’s hideous right now. It was falling out pretty heavily yesterday, so Robbie used the clippers and cut it down to an inch. I look like one of those birds that molts all of its feathers that just looks terribly pitiful. I was trying to be all “I am a badass cancer patient, and I don’t care if I look like a scary version of GI Jane, I’m going out in public!” But two minutes in the car and I stuck a hat on and haven’t taken it off. This adjustment might take a little more time than I anticipated.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Big Hairy Deal
It has begun.
Each day I give my hair a good tug. I don't want this hair-loss episode sneaking up on me. I want to know when it happens - makes me feel like I have a little control of the situation. I am starting to lightly shed. When I give a tug, I now get a few hairs. A shampoo yields even more.
Dramatized cancer always shows the hair coming out in big chunks. It never shows that for days prior to the chunks you just shed. Robbie and I both agree that when it gets to "chunk" time that we'll shave my head. I probably have a few days until that happens. So the jury is still out about whether I will start the year looking like Baby New Year!
I am bizarrely excited about this whole hair loss thing. To me, this says that the chemotherapy is doing all that it is supposed to be doing. If I didn't start to lose my hair I would worry that it wasn't killing the cancer cells either.
Thursday is my next round of chemotherapy. I am a little anxious. I have felt back to my normal self over the last few days. I will miss feeling normal. I am not looking forward to the steroids and the crash that follows. I also dread the loss of taste, though that may be a good thing after the holiday indulgences. I have also read that chemotherapy can be accumulative so some side effects may get worse. Or I may have additional side effects I didn't have the first time.
The discomfort is the price I have to pay to kick this. And the the price for long-term quality is often higher than you initially want to pay. But 20 years from now it will seem like a bargain.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Each day I give my hair a good tug. I don't want this hair-loss episode sneaking up on me. I want to know when it happens - makes me feel like I have a little control of the situation. I am starting to lightly shed. When I give a tug, I now get a few hairs. A shampoo yields even more.
Dramatized cancer always shows the hair coming out in big chunks. It never shows that for days prior to the chunks you just shed. Robbie and I both agree that when it gets to "chunk" time that we'll shave my head. I probably have a few days until that happens. So the jury is still out about whether I will start the year looking like Baby New Year!
I am bizarrely excited about this whole hair loss thing. To me, this says that the chemotherapy is doing all that it is supposed to be doing. If I didn't start to lose my hair I would worry that it wasn't killing the cancer cells either.
Thursday is my next round of chemotherapy. I am a little anxious. I have felt back to my normal self over the last few days. I will miss feeling normal. I am not looking forward to the steroids and the crash that follows. I also dread the loss of taste, though that may be a good thing after the holiday indulgences. I have also read that chemotherapy can be accumulative so some side effects may get worse. Or I may have additional side effects I didn't have the first time.
The discomfort is the price I have to pay to kick this. And the the price for long-term quality is often higher than you initially want to pay. But 20 years from now it will seem like a bargain.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Knowledge is Power
When diagnosed with an illness the obvious thing to do is to hit the information super-highway (internet) to gather as much information as possible. Everything I have read in cancer paraphernalia as well as on the Internet says that you need to become an "expert" on your disease. With the definition of expert being well-versed enough to understand the vocabulary including potential treatment regimens and related procedures.
And for the most part the Internet is a great resource. But here are just a couple of the negatives:
1. Information can be out-dated or irrelevant. For example, the Internet says I can't have cut flowers or a Christmas tree. My oncology nurse said that this is old information, and only relevant to certain types of cancers.
2. The Internet can scare you worse than creepy clowns. My whole bone marrow freak-out wouldn't have happened if the many horror stories I was able to find had not described every excruciating detail. Additionally, when doing research with limited information, you can very easily jump to wrong conclusions. For example, before I knew what type of lymphoma I had, I would look up the prognosis of the various forms and play the "how much anxiety CAN we create for no reason?" game.
3. One person's experience is not necessarily going to be the same for another person. There are ALOT of worse case scenarios online. Often the people having the routine/ideal experience aren't taking the time to write about it.
In recent days I am finding the online cancer community to be a great source of information and moral support. One particular site I frequent is http://www.blogforacure.com.
This site provides a blogging forum for cancer survivors. What is cool is that I can specifically go to posts written by people with the exact same form of cancer that are receiving the same type of chemotherapy.
Case-in-point: Lately, I have been having some minor insomnia issues. Through this forum, I was able to reach out to others on my same chemotherapy regimen. Many experience this, and for some of the people it is temporary. Also, many of them offered recommendations.
I was also able to read on various blogs that the two-week mark is the most likely time for me to start losing my hair. Though this varies from person-to-person. My two week mark is Christmas Eve. That should make things interesting!
A few people have chronicled each of their chemotherapy treatments, including what side effects increased as well as what ones diminished over the entire course of the treatment. This information is critical to someone like me who is only one treatment in with many to go.
On another note - tomorrow brings my weekly blood work. Hoping for normal. Off to try to sleep now...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
And for the most part the Internet is a great resource. But here are just a couple of the negatives:
1. Information can be out-dated or irrelevant. For example, the Internet says I can't have cut flowers or a Christmas tree. My oncology nurse said that this is old information, and only relevant to certain types of cancers.
2. The Internet can scare you worse than creepy clowns. My whole bone marrow freak-out wouldn't have happened if the many horror stories I was able to find had not described every excruciating detail. Additionally, when doing research with limited information, you can very easily jump to wrong conclusions. For example, before I knew what type of lymphoma I had, I would look up the prognosis of the various forms and play the "how much anxiety CAN we create for no reason?" game.
3. One person's experience is not necessarily going to be the same for another person. There are ALOT of worse case scenarios online. Often the people having the routine/ideal experience aren't taking the time to write about it.
In recent days I am finding the online cancer community to be a great source of information and moral support. One particular site I frequent is http://www.blogforacure.com.
This site provides a blogging forum for cancer survivors. What is cool is that I can specifically go to posts written by people with the exact same form of cancer that are receiving the same type of chemotherapy.
Case-in-point: Lately, I have been having some minor insomnia issues. Through this forum, I was able to reach out to others on my same chemotherapy regimen. Many experience this, and for some of the people it is temporary. Also, many of them offered recommendations.
I was also able to read on various blogs that the two-week mark is the most likely time for me to start losing my hair. Though this varies from person-to-person. My two week mark is Christmas Eve. That should make things interesting!
A few people have chronicled each of their chemotherapy treatments, including what side effects increased as well as what ones diminished over the entire course of the treatment. This information is critical to someone like me who is only one treatment in with many to go.
On another note - tomorrow brings my weekly blood work. Hoping for normal. Off to try to sleep now...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
These Boots are Made for Walking
Physically the symptoms are minimal right now, and so I’ve turned my attention to a little mental rest and relaxation. I’ve put the blackberry down. I’ve unplugged the work laptop. And for a few days, I’m just letting it go. I’m focused on enjoying the holidays with my family. Any cancer patient will tell you that the mental battle is equally important as the physical one.
I started yesterday with a little retail therapy. I’ve been looking off and on for a pair of boots since about November. Because I’ve been tired, it seemed to be the store I would never have time to fit into my day. Do I go to the drug store, or do I look for fabulous boots? Yesterday, I went to the shoe store first. I have big feet – Size 11. So it’s not always easy to find something I love in my size. And I was nearly done at Rack Room and was feeling the familiar pain of not finding a pair in my size. As I went down the last boot aisle, I moved a pair of display boots to see what size the box behind the display boots were. And sure enough, they were my size. I am so in love with these boots that I may never take them off of my feet.
My Mom also arrived yesterday. I am very glad to have her here. I know it was good for her to see me and to see that I look the same as I always did, and that I’m just as obnoxious as always. I think she expected to find me looking weak and frail, and that just isn’t the case right now. I even still have my hair for now! She will also get to see my treatment center later this week when I go in for blood work. It really is a lovely place, and I think she’ll feel a little comforted to put a positive image to the place in which I receive care.
Today we are going house hunting. This should be a really fun day. I am hopeful that we’ll find a house that will be perfect for her. We are meeting a realtor shortly, and we are going to look until the sun goes down and we can’t see anymore! And if we don’t find one today, we’ll keep on looking.
My apologies that my “Cancer Blog” is a little mundane right now. Makes for a happy cancer patient, but does not make for exciting reading!
I started yesterday with a little retail therapy. I’ve been looking off and on for a pair of boots since about November. Because I’ve been tired, it seemed to be the store I would never have time to fit into my day. Do I go to the drug store, or do I look for fabulous boots? Yesterday, I went to the shoe store first. I have big feet – Size 11. So it’s not always easy to find something I love in my size. And I was nearly done at Rack Room and was feeling the familiar pain of not finding a pair in my size. As I went down the last boot aisle, I moved a pair of display boots to see what size the box behind the display boots were. And sure enough, they were my size. I am so in love with these boots that I may never take them off of my feet.
My Mom also arrived yesterday. I am very glad to have her here. I know it was good for her to see me and to see that I look the same as I always did, and that I’m just as obnoxious as always. I think she expected to find me looking weak and frail, and that just isn’t the case right now. I even still have my hair for now! She will also get to see my treatment center later this week when I go in for blood work. It really is a lovely place, and I think she’ll feel a little comforted to put a positive image to the place in which I receive care.
Today we are going house hunting. This should be a really fun day. I am hopeful that we’ll find a house that will be perfect for her. We are meeting a realtor shortly, and we are going to look until the sun goes down and we can’t see anymore! And if we don’t find one today, we’ll keep on looking.
My apologies that my “Cancer Blog” is a little mundane right now. Makes for a happy cancer patient, but does not make for exciting reading!
Saturday, December 18, 2010
All I Want for Christmas
I am happy to report that cancer is pretty low-key right now. Besides a little fatigue and waiting for my hair to fall out, there isn’t much going on. And I am very grateful of this. I am hoping that things stay this way through the Christmas holiday so I’ll go into the new year and Round 2 of chemotherapy strong and ready to battle.
In the spirit of the holiday, I’m going to focus this narrative on what I want for Christmas this year.
1. My Mom’s cooking. She is headed this way in a day or two as long as the weather holds out. My taste buds are a bit better now, and I can’t wait to have turkey and all the fixings. My mouth waters just thinking about it. It is the little things like having someone cook for you that make the difference when you aren’t your best.
2. I have already received this gift, but it’s one of those gifts that keep on giving. Every day I put my hands on the front of my neck and I feel the place where the tumor was. It was large – about 6 cm by 7 cm. My neck feels nearly normal, and it’s miraculous. When you are going through something like this, you just hope that everything is working. But it’s nice to have a physical sign that good things are happening and that progress is being made.
3. I have never much been into massages. I am high-strung and have a hard time thinking that I might enjoy it. But the back of my neck is about as tense as a stretched rubber band. I think I’m going to have to find a place to get a really good neck massage.
4. I want Robbie to have some rest and relaxation over the holidays. He has been amazing. He takes such good care of me. But no one is taking care of him. He runs the errands, pays the bills, and cleans the house. And when I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself, he finds a way to make me laugh and get me back into the right state-of-mind. The miracle of modern medicine may be half of what cures me, but his love and support will be the other half. So finding ways for him to rejuvenate will be my priority.
5. A house. Before all this cancer talk started we had decided that my Mom was going to move here to be closer to us. While she is here over the holidays, we will be house hunting for the perfect little house for her to live in. It’s a buyer’s market right now, so I am hopeful that we will be able to find her not just a house, but someplace that feels like home.
So, to recap, I want my cancer cured, a house, good food, and happiness for those I love. I suppose it comes from being an only child that I feel audacious enough to ask for so much this year. I don’t care. I’m going to ask for it all anyways. I believe that a big part of being a cancer survivor is believing that you can be cured, feeling that your worth it, and not being afraid to make plans for the future.
I hope that you and yours have a wonderful weekend filled with merriment, love, and laughter.
In the spirit of the holiday, I’m going to focus this narrative on what I want for Christmas this year.
1. My Mom’s cooking. She is headed this way in a day or two as long as the weather holds out. My taste buds are a bit better now, and I can’t wait to have turkey and all the fixings. My mouth waters just thinking about it. It is the little things like having someone cook for you that make the difference when you aren’t your best.
2. I have already received this gift, but it’s one of those gifts that keep on giving. Every day I put my hands on the front of my neck and I feel the place where the tumor was. It was large – about 6 cm by 7 cm. My neck feels nearly normal, and it’s miraculous. When you are going through something like this, you just hope that everything is working. But it’s nice to have a physical sign that good things are happening and that progress is being made.
3. I have never much been into massages. I am high-strung and have a hard time thinking that I might enjoy it. But the back of my neck is about as tense as a stretched rubber band. I think I’m going to have to find a place to get a really good neck massage.
4. I want Robbie to have some rest and relaxation over the holidays. He has been amazing. He takes such good care of me. But no one is taking care of him. He runs the errands, pays the bills, and cleans the house. And when I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself, he finds a way to make me laugh and get me back into the right state-of-mind. The miracle of modern medicine may be half of what cures me, but his love and support will be the other half. So finding ways for him to rejuvenate will be my priority.
5. A house. Before all this cancer talk started we had decided that my Mom was going to move here to be closer to us. While she is here over the holidays, we will be house hunting for the perfect little house for her to live in. It’s a buyer’s market right now, so I am hopeful that we will be able to find her not just a house, but someplace that feels like home.
So, to recap, I want my cancer cured, a house, good food, and happiness for those I love. I suppose it comes from being an only child that I feel audacious enough to ask for so much this year. I don’t care. I’m going to ask for it all anyways. I believe that a big part of being a cancer survivor is believing that you can be cured, feeling that your worth it, and not being afraid to make plans for the future.
I hope that you and yours have a wonderful weekend filled with merriment, love, and laughter.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Sparkly!
Last weekend was my office holiday party. In normal years, Robbie and I usually get a hotel room in Charlotte and make a weekend getaway out of it. We spend the day shopping, drinking wine, and enjoying the “big city” festivities of the holiday season. This year, for obvious reasons, we skipped the party. Last weekend was also Robbie’s holiday party. Considering that was the evening of my first chemotherapy session we skipped it as well.
Additionally, we cancelled our wine club party that we were going to hold this weekend. Though I probably feel well enough to do it, it’s not the greatest idea to have a house full of people during the cold and flu season when my immune system is compromised.
So, I think it goes without saying that this girl deserved a night out. Tonight was the Hickory Wine Shoppe Annual Champagne Tasting. I was determined to attend. It’s not really a dress-up event, but it may be the only holiday event I attend this year so I pulled out the sparkly! I even took a nap this afternoon to prepare for the big event. I am allowed to drink alcohol during chemotherapy (I specifically asked), but I really didn’t drink much. I took a sip of each glass of champagne and then handed my glass to Robbie to finish it up. It was more about being out of the house and feeling a part of the holiday season. It was fun to laugh and enjoy the evening.
I’m doing a little better today after yesterday’s energy crash. I am still experiencing some aches and pains, primarily pain in my sternum associated with the white blood cell booster. I also occasionally have a headache and some muscle pain – similar to the achiness you experience with the flu. It’s not constant, and seems to be less when I’m well rested. Hey, maybe I should stay well-rested!
I also went to have my blood count checked today. This will happen weekly throughout my treatment. I was within the right level, though I did have a slight fever (99.7). I always have to watch for fever – if at any point it goes higher than 100.5 I have to call the Doctor’s office right away.
I’m off to shop now. I have about a week until I lose my hair, and baby, its cold outside! I need to get some headgear stat!
Additionally, we cancelled our wine club party that we were going to hold this weekend. Though I probably feel well enough to do it, it’s not the greatest idea to have a house full of people during the cold and flu season when my immune system is compromised.
So, I think it goes without saying that this girl deserved a night out. Tonight was the Hickory Wine Shoppe Annual Champagne Tasting. I was determined to attend. It’s not really a dress-up event, but it may be the only holiday event I attend this year so I pulled out the sparkly! I even took a nap this afternoon to prepare for the big event. I am allowed to drink alcohol during chemotherapy (I specifically asked), but I really didn’t drink much. I took a sip of each glass of champagne and then handed my glass to Robbie to finish it up. It was more about being out of the house and feeling a part of the holiday season. It was fun to laugh and enjoy the evening.
I’m doing a little better today after yesterday’s energy crash. I am still experiencing some aches and pains, primarily pain in my sternum associated with the white blood cell booster. I also occasionally have a headache and some muscle pain – similar to the achiness you experience with the flu. It’s not constant, and seems to be less when I’m well rested. Hey, maybe I should stay well-rested!
I also went to have my blood count checked today. This will happen weekly throughout my treatment. I was within the right level, though I did have a slight fever (99.7). I always have to watch for fever – if at any point it goes higher than 100.5 I have to call the Doctor’s office right away.
I’m off to shop now. I have about a week until I lose my hair, and baby, its cold outside! I need to get some headgear stat!
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