Round Two

Last Thursday, as the Ratt song goes; I was "Back for More"...

This time I landed at the General and hope to stay there for the duration of my treatments. 

During my stay at the hospital the week prior, I didn't want the nurses to use my port for administering fluids, or blood work.  I still had not grown used to the idea, thought it would hurt, am a baby and expected I would be sent home after a few hours, anyways.  WRONG!!  Now, I still don't have veins left in my arms for my blood work which is required before chemo and being new to this, didn't realize I need to schedule an appointment to use the port to gather blood.  You know there are going to be problems when the lab tech asks if your blood is as stubborn as you are...She had some issues but she finally got what she needed.  When I returned for treatment a few hours later, she shouted across the hall to me "There's the baby!" 

Yes.  Next time use the damn port.

Round 2 was equally uneventful as the first.  Kim and Carolyn joined me for the afternoon festivities and this time I brought the game "Operation" to pass the time  I did have to come to terms with using the port which in the end wasn't so bad.  After applying ice, it was merely a prick...so all that whining for nothing.  My favorite part of being in the hospital is the blanket warmer.  I will be investing in one of those for home soon.

Kim had explained to her kids in the morning that she was being "Aunt Millie's" buddy at the hospital.  Her 2 year old nodded her head with an all knowing look and said "Boobie" - She understands.

Because my white blood cell count (neutrophils) dropped; I needed to start Neulasta injections early to keep it up and not land back in the hospital with a fever or infection.  I spent a good part of my week, trying to ensure this injection was covered by my health insurance.  It's pretty pricey but consists of only one injection after each treatment.  The alternative is 6-10 injections per treatment.  My aversion to needles, made me scramble to get everything organized in time.

The home care nurse came in on Friday to show me how to inject Neulasta.  After explaining it's a slow release and the needle needs to be on a certain angle; I just decided it is for everyone's best interest that I call in a home nurse each time.  I cannot do this to myself and I want a trained professional who has experience with hundreds of patients, jabbing me with a needle.  Carolyn offered to try to help but my guess is I would be picking her off the floor if she made an attempt.

My nurse also explained that often people will come into my life who are sad, negative or try to tell me what they think is best for my well being.   Some of these people you can convert and others, you may have to leave at the side of the road.  He explained that I am the Poster Child for Modern Day Cancer.  Treatments have progressed so much in the last 15-20 years that my rate of survival is super high.  Mix that with the fact I have no nausea, have an appetite like a horse, still pretty active, no fatigue and a really positive attitude; I already have this licked!!  He recommended to keep doing what I am doing and also offered to have a chat with those who try to tell me differently.

One of the side effects associated with Neulasta injections is sore joints because it stimulates bone marrow to produce neutrophils. It wasn't horrible and nothing a little heating pad couldn't fix.

The biggest side effect after this treatment was fatigue.  I have never been knocked down so hard in my life ...Towards the end of receiving chemo last week, I suddenly felt tired.  Kim said it appeared instantly on my face.  I crawled into bed when I got home and spent a good chunk of the weekend sleeping at the farm.  I didn't even care if a cat was walking across my head at night (which is a strange sensation if you have no hair.) 

But I do love Christmas and managed to decorate the tree, wrap some gifts and do a little baking.  Although I am embracing the fatigue since I had not been able to sleep for weeks; I do feel a little guilty not being my usual power house. 

I still feel like I am in La La land today but have been told it should pass in another day or two.  My appetite hasn't subsided and Carolyn took me to a buffet at lunch to satisfy my cravings.  I pushed my way to the roast beef counter like a zombie in search of brains.  I am worried that I will be the size of a house by the time I finish treatments.

One last cute story - I snuck into church yesterday to watch the children rehearse for their Christmas program.  I likely will not attend the actual program since it will be when I am at my lowest point, have a lot of other things happening between Christmas eve and Boxing day, plus it will likely be a cesspool of germs.  Anyways, my cousin's little guy walked out on the stage, saw me in the back and shouted "Hey Auntie Jen!  My daddy took all his hair off for you!  Its true!  I helped him shaved it!"  He then came to my seat, I let him pull off my hat so he could see my head.  He said it looked a little creepy.  I reminded him that he hasn't had front teeth since August.

"That's right!  You have no hair and I have no teeth"

Perfect red neck family

Later that day I received a text from his father - A picture of him with a shaved head and a note that read "Just my way of saying you are not in this alone.  Anything. Anytime.  You call and we will be there."

Sportin' Jen's gift from L.A. and my new Rammstein toque - I felt super rock 'n roll

Bald as an Eagle

On Wednesday, December 4th around 4:15 PM, I ran my fingers through my hair while on a call.  I looked at my hand and it was full of little blonde hairs.

It was happening.

I texted Laura to let her know that I was ready to shave my head and she promptly called Genevieve at Lucas Nault salon.  We made an appointment for Sunday.

By 10 PM Wednesday evening, I arrived to emergency with a fever and was told the next day I should expect to be in the hospital until Sunday or Monday.  The pillows in my hospital bed were covered in my hair.  When I took a shower, I had little hairs stuck to my body.  Although I still had a lot of hair and it wasn't coming out in patches, this was not working out well.

I knew I would be cranky if I was shedding in my home.  I already hate it when my cats shed and I was worse than them.

Laura and Genevieve were gracious enough to accommodate me at the hospital last night.  The nurses gave us a utility room so that we could have a little privacy.

We used a wheelchair that fits over a toilet as my chair and a hospital gown as my cape.

I thought I was prepared but as Gen picked up her clippers, I cried.  But only for a second...
I guess no matter how much you think you are prepared, when it comes to the final hour, you have a fleeting moment of sadness. This is it. It is not going to grow back tomorrow.  It's going to take a long time... and it will only start after treatments finish in March.

I had two incredible people at my side to share this moment with. Well, actually Laura was in front of me with a camera and Gen was a bit more to the side/rear with her clippers.

Let the games begin!

I am likely never going to have (at least I hope so) another moment like this again; so take advantage.

We fulfilled the desire I had when I was a teenager to do a full punk Mohawk.  Then, we did that 80s look where it was cool to have a shaved head and a little tuft of hair in the front.  Within minutes, it was all off, lying at my feet and I was a bald eagle.

As I walked out of the room to look for a broom, I ran face to face into a friend of mine.  I figured that either through Facebook or mutual friends, she was aware I had been diagnosed with cancer.  Nope and the look of shock and confusion as to why I was standing in the middle of the oncology floor with a bald head was priceless.

Suzy is a very striking woman with gorgeous hair and for a split second, I wanted to grab her by her long luscious black locks and drag her into the room and have Gen shave her down so I could use her hair as a wig.  She has hair that I want!

It is a very weird feeling not to have hair.  It will take a few days to be totally comfortable but so far I am ok with the look.  However, it feels weird to the touch and I feel temperature changes.

I was born a blonde and for a number a years I was a wide variety of colours in the red family but I have never been a brunette, chestnut, chocolate, brown black or other.  I wash my hair every day and there was a point when I would wash it twice day to have a colour within the brown/black family because it will fade to an ugly murky brown.  Now is my chance to have fun and be whatever colour I want.

The Mighty Have Fallen

I jinxed myself....

I knew I was too lucky and being overly cocky because I had not experienced any side effects.

And then on Day 12 it hit me...

I popped into the office super early to grab a few things, grabbed a few groceries on the way home, worked from home until lunch, worked out during lunch at the Maplesoft Centre and by the time I left, felt like a truck ran over me.  I crawled into bed when I got home and took a nap.

Wednesday was even worse.  I woke up and had to message my bosses to let them know I wasn't able to log in and would come online after I sleep a little longer.  I felt a better when I woke and assumed perhaps it was exhaustion from lack of sleep.  My throat was sore, I could feel my temperature rising but I had not reached a fever point.  By evening my temperature had reached the fever mark, waited a little longer, no changes and by 9, I turned to my friend and asked "Can you take me to the hospital please?"

Now since I felt fine and was merely following protocol, I took my time to pack a little package including magazines, water and my travel makeup bag.  I also figured I would be in for a long haul and made a Tim Horton's pit stop. En route, I could feel my body temperature rising and wondered if anyone would notice if I rolled down the window and hung my head out of the vehicle like a dog.

At the hospital, I pulled the cancer card.  No seriously, you are given a card to keep in your wallet that is presented should you wind up in emergency.  You pass the line, don't wait in the waiting room and are taken into care as quickly as possible.  My VIP lounge did not include bottle service but surgical masks.  Meta kept yelling at me to keep my mask on but it is very hard to drink coffee through a mask and by now, my lip gloss had smeared all over the inside of the mask and across my face, making me look like the Joker.

The purpose of having a port is to receive anything via IV and to extract blood without wrecking your veins.   Since I am relatively new to this concept, a bit fearful of the first time I will be "clipped in" and assumed, I was going to be sent home by morning; I told them not to bother and use my veins for blood tests.

When I was in the first grade,  during a routine blood test, I watched the nurse extract vials of blood from me.  Five minutes later, I passed out cold on the steps of the Shawville Hospital.  Ever since I've had an aversion to needles.  I can't watch.

Needless to say I didn't have a warm and fuzzy feeling when I felt the nurse pushing and rubbing against my veins...Oh come on!  There is no way you can't draw blood from that big honking blue vein in my arm.  Then I caught a glimpse of what she was taking out of me.  Aside from maybe 4-6 of the usual vials, another 4 the size of Heinz Ketchup bottles were sitting on the tray!!

I called her a dirty vampire

Xray department didn't play fair either.  They asked if I could stand up - Of course I could.  That was great news for her because she didn't have to take a chest Xray with my lying down.  You mean there is an option?  I was toasty and cozy' snuggled up, under the blankets in my gurney and now she wanted me to get out and stand in the cold?

I was then asked to provide a urine sample.  After drinking a large Timmies (decaf) I was ready to report for duty.  She asked to collect my sample mid stream. Not a problem - Most women may be embarrassed to admit this but lining everything up at the start can be a little difficult, you usually miss and pee on your hand...always happens and always mid stream

My Oncology specialist was a Resident who looked like he was 12 years old and on a class field trip.  He had spoke to his Fellow...which is? He explained the difference between residency and fellowship.

"And after Fellow, you become a Dude?"  I asked

"No, "Staff" but I like your title better"

With whatever leftover blood they had from feeding the vampires in the basement, it indicated my white blood cell was very low and I was being admitted.  There were no rooms available and I was in line for a room.  When the morning nurse started his shift he said typically there are approximately 10 people waiting to be admitted to a room.  On Thursday morning, there were 31 people waiting.  There were beds in their board room, beds lined up in the hallway and at one point, I heard they had no beds.  I was thankful for my little broom closet as I had some privacy.

One thing I was confused about; I why would the nurse do a swab of my ass when I came in complaining of a sore throat?  No one looked at my throat until I brought the issue up again by lunchtime.  They assume it is the start of mouth sores and it will come and go in cycles during treatments. It is annoying as hell.

Spending a night,  listening to everyone in the emergency, is an experience.  To my left was a little old man who had fallen and fractured something.  He was disoriented and would not stay in his bed. Finally by morning, one of the nurses had enough of his antics and told him to settle down; to which he shouted "Shut your f*cking mouth b*tch" and then afterwards asked for assistance get to the washroom to "take a crap"

Across the room was a women vomiting and retching...I closed my curtain

To my right, at one point, was a little old lady who had taken a tumble and was very upset that her assigned nurse was not at her beckon call.  In fact she complained about everything.

Two doors down was another little old lady who sadly tried to commit suicide by taking 4 anti depressants (it was one of those "and you think you have it rough" moments for me) and in the morning she was bragging about how well she slept...Uhm lady, I don't think so because I heard you  talking all night.

Down the hall was another old lady, screaming "Get me out of here!"

I don't think anyone would be surprised if I told them, I didn't sleep that night.  I feel part of the reason I landed in the hospital in the first place is that I have been sleeping poorly for over a week and was run down.  This was not helping the situation and a breath mint would have worked better than the sleeping pill they finally gave me at 4:30 AM.

There is little to no cell phone reception in the emergency ward.  It was late when I decided to go in and I thought I would be released the next morning at some point and therefore, didn't feel the need to tell my folks.  I was admitted by 2:30 AM and certainly was not going to call them and figured I would be put into a room my mid morning at the latest.  But as the day grew on, I heard stories of people spending a few days in emergency due to lack of beds.  I wasn't allowed to leave the area because at this point, was still unsure what caused my fever and could not compromise myself any further.

Carolyn had dropped by early in the morning with some breakfast and thank God because the hospital had nothing to give me to eat until noon.  When she asked what I wanted, I texted "Cheeseburger!  No wait, its too early.  How about a croissant and some fruit?"

I know I am trying to eat healthy but something about hospitals must bring out my bad side.

Anyways she offered to call my folks.  I figured she was the best person because A- my parents know her and B- she has physically seen me in person so she can reiterate I am fine.

Now every one's parents have little quirks.  Amongst mine, my dad believes he is the only person who has a long distance savings plan that allows him to call anyone in Canada for free.  And he wants to make sure he gets his money's worth out of it.   I gave up arguing about 5 years ago that I also had a similar plan and for years, I have called their home, let it ring a few times and then he calls me back.

When Carolyn ran to my place to pick up a few items, she thought maybe it was a good idea to use my land line to call my folks, since they would see the number and answer right away assuming it was me.  Of course they didn't answer and they called back after she walked out the door.  Then they tried my cell which went straight to voicemail.

Shortly after my aunt called to let them know I was in the hospital...didn't tell them which one or why.  The poor man starts calling every hospital in the city.

I was about to go to the bathroom when I heard

"Are you Jennifer?  Your father is on the phone."

Uh oh...

I reassured my parents that I feel fine and the reason for the low cell count and fever is a result of my body reacting to the Chemo.  No big deal - I will start the bone marrow producing injections a little earlier than planned.

After relief sets in, he wants to have a chat.  I am standing at the nurses' station in leggings, an open back, hooked to an IV pole that was last inspected in 2007 (you have a little time on your hands when you are in a hospital,) desperately wanting to pee due to all the hydration.  Not the best time to talk.

Meta and Carolyn were fantastic, taking turns visiting during the day.  Meta snuck in McNuggets.  You know the hospital food is bad when the porter collecting the trays had an envious look when he spied the Golden Arches.  Ang stopped around dinner time and great timing because I promptly turned her around in search of the Tim Horton's for some chili when dinner was served.

By 6:30 PM, I was switched to a bed in the oncology unit.  Finally a real bed, with a shower in the washroom.  Because if I had to stay in emergency, I had made arrangements to take a "shower" where they hose the homeless people off.

Now part of my problem was that I had not been sleeping and the night before was horrendous so I asked the nurse for a sleeping pill stronger than the one the night before.  Or Valium was acceptable.

Whatever she gave me was a miracle.  I was knocked out within half an hour.  The nurse did tell me to signal for her if I wake up in the middle of the night and she would check my vitals at the time.  I pressed the little button when I stirred at 4 AM. 

"Are you ok?" she asked?

"Oh yeah" I replied "I just woke up and thought maybe you would want to check my temperature"

"I did two hours ago but you were out cold and didn't feel a thing.  I took your temperature in your armpit.  All is good."

Now those are some mighty fine drugs!

Week One

I have surpassed my first week after treatments and very happy to report that I have not experienced any side effects yet.  No nausea, vomiting, loss of taste/ appetite, metallic taste in mouth or fatigue. 

7-10 days after chemo is when my immune system is at its lowest and I was trudging through snow to cut spruce boughs to make swags outside the house.  I know this round was my easiest because my body was a "chemo virgin."  It will get worse with each round but I am hoping and praying that because I haven't experienced anything yet, the next time will go smoothly and I can have a decent Christmas and New Years.  After that, January and February are crappy months and hibernation isn't necessarily a bad thing.  My last chemo treatment will be March and I expect to be so bloody happy to have that part of the tour behind me.

By the way - Please do not refer to this as "my journey."  The term is too hokey and too "pink ribbon" for me.  I prefer "Tour" and I'm performing a show at different hospitals in the city.  But my home stage is the General. 

The home nurse came over on Tuesday to remove my tubes.  He was easily 250 lbs and 6'4.  Boy, did they ever stick him in the wrong place.  I have low ceilings.  And he is assigned to me throughout my treatments.  I think when he said "Hopefully I won't have to see you again until the end to gather your file" had a double meaning.   He told me one of the drugs I took the day of my treatment was a steroid.   That explains the chicken wing cravings and sky rocketed appetite.  After he left, I removed the hand held shower, replaced it with my old shower head and took the world's longest shower.  I was in my happy place again.  I now have a large lump under the skin and can feel the tube that goes into my neck.  It's not that bad.  At least, I can work out again; just with some limitations for the next 8 weeks.

I thought I was well prepared to start treatments.  I purchased new humidifiers, gentle skin care, special toothpaste, made arrangements for work, etc.  The one thing I overlooked was snow removal.  I was lying in bed on Tuesday, during the first snow storm of the season when I had an "oh shit" moment around 9:30 PM.  Living in the Market, I have street parking but digging is required when the plow passes.  Now I have a few more weeks of healing around the port area and shoveling is one of the activities that shouldn't be on the list.  Being creative and resourceful, I asked a homeless crack head (he has no fixed address and pretty confident on the latter statement) to shovel and brush off my car for 20$.  Sadly, he got a job and was too tired... 2 nights in a row. 

The hardest part is laying low.  This would have been so much easier if I started treatments in June when people are not sick.  I read Facebook for updates on the cold/flu season like some people check the Weather Network.  Tonight, two new people updated their Facebook statuses to include the flu and its been that way over the past week.  Spies at work inform me as to who is sick.  Needless to say I have stayed at home, with a quick outing for groceries and a walk in the morning for a coffee because I make crappy coffee.  I did sneak out to see my Godson on Friday evening and I was assured the kids were healthy.  We sat in an empty hotel restaurant but I didn't care.  I was so happy to get out of the house and wear makeup.  I alao have been eating very healthy lately and decided to treat myself to a cone of fries and onion rings.  The problem when you cut grease out of your diet for a few weeks, you don't feel so hot when you introduce it back into your diet.  I returned to fruit and salads the next day.  I never thought I would live to see the day where I prefer a salad over fries.

Vonda told me a cute story - Her mother in law asked how I was doing and if I had lost my hair yet.  Vonda told her that I haven't yet but the minute the first clump falls out, I am planning on shaving my head (and in some twisted way, I am curious to see what I look like with no hair.)  Anyways, my God son overheard their conversation and said "Auntie Jennifer is really tough, isn't she?"

That's the best compliment I have received in a long time



 

Chicken Wings and Pizza Pops

Since the first round of chemo last week I have led a very uneventful life.  I now work from home, have two furballs who think they are my Administrative Assistants, wear no make up and today my "office attire" consisted of sweat pants and my "Downtown Ladysmith" Tshirt 

It is quite boring to work from home and by 9 AM on Friday, was ready to go back to the office.

I was tired for the first couple of days but did not sleep a lot leading up to chemotherapy.  I wouldn't say I had nausea but I mentioned to the clinical trial nurse that I felt a little bit off for maybe an hour the first day (didn't need any Gravol or other medication) and they will be changing my drugs for the trial because I shouldn't feel anything at all.  That's one relief.

My appetite has not changed.  I have always been a big eater.  Maybe not the healthiest eater but I'm definitely a big eater.  I plowed through 4 pizza pops for lunch on Saturday and then made grilled bison with mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables and sauerkraut.

I notice smells but they do not seem to affect me.  I drove past a dead skunk and although I certainly could smell it, didn't upset me.  I keep a Tupperware container with a lid in the car because God forbid, I do get sick...

And I have a cravings for chicken wings?? Not one medical professional can explain that one to me at all.  Even driving to the farm at 10 AM on Saturday, I started to think about fried chicken.

I have been warned that my immune system will kick out 7-10 days after treatments and that is when I will be my most tired.  With each treatment, it will get worse and I will have days that I will not want to get out of bed.  Its like a wave, you just have to ride.  It isn't so bad now because my body is still a chemo "virgin" but give it one or two more treatments.

Today wasn't a "good day"  I received a call from my surgeon and after reviewing my file with the rest of the team, they now feel I should have more lymph nodes removed.  Yes, earlier they told me studies show there isn't a benefit to having lymph nodes removed but now given I am HER2+ and the tumour was aggressive..yada yada yada; she feels it would be a safe option for me to have 5-10 more removed after I finish chemo therapy. 

I feel like I get one step ahead and then fall back two. 
When I told my family doctor about the lump; she didn't think it would turn out to be anything. 
Then it was "indicative of cancer" and the surgeon thought the lymph nodes likely weren't affected and Radiation would fix it. 
That changed to chemo as a preventative measure.
After surgery 2 lymph nodes tested positive
And then I was HER2+ and needed over a year of additional treatments
Finally this....

And there is no guarantee at the end of it.

Could I just have one good day??

This afternoon I received a message from woman I was put in contact with.  She was diagnosed with breast cancer 13 years ago and then a few years ago, it came back and tested HER2+.  She opted for a full mastectomy the second time.

And then I felt bad for my whining.  There are plenty of people who have been in far worse situations than I and have come out on top.

Tomorrow I get all the tubes from my port removed.  Thank God!  Taking a shower has been a little bit like Cirque du Soliel, trying not to get that area wet. 

One Down, Five More to Go

My theory is if you are going to spend an afternoon in a hospital, you might as well make the best of it.  Today went OK and I'm still feeling fine.

For the inaugural visit, Jen and Carolyn came sportin' their finest rock shirts.  We were the loudest group.  I snuck in some vino for the girls, had snacks and a great afternoon of chatting and catching up.  In retrospect maybe bringing Indian Pakoras, sour cream and onion hemp kale chips, cheese curds, etc; may not have been the best idea and any nausea may have been caused by my poor food choices.  At least I didn't bring wings which I am craving right now...

Actually, why did I bring Indian food to chemo??

The first order of business was reviewing the clinical trial I signed up for anti nausea. The whole goal is to not get sick...So far so good, although its only been 9-10 hours.  I meet my home care nurse tomorrow to check in on me.

I have a whole whack of drugs to take.  It's really confusing but its all clearly labeled

The first was a bag of red stuff (can't remember the name of which ones) and this is the one that can make you sick, lose your hair and pee red.  Almost instantly, I felt nauseous and they stopped the ride, gave me some meds via IV, hooked me back up and off to the races.

The second medication was the nurse using a syringe.  This one causes mouth sores so I sucked on Mr Freezies and the third was back on a drip.

All the nurses were wonderful.  They kept checking my name.  I know its to make sure they don't accidentally give me someone else's meds.  But I kept telling them "Yup its me!  don't think anyone else will steal my identity for this one!"

I met another young woman who is now receiving Herceptin through her Port.  She allowed me to watch how the skin is punctured to receive treatments.  I saw everything but the actual puncture.  Some things I prefer to remain oblivious to.  However, she had all the same type of Chemo and was on the clinical study.  She had a little nausea but no vomiting, gained some weight and lost some hair.  She has 3 tumours in her breast and due to whatever reason, is having surgery after treatments.  After one round of Herceptin, her tumours have shrunk considerably.  Wow - makes mine seem insignificant.

Within a couple of hours we were on our way with no issues until Jen cut someone off in the parking lot  Then horns started honking, I flipped the bird and almost got out of the car. Great...Right after my first treatment, and I start a fight in the parking lot of the cancer treatment centre.

And you know I wanted to.

I stayed pretty calm the day before until 5 Pm and as I was leaving broke down to my colleague and told him I was scared.  I have every right to be - I have no clue how my body will react and at the end of it all, if it even worked.  The past week has been a whirlwind of appointments, in addition to my own "prep work" and trying desperately to hold on to a normal routine at work.  I thought the day before, not having any scheduled Dr. appointments, would be easy.  My phone did not stop ringing: My Oncologist, nurses concerning a clinical trial I am part of for anti nausea meds, pharmacy prepping prescriptions and setting up home care, delivering supplies, etc.  I didn't realize any of this would be happening and again felt totally overwhelmed.  Of course having a constant nagging pain from the port and running on virtually no sleep, doesn't help.   Chemo brain has started before chemo for me

Bionic Woman

Having a "Port" inserted is a very weird feeling. It's a small plastic box that sits under your skin in the chest and two small tubes connect to a vein in your neck and another in your chest.  Chemotherapy and Herceptin will be delivered via the port as opposed to turning my veins into railroad tracks.  Right now, there is a tube or two that hangs outside since I am starting therapy on Thursday but I understand it will eventually be removed.  Thank God it's taped up because with my luck, my cat would think it was a new toy.

I'm trying not to be a baby but...Jesus - I think this hurts more than the lumpectomy.

The whole contraption reminds me of my Jamie Sommers doll (AKA Bionic Woman) I had as a kid.  You removed a panel on her arm and leg to reveal she was a machine.  Although I have no moving parts, it's still an odd sensation knowing this sits under your skin.

Fasting began at midnight and when we arrived at the hospital, the directions provided by the nurse was about as clear as my father giving me directions.  Arriving at the wrong entrance, Meta took the maze beneath the Civic.  With no food or coffee, I felt like a slug in a labyrinth.

As I checked in, I turned around to a woman, invading my space.  She looked at me quite angrily and said "I had an appointment over an hour ago." 

Why is she telling me?  I made it on time.

Turns out she went to the wrong hospital to have her port removed and by the time she arrived at the Civic was on a tangent.  What could the nurses do?  They were going to squeeze her in but that would require waiting.  She expressed her frustration to anyone within earshot.  I was told all "port removals" are done at the Civic Hospital.  She wrote down the wrong hospital.  Obviously she has finished Chemotherapy and still hasn't figured out glitches occur.  I learned last week before even starting, that I will be moving from hospital to hospital, there will always be waiting and nothing goes according to plan - And she hasn't figured this out yet???

I recognized her from another period of my life (perhaps retail) and I had a flashback to her condescending voice.  As the nurses were changes shifts, one said to the other "Oh, and disregard"  I know exactly what that code meant.

I made a promise right on the spot that I won't become "That Lady"

I don't understand why surgeons go into graphic detail about any procedure they are going to do for you.  I showed up for my scheduled appointment.  I'm lying in a gurney in a backless gown.  I'm likely not going to back out that point...So why tell me you are going to tug on my veins and attach a tube?  Do they want me to say "Oh wait. On second thought, I don't think I am going to do this..." 

Just do it and tell me what I have to do afterwards to take care of it.

The problem with conscious sedation is that I think I am a stand up comedian at a night club during any procedure.  I've had plenty of colonoscopies in my time to know its best for all parties involved to render me speechless.  Although I can't remember any of my jokes, I certainly remember chatting every one's ear off and discovered one of the nurses is married to a lad from Shawville.

I am starting to think I have built a tolerance to freezings and sedations.  Two freezings didn't kick in during the needle biopsies, which resulted in me grabbing the edge of the table, while the nurse held my legs down.  I brought new meaning to whiter shade of pale - apparently my lips turned white.

Again yesterday, whatever drugs they gave me didn't work and I think I took everything they had available in the end to reach my happy place.  We didn't start off on the best foot when I felt them rooting around inside me.

Afterwards, a lovely continental breakfast was served in the recovery room.  Thank God Meta showed up with coffee and real food.

But there was no rest for the wicked and we were off to the General for a final visit with the Oncologist and company.  By the end of the day, the freezing wore off and life was not so good.

This week is in true spirit of a rock star - Performing at various hospitals.  I need a black Tshirt with concert dates written on the back

Not as pretty as Laura's work but  you get the idea.  Now if only I could make the same sound when I run and jump as the Bionic Woman

Pixie Cuts

Today was the start of a very busy week.  A million and one things to do before I start chemo on Thursday.

I had a nice, quiet weekend away with my guy. There was no dog waking us up to go out or a cat walking across our heads.  It was a the perfect calm before the storm

Tonight was the big "chop chop:"  Number 8 on the clippers to be exact.  Last month I met a young hairstylist who collects and donates hair to Angel Hair.  A non profit organization that creates wigs for children.  Given the chances of my losing hair are very high and after learning that they don't have many natural blondes donating their hair, it was something I really wanted to do.

Its my practical side telling me "if you are likely going to lose your hair anyways, give it to someone who can use it"

Besides, less work for me in the morning even if I don't lose it.

I read somewhere that cutting your hair before treatments is called "Owning the Cancer."  Now whatever idiot coined that intelligent phrase should be shot.  Last time I checked no one wanted to "Own" cancer.  In fact if I could wrap it up, shove it in the mailbox with "Return To Sender" stamped across the front, I would be quite content.  I prefer to call tonight "doing what needs to be done to get you through to the next step."

Earlier today Kim, Meta and I attended "chemo school."  An education session to help prepare people for their treatments.  The class included a short PowerPoint presentation, a question/answer period with a nurse and a tour of the chemotherapy treatment area.  Now for whatever reason, the questions that concerned me the most, revolved around intimacy, wine and driving.  So likely the nurse thought I was a sex crazed alcoholic. I only ask the questions others are afraid to ask.   As I scanned the room, a few people caught my attention:

• The lady and her friend on the verge of going "pink ribbon"  Yes, you can tell those types
• A cute older couple who are taking things together in strides. They didn't ask too many questions
• An older gentleman with his daughter and she isn't taking things very well.  She is trying to control a situation she has absolutely no control over
• An older woman who lives alone with her cat.  I got the feeling she doesn't have a good support network and wonder how she copes

Then I spied a woman about my age as we were having a tour of the facility.  She commented that she needed to cut her hair.  I told her I was cutting mine tonight and asked her when she was starting treatments. Her voice cracked when she said "tomorrow."  I just gave her a hug.  I will likely be reacting the same way on Wednesday.  I realized thisis the first point I have interacted with people who ARE BEGINNING to go through this, not HAVE BEEN. 

Leaving the hospital, Kim wouldn't let me stand near her at the parking machine for fear I will yell at her.  Somehow, I have evolved into the Parking Machine Gestapo.  No one wants me around when they pay for parking

Showdown: Thursday at Noon

I received news this week that I start chemotherapy at noon on Thursday, November 21st; almost 3 months since this whole fiasco began.

Jen and Carolyn are the first to receive VIP backstage passes.  They will accompany me on the inaugural visit!  Rock Tshirts are the mandatory dress code

I won't go into detail about the scheduling nightmare I experienced this week or my nurse with a personality of sandpaper (and I was told I am stuck with her so learn to play nice) Essentially the problem is that I have learned that cancer is treated in Ottawa on Tuesdays and Thursdays (Note the sarcasm) and I had three very important appointments booked with a couple of  hours of one another at two different hospitals.  And the first one required sedation!

Finally I believe I have the issue resolved and now it stands I am going back to school; Chemo school on Monday at the Queensway Carleton. I will have a port inserted Tuesday at the Civic and afterwards, I go the General to wait, in hopes that my Oncologist can squeeze me in between appointments. And back at the Queensway for the big day because there is no room at the inn at the General.

I wasn't a happy camper but I guess part of the lesson I need to learn will be to have patience, be flexible and stay on top of things.

Yesterday was my ECG and guess what?  I have a heart!  No it isn't black and it didn't take an hour to find.

Social media makes it easier to send friends updates on any new information or events.  I updated my Facebook status to notify my friends that Thursday is the big day.  I was overwhelmed by all the positive thoughts, messages and offers to help. 

To be honest, I have days now and then when I have the case of the "WHY MEs?"  It happened after I first told and last week again.  I have told there will be more days like that ahead of me.  I always considered myself a good person who tries to be nice to everyone, feel that I have a deeper sense of spirituality than most, volunteer in my community...So what did I do to deserve this?  But I realized once again yesterday when so many people reached out to me that I am lucky and blessed.  I have so many offers to come with me for treatments, that I had to turn people down for this time around.  My freezer is already stocked with food and offers from others.  Friends have invited me to stay with them during treatments.  Even people I would consider more of "acquaintances" have provided their numbers with offers to chauffeur me to appointments, run errands or just talk.

It took a while to allow people to help me.  I am very stubborn and independent but there comes a point where you need to let people into your life who want to help.  I have equated the feeling to swimming lessons.  When you first try to float on your back it is very difficult.  Your muscles tense and you start to sink.  You need learn to relax and let go.  Often your instructor ill still have her hands under your back for support and keep you above water.  Eventually, when you are ready; she moves her hands away and you can float in the water on your own.

There are so many people who have to endure an illness alone and I can't even begin to imagine how that would feel. 

Eat Your Veggies

I believe diet and exercise plays a crucial role in beating cancer.  A healthy body will help me endure treatments and keep my energy levels up.

I have spent the last 39 years as the poster child of "What Not Eat:"  Red meat, lots of sweets, carbs, salt, fatty foods and very little vegetables.  Often, I would wake up at 2:30 AM, eat 3 ice cream sandwich bars and go back to bed.  I still fight with my mother over not eating my vegetables but since I am taller than her, she can't make me sit at the table until I finish my plate any longer.

Being diagnosed with cancer is a bit of a wake up call.  It's like your body slaps you right across the face and yells; "Hey you idiot.  You know all the bad stuff you have done to me?  Well, pay back is a bitch."

Its time to make some significant changes.

There is no possible way I will ever become a vegetarian.  I do not think it is humanly possible for me.  I have friends who have been urging me to see their Nutritionist but I believe she is a cult leader. I know the changes I need to make to my diet and lifestyle.  I have never made the effort and now is the time.  It isn't going to happen overnight but rather a slow and steady transition.  I have already begun to add cauliflower to my mashed potatoes, eat more chicken, salads and raw vegetables.  I also have cut back considerably on sweets.

Many people ask "Let me know if I can do anything for you"...And I tell them to send me easy recipes that include vegetables but for people that hate the taste of vegetables.

Last week I met with my "Cancer Coach" at the Maplesoft Centre.  I wasn't exactly sure what her role was but expected it to be an orientation of the resources offered at the centre.  Instead, she is a health and wellness professional who helps me set my personal health/wellness goals and creates a game plan to meet these goals.   So we discussed my diet and she gave me a few pointers on how to set metrics and monitor my progress.  In addition to the above, I also feel I do not drink enough water but drink too much coffee instead.

What did I do the minute I left?  I met Bobby for a coffee at Starbucks, then on my way home stopped to have a couple of vodka/cokes with some friends (does ice cubes count?) and finished it off with a bowel of ice cream before bed.

I really am a work in progress

I was impressed with the Maplesoft Centre.  There were so many resources available including nutrition classes, art classes and various fitness classes.  Ok, the laughter yoga and pink swan ballet may be too many of the Pink Ribbon brigade for my liking; but when I feel the on set of becoming a germaphobe, its nice to know I can do Hatha yoga in a "hygienic environment."  I hope to continue using my own gym, except if the regulars are sick ...or worse, in January when all the New Years' resolution people decide to use their annual membership for 3 weeks.

The hardest part will be "taking it easy"  I have never been one to sit still but I have been forewarned that I will be very tired and the cheat sheet provided by the hospital indicates my type of chemo treatments will make me very sick.  When I was read the riot act by my Dr about getting rest and staying away from sick people, the first thought that passed through my head was "How can I host Christmas dinner?"  Then panic struck at the thought of a good band coming to Ottawa and what if I can't go?  I still live in a fantasy land where I don't believe I will be sick nor tired.  I continue living in that fantasy land until the moment I am sick

You Just Pick Yourself Back Up and Brush Off the Dust

I was going to start off this entry with an apology for last night’s update being a bit depressing but I’m not going to because everyone is allowed to have good and bad days and yesterday was a bad day for me.   Last night I was not in my happy place and that is ok...I am allowed.

Yesterday, I was smacked right across the face with a lot of information.  We were not persistent in asking the oncologist and nurse to slow down and explain things clearly until we understood.  We should have resisted when we were told to put down the pencils and listen to what she had to say, because we were going to receive handouts.  They were at least 30 minutes behind schedule and it was over lunch time so likely both professionals were hungry.  Finally, because I felt that HER2 was not explained properly, I had to Google it which is never a good thing

Lesson learned and I won’t let it happen again

I understand they have lots of patients to see but the only one I care about right now is me and I need to express that each time.

From now on, I will also carry snacks for my health care team, in case they don’t have time to eat beforehand. 

 Today’s appointment went much smoother.  The nurse took the time to explain everything, we didn’t grasp yesterday and the Resident was equally as clear with his information.  My Radiation Oncologist (Rad Oc.) is a wonderful man with a thick Parisian accent, who reminds me a wee bit of Daniel Craig and I feel the need to bring cheese and wine to our next meeting.

 Everything I Googled last night was correct last night but stats show it has a 20% chance of recurring anywhere in the body, over the next 10 years and 80-85% rate of survival.  Now I also have chances of getting hit by a bus, shot or struck by lightning and I don’t lose sleep over that at nights.  All I need to know right now is that testing positive for the HER2 Receptor, determines the type of treatment I receive.

I feel confident in not moving forward with a second surgery to remove the lymph nodes.  Studies show there is no difference in the outcome; between surgery or the treatment I receive.

6 weeks of radiation treatment will follow chemotherapy and it will target breast, arm pit and collarbone area.

The other tidbit of information I just found out was that ;Yes, it may occur in 20-25% of all breast cancer patients but the HER2 + is  common for women my age…Not a high number of Pre-menopausal women get breast cancer in the first place. I going to guess that is part of the reason why it sits around 25%

My spidey senses tell me that treatments will start on the 21^st or 22^nd.  I will likely be another puddle at least one more time between now and then.  But I am ok, you can’t keep me down for long.

On a side note; I almost became one of those annoying people at the parking pay machine yesterday.  I left so bewildered that I left without stopping at the pay machine.  I am so hell bent at NOT being one of those people; I ran inside quickly.  As the two morons, in front of me took their step back, with their arms out looking for divine intervention as to where they insert payment; I quickly scanned the machine for “insert card, insert payment, press here for receipts” and got out in record time.

Sentencing

Today I met with my Oncologist.  I did not feel anymore intelligent, leaving than when I walked in. In fact, it was pretty confusing and could not keep up with all the information thrown my way.

What did I learn?
Its Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, Grade 3 (aggressive), Stage II (caught early).  The tissue around the tumour tested negative 
My Estrogen and Progesterone receptors tested negative; meaning my cancer is not affected by them
But my HER2 levels (protein) tested positive
About 20-25% of breast cancer patients fall into my category

What that means?
God only knows....

I know I promised myself that I wouldn't Google anything but since I didn't grasp what I heard today, I took a sneak peek online. Don't worry, I am still sane but this is what I learned:
I have a crappy, aggressive form of cancer with a higher chance of recurrence and a lower chance of survival...Fuck...
However, treatments have come a long way and the outcome is much more positive.

Treatment (AKA Sentencing)
Chemotherapy: 6 treatments called FEC-D over a span of 18 weeks.  One treatment will likely last 1 1/2 hours, wait three weeks for my immune system to bottom out, let it return to normal and do it all over again.
Typical side effects include everything you read about

Herceptin: At my fifth chemo treatment, an antibody called Herceptin will be introduced.  It is also administered via IV and that is a total of 18 treatments with a three week break, between each one.

Radiation:  I meet with the Radiation Oncologist tomorrow (not to be confused with a Radiologist) but it will begin right after Chemo.  I am not sure of all the details

Total treatment time?  According to our calculations, 66 weeks

Next steps?

Meet Radiation Oncologist (Dr. C) - a second surgery to remove lymph nodes has not been ruled out and I will get his opinion, look at statistics, etc and make a decision based on that.  If I decide to go ahead, then it will delay treatment 4-6 weeks

Heart test -  just to make sure I can handle all of this

Dentist appointment - Common symptoms include cankers, thrush, etc.  SoI need a good cleaning and advice on oral care

Chemo School - To learn what to expect and how to prepare for it

Have a "Port" inserted - This is a little plastic tube inserted under the skin, connected to a vein.  This is how I will be receiving treatments as opposed to wrecking havoc on my veins

Am I scared??...Hell Ya.  I would be lying if I said I wasn't.  In fact the past week has been a little more of an emotional roller coaster than the usual tilt-a-whirl I prefer in the "carnival of life."  I am used to life being a little more cut and dried.  If there is something wrong, you do the recommended and that's it!  You move on.  And that's the attitude I have despite having two chronic illnesses: Colitis went in remission and Graves Disease has been easily controlled by medication. 

But with cancer, solutions don't seem to be so simple

I keep telling myself that I am not the first woman to go through this...25% of women with breast cancer are in the same boat as me and many are fine.  People have been in worse situations and bounce back beautifully.  It seems treatments used have a higher success rate.  Will it come back?  show up somewhere else? It could and couldn't...Tomorrow one of you could be hit with cancer too.  It shouldn't affect how I live my life.

The Verdict

Today was the follow up consultation with my surgeon, Dr. Beaulieu.  She had the results from my lymph node biopsy, bone scan, liver scan and chest X ray. 

No matter how well I thought I had mentally prepared myself for whatever she was going throw in front of me, I felt nausea a couple of hours before my appointment.  My friend Meta (who is like the captain of "Team Jen" and been at the last few appointments) told me had I said that I felt anything different, she would call me liar.

First piece of news:  During surgery, she removed a lump about 2.2 x1.9 x1.9 cm, another benign lump, a minimum of 1 mm of tissue surrounding the lump and 5 (2 were stuck together) lymph nodes.

The verdict?

Two lymph nodes have tested positive for cancer but she will recommend that I do not have surgery.  Ultimately the Oncologist makes the final decision.   2-3 affected lymph nodes are apparently a grey area and she sees there being greater risks involved with surgery vs the benefits of removing the lymph nodes.  Since it had already been decided that I would be having chemo as a preventative and radiation was a no-brainer (just widen the area to target), she doesn't think it will increase or decrease the chance of cancer spreading....I hope to God its a "no" to surgery because an incision in your armpit is one huge pain in the ass and don't even get me started about feeling useless.  Yesterday was my first day back at the gym and it was a big accomplishment to lift 3 lbs over my head.

Now I wait to hear from the Oncologist and it looks like I will be starting treatments by the end of November....Bring it on!

In the interim, the German Virgo will be back in preparation mode....

Now I really have to learn how to take it easy.  That will be the toughest part.  Just my luck, my immune system is going to bottom out during cold/flu season so Good Time Jenny will be on sabbatical.  I have already informed work that I have no intentional of sitting idle so find me something to do from home....and if I want to go into the office, they can all wear masks!

One final piece of news:  My lungs and liver are "exceptional"....Musta got the test results mixed up with someone else

Kick Off Gurl

The night before my surgery my friend Karma asked if I would be interested in participating in a fundraiser for breast cancer.  Her boyfriend, Phil coaches college (CEGEP) football and their last home game of the season, raises money annually for the Quebec Breast Cancer Foundation and I would be their kick off girl.

At first I wasn't overly keen on the idea.  I didn't want the attention; especially from strangers.  Nor am I huge "Pink Ribbon" gal but on the flip side no one is ever going to ask me to hang out with college football players; young enough to be my sons when I'm healthy...so why the hell not??

A few weeks ago, I had lunch with another woman who recently was treated for breast cancer and she said something that really hit home for me.  She thought the football game was a fantastic idea because even though I have cancer, I have a healthy, happy, positive image and people need to see that side to the illness.

Eventually I let Karma make the executive decision for me.  But once she did, I decided that this blog, my photos with Laura or any other related activities should demonstrate that cancer doesn't have to be related to images of illness, or people with no hair or people dying.  I know I mentioned it in an earlier post but it really bears repeating

JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE CANCER DOESN'T MEAN YOU ARE DYING OR NEED TO LIVE LIFE LIKE YOU ARE SICK OR DYING

We are all dying.  Mortality is part of life and I could get easily hit by a bus tomorrow morning or live until I am 100.  So could anyone else. 

I can still have fun and do all the things I normally do.  I just try to keep a few nights alone and go to bed a bit earlier.  Nothing has changed about me nor do I expect people to treat me differently or "baby" me.  Maybe it will all change when I start treatments but I will cross that bridge when I come to it

I digress.

So Saturday evening was the big game...Ice cold and raining.  The plan was to be introduced by the announcer; along with a surgeon from the Gatineau Hospital.  The surgeon makes a brief speech, I shake the players' hands and kick the ball out of the surgeon's hands.

As I start shaking hands, one of the players says to me with a grin "You can have which ever one of us you want"....LOL  Now that is the exact image I have been trying to portray.  No, not a cougar (although I felt like one) but happy sexy rock star!

Now I have never even been to a football game before.  I watched the Super Bowl once and was bored.  This game I was nervous about kicking the ball.  I didn't want to hit the surgeon (I am sure his career flashed before his eyes as I lifted my toe) Nor did I want to kick and wipe out on my back in front of everyone.  I wore my motorcycle boots so either scenario was possible.  But my biggest mistake was aiming to kick the wrong way.

Anyways, it went well, I kicked the ball, I stayed standing and the surgeon can continue to work.  I had a lot of fun and when the weather is warmer, I may go out and actually watch a full game next year.

On Sunday, I went to church for the first time since my surgery.  Now as I mentioned in my last post; I made it in the Ladysmith social notes section of the community newspaper.  So everyone knew what was going on in my life.  Plus my parents are regular church folk and have been quite open about things.  What blew me away was when I sat down, a few people came and asked how I was feeling.  Now please don't get me wrong...I appreciate the concern and am extremely grateful that I have an incredible support network of family/ friends and a caring community who would lend me a helping hand; but what is with the sad faces???  Everyone who asked how I was feeling, had a concerned or sad face and followed up with a comment "Well, you look well"

What the hell am I supposed to look like??  Ok, take the "Hell" out.  I was sitting in God's house.

Maybe I am supposed to be an evangelist and preach the word that cancer can include vibrant, happy people too

One of the Regulars

It's Official!

I am a regular at  the Montfort Hospital. 

I can take anyone on a guided tour, I know exactly where to go, I finish the orderly's sentences with regards to where I change, where the waiting rooms are, etc.  Not only do I recognize faces but they now recognize me in the hall and some have asked how my surgery was. I even scored packets of gauze to help with the chaffing.

Then today I thought for a split second I achieved the golden status of parking privileges.  I had a bone scan today and when I arrived for my appointment, was told they were running behind and to return in 45 minutes.  I went to the parking pay machine (of course I had to show someone where to insert their ticket and money first) and when I inserted my ticket, it spit it back out with a message "Have a nice day"  SCORE!

I enquired about my acquiring my bone scan images.  I thought it would be really cool to have a full image of my skeleton. 

I assume over the next month I will be moving on to another hospital for treatments and my visits to the Montfort will become less and less.  I will miss that place as the care has been excellent, and the compassion and sincerity of everyone I have come in contact with who works there is incredible.

There Are Others Out There

I had lunch on Friday with a woman in my line of work who was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2010.  I have known her for a while, we have similar work ethics and I have a great deal of respect for her.  I remember at the time, she had mentioned she took very little time off work.  So when the time was right for me, I reached out to her.

It was exactly what I needed.  She told me her story and I picked up a few little tips/tricks for myself. I walked away feeling really confident that I can get through this.  Not that I have any doubts

I had talked to a couple of other women who have been super fantastic at providing me with information and answering all my questions, with out telling me to back off.  Its good to know I have women within my age range who have gone through this that I can talk to.

I may be living in a fantasy but in my world, cancer, treatments, etc isn't going to really affect me and my day to day activities that much.  Sure I may not be able to keep my usual hectic active lifestyle but that is a good thing.  I have been trying to slow down for years.  I need to learn how to go to bed earlier too.  And if I start chemo - as my aunt pointed out today - Off the sauce. But I am not a big drinker; although I went out in style a week before surgery (klassy with a capital K style)

But I can't imagine it affecting work very much.  Maybe take a little time off for appointments and work from home when I feel sick.  In fact, I think I have been more focused the past couple weeks just to prove the point I can do this.

I also cannot imagine any type of treatment making me lose my appetite.  I am making an honest effort to eat healthier and ate all sorts of veggies this weekend.  I even added tuna and baby spinach to Kraft Dinner.  It was also a full moon - enough said.

After my Friday lunch, I decided I was ready to "Come out."  I already told a lot of people but the rumour mill was starting.  That isn't a big deal as I am not used to being private.  I grew up in a small town and everyone knows everyone's business.  Heck, I even made it in the town newspaper's social notes column.  I just wanted everyone to know in case they see me walking around clutching my boob because its sore post surgery and I walk with a bounce or when I don't go out as often, or if I don't respond to people's emails and texts right away or if/when it does come to chemo people do not wonder why I am suddenly a brunette.  It should not be a big deal.  But I also do not want a pity party, people feeling sorry for me or insincere "if there is anything I can do..."  So the perfect way was using Laura Kovacs Photography Facebook page.  She had posted some pictures from our pre surgery shoot and wrote a very nice blurp about the story behind the shoot.  Initially, I didn't want to be tagged  but decided afterwards for an "old lady who was slightly hungover post Oktoberfest"  I look pretty darn good and would rather have those images attached to being diagnosed with cancer as opposed to people imagining a sickly image.  Before I was told I had cancer, that is what I always pictured.

So this week is bone scan week and a little more physical activity.  Next week is post surgery consult to see if it has hit the lymph nodes, hopefully can return to the gym and bring the pets home.  I totally get it now - all the health care professionals I have been in contact with, plus a number of friends who have experienced cancer, kept telling me to get through everything one step at a time without looking too far ahead.  I never thought I would say this but I am taking things one day at a time.

Curse of the Blondes

I learned an interesting fact today:  In addition to burning like a St Hubert Chicken in the sun, fair skin blondes have a tendency to bruise and bleed more than the average person.

Area 51 which is what I will be referring to my right breast and arm pit for the next few weeks is extremely sore, swollen and I have tingling sensations down my arm.  I managed to squeeze in an appointment with my surgeon today...To make sure I am just being a wimp.

You know its bad when you remove your gown and the surgeon makes a face.  The bruising is more excessive than the usual and there has been some bleeding on the inside.  But to go back inside the wounds will not necessarily fix the problem and could potentially risk infection.

The prescription?  Suck it up buttercup

Oh and all the Advil and Aspirin I have been taking the past 6 days makes the situation worse.  It thins blood.  I never even looked at my Tylenol bottle.

The Tensor bandage also provides relief by keeping the area tight.  I already walk around with that bandage as Linus walks around with his blanket but decided I need an assortment.  A- there is no such thing as colored tensor bandages B- drug stores only carry bandages 5 metres long.  The one they gave me from the hospital is longer than me.  So I am wrapped back up and whatever boobs I have left, get pushed downwards.  At least that is what I keep telling myself.  It isn't a gut, its like pushing toothpaste around a tube.

But I discovered that my vodka bottle I keep in the freezer fits perfectly into my armpit and makes the perfect compress.

Surgery, Recovery and CSI

Today was my first feeble attempt at going back to reality; post surgery......may want to take another stab at it again next week. Pretty sure I won't be back in the saddle by tomorrow

Surgery went well.  I made it to the hospital in time and of course everyone was super cool and helpful.  I could tell my father wanted to do something for me so I asked if he would take me to Kim's in the morning.  He arrived in plenty of time but was trying to rush me.  "It doesn't take 15 minutes to get to Kim's place" 

When you drive 15 km below the speed limit, it does.

Even the cats tried to help.  They woke me up in plenty of time to get ready and even gave me a little gift: A live mouse.  Of course, I didn't have time to deal with it, so I let them chase the mouse in and out of the bedroom while I was getting dressed. My gift eventually escaped.

God love Kim and Shawn.  They got up before the crack of dawn to take me to the hospital, checked me in and stuck around town until I was ready to go home.

At the hospital, I changed into my little gown but had difficulty in understanding the purpose of two pairs of paper slippers.  I misunderstood the nurse's instructions and put one pair on my feet, tried to put my flip flops back on and then put the second pair over everything.  No No - the nurse meant a pair for my feet and a pair to cover my flip flops when I put them in the bag with my clothes.  "I have not had anything to eat or drink so please do not give me difficult instructions without any coffee."

Just my luck, I am set up in front of the nurses' station.  I watch them drink coffee like I'm watching porn.  I contemplated rolling a nurse for her Timmies

Kim pulled through with the book!  I highly recommend Chelsea Handler's "Are You There God, It"s Me Chelsea"  It was so funny that while I was lying in a gurney waiting for a CT Scan in front of 4 people, I burst out laughing.  And if you know me, I don't chuckle quietly.

So I get injected with something, take some photos of the area and asked to lie still.  Naturally that is when you get an itch somewhere.  Then I dozed off and startled myself awake..God you feel like a loser when that happens. Especially when you are being watched.

Surgery was delayed by an hour and a bit.  The orderly wrapped me up in blankets, took me by wheel chair to the operating room which wasn't ready.   I wait in the hall as people are walking in and out of the room.  That is when I over hear  "We haven't had a heart attack here in a while"  Great...That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. 

Finally he takes me into the room and helps me up onto bed that has two side panels sticking out for my arms.  I ask the orderly if he has ever heard the song Jesus Christ Pose by Soundgarden because that is playing in my head.  I also warn a nurse that if I wake up with Stigmata, I will know they did more than remove a lump.

I start telling everyone that this is my first surgery and it certainly doens't look the same as it does on TV. The room is bigger, brighter and no one is talking about who is sleeping with who at the hospital - Plus I have no make up and if this was TV I would look much better.  I guess they had enough of my rambling because someone injects me and the last thing I remember saying is "Oh yeah, that's the good shit"

The surgery went well.  They removed the lump, some extra tissue and 4 lymph nodes.  She even saw another lump and took it out at the same time.  Afterwards, I rested, ate a cookie, read my medical files (Note: Surgeon called me a lovely person) and was told I would be peeing green for the next 24 hours.  Now I wait aprx. 2 weeks to see if it has traveled to the lymph nodes (and if I need another surgery) and hopefully by the end of Novemeber learn what my treatment will be.

Kim fetched me a few hours laters.  One thing I don't understand is why the hospital would ask an average person to wheel me out.  I love Kim and she is a great driver but she will never have a career as an orderly.  She rammed me into walls, got her pant legs caught in the wheel and had me stuck in a door with another lady in a wheel chair.

I have to say my experience at the Montfort has been nothing but positive.   The staff have been so friendly and helpful throughout  this whole process, moved me through the system very quickly and have given me the best care.  I even received a nice email from the nurse who answers all my surgery questions just before I went in.

Lo and behold the Holy Grail was waiting for me in the car!  An all dressed Harvey's cheeseburger.  I inhaled it and then inhaled Gravol about 45 minutes later on the drive home.

The first evening, my cousin was assigned as nurse.  She had not arrived when I got home so I went to bed and my father waited around. By the time I woke up, Susie had arrived and was settling in.

"What are you doing up?" She asks as I walk out of the bedroom "Jennifer, I thought you were going to be out like a light and I was looking forward to lying on the couch and reading magazines."

Her bedside manner amazes me.

Day one went really well.  I vacuumed, made a cheesecake and did 20 crunches.  By night time, I was sitting at the table with an ice pack.  Part of the problem with wearing a tensor bandage around your boobs is that they are flat and your stomach looks bigger. Hence, I decided I needed to do crunches.   One thing cancer is going to teach me is how to take it easy.  That will be another "journey"

Second night went well, except my overweight cat decided to walk across my chest.  Despite he exceeds the weight restrictions, he got tossed out pretty quickly.  He moved to my cousin's door and "sang the song of his people"

I thought having surgery before Thanksgiving was an excellent idea, giving me an extra day to recover.  What I didn't realize was that it also meant having my family over for dinner while I stayed sober.  God help me if I start chemo before Christmas!

Monday and Tuesday were quieter days, spent lying on the couch, eating leftovers and watching three seasons of CSI.  I even started to dream abut investigating dead people

One of my other cousins who is a nurse helped remove the dressing.  It was comforting to hear her say, the surgeon did an excellent job because the incisions are quite small and clean, seems to be healing really well and likely won't lose much shape on that side.  I couldn't tell because I can't see past the bruising.  My boob and everything around it looks like it went through an old fashioned wringer washer.  Sports Illustrated will not be calling me anytime soon for their swimsuit edition.

I decided I was well enough to return to work today.  I hitched a ride into town and settled in at the office.  After the first hour I realized that I had not lifted anything heavier than a remote for the past 2 days.  By the end of the day, I was swollen, sore and numb and am now in bed with pain killers and my beloved tnesor bandage.  Will take it a bit easier tomorrow.

The hardest thing for me is to not be able to do stuff by myself.  Its difficult when I have to ask Gailene to take my garbage to the curb, or I have to leave my cats at the farm because I can't lift the carrier or Kim has to drive me to work because I can't drive a car for a week or Mirella has to take me grocery shopping and push the cart.  I  know I will recover quickly and will soon be able to help everyone out or pay them back with some act of kindness. It just frustrates me to be this way right now and I feel selfish to ask for help.  I dated a midget many years ago who used to call me a "Princess" in a  very derogatory way.  He claimed I wasn't capable of dealing with stressful situations or to do things on my own.  Boy, not only was he short but also stupid.

Downsizing

So tomorrow is the big day…I like to refer it as “Downsizing”  At least that is what I wrote in the comments box when I booked the day off work.

It’s been almost two months since this process started and although I have been pushed through the system very quickly, it feels like it has taken forever to reach this stage.  I know I will be relieved to have the bad parts of me taken out.

I decided as a “Rock Star” I need to come up with a good story behind the scar.  Here have been a few suggestions:

1.      Attacked by a shark off the coast of the Pacific.  This is my favorite and the least likely as I can hardly swim and afraid of deep water.  The surgeon also did not agree to make the incision look like teeth marks

2.      Attacked by wolves which I killed with my bare hands.  This is more plausible since I have wolf remains at home and in my artwork

3.      Some wild, raunchy night with the bass player of LA Guns that I can’t talk about due to a court settlement.  This was suggested as I had posted a pic with him on Facebook that all my female friends seemed to like.

I am always open to suggestions

My surgeon is supposed to be an artist and leave minimal scarring so there may not be a good opportunity for a story.  I also asked if they could photograph me cut open because I thought I could use the images in a collage…. I get the feeling the Montfort does not support my artwork because I thought it was a compromise when they wouldn’t return the left over pieces of the lump after they finished testing.

My biggest post-surgery fear isn’t pain but the fact I may not be able to shower for a few days.  Being a little OCD with cleanliness and showering an average of 3 times a day, I have no idea how I will survive.  I practiced not getting my side wet and think I have mastered it.  The top questions I have prepared for tomorrow is when can I use deodorant, shave, shower and wear a bra

I have to admit, I was a smidgen (and I say “smidgen”) disappointed that it wasn’t a full mastectomy with OHIP covering implants.  I mean who wouldn’t want to be 40 and walk around in public without a bra??  But after I read the procedures of a mastectomy – am pretty grateful I don’t have to deal with drainage and stuff …**shudder

The past week I have spent preparing.  I now know what it’s like for expecting mothers to “nest.”  I have been cleaning, re-arranging furniture, cooking, purchasing trashy magazines, sports bras etc.  I felt it was necessary to move all my furniture and scrub the floors underneath it, rip off all bedding, duvet covers, etc.  I even did a little “Before” photo shoot with Laura so I remember what a full rack looks like.  My German Virgo side has shone through

 I also have my little bag prepared for the hospital which includes socks to keep my feet warm, iPod and reading material.  I wonder if Five Finger Death Punch will increase my heart rate/blood pressure or help me relax…We shall see.

As for reading material; this is very important.  It has to fit within my “rock star” theme.  I thought about magazines but it takes at least 2 hours for the Tasers to travel to the lymph nodes so a book maybe more appropriate.   I set aside a book by Julien Barnes to seem like the literary type but I’m really not interested in reading that.  My childhood friend, Kim is purchasing a book for me today. At first I was hesitant in what she would select but the girl has known me since I was two and gave me a Guns N Roses flag when I was 15 years old….I’m pretty confident in her choice.

Speaking of which, Kim and her hubby are the official drivers tomorrow and doing a McDonald’s drive thru after.  I am very grateful for their support (as I am with everyone.)  There were countless volunteers to take me to and from the hospital. I think my friends just want the entertainment value of watching me perform on whatever drugs I have upon leaving the hospital.  Some of you may wonder where my parents are through all of this.  Trust me, I don’t want my parents driving me.  First of all we would have to leave at 4 AM in order to arrive at the hospital for 8 AM given the way my dad drives; I also think I am a better city driver than dad even if I am post-surgery, jacked up on Morphine and finally, they have to bring the dog everywhere they go and I cannot imagine trying to get a peaceful drive home with Cujo snarling beside me…No Thank You.  Would rather take a bus or hitch hike.

 I would have enjoyed arriving for surgery in true Ab Fab style such as the episode where Eddie has surgery to remove an acupuncture needle from her foot and Patsy has a chemical peel.  But since they don’t serve alcohol in the hospital, and I cannot show up in jewelry, make up or even deodorant; I gave up making an effort.  They will be lucky if I brush my teeth.

Anyways, I hope the process goes well and I am not referring to the actual surgery but paying for parking.  I was there last night and once again am amazed at how people are so stupid and cannot figure out for their lives how to pay for parking.  There is always a line up and always one person at the machine who cannot understand that you insert your card or money where the green light flashes and you need to press the big button that says “RECEIPT” if you want a receipt.  I try to be helpful and tell them what to do but they just stand there dumbfounded and gaped mouth holding their money.  I swear I have to pay for an extra hour just to watch a moron figure it out.

I am looking forward to some peace and quiet, resting, perhaps catch up on my reading about the Kardashians (because I am so worried about how Khloe is doing these days) and having a nice Thanksgiving with my family. 

 I guess this year I realize that I have a little extra to be thankful for :-)

Welcome to Jenny's World

On August 16^th, I went into the hospital for what I thought was a routine mammogram but left scared and shaken when the radiologist told me the lump was abnormal and needed to be taken care of ASAP. 

On August 19^th, my heart sank into my stomach when my family Dr told me the lump in my breast was indicative of cancer. 

So the past 2 months have been a battery of tests…wait for results...more tests… It has finally been confirmed it is breast cancer and now on Friday, I will have a “partial mastectomy”/ “Lumpectomy” or what I call “Downsizing.”  Lymph Nodes will also be removed to determine if it has hit there too.  

After that (4-6 weeks) I should know what the diagnosis is: If it has harpooned any other organs and what the treatment is going to be.

 

Bring it on – I’m ready….

 The first two weeks, I needed a straight jacket.  Not knowing is the worst place to be.  I couldn’t stop thinking about it, would cry every few moments and was convinced every ache/pain I’ve had in the past 6 months meant I had cancer in that area.  By the end of the first two weeks, I was convinced I had bone, pancreatic, lung, throat cancer and a brain tumour.  I was mentally digging my grave. 

 With the incredible support from my friends, work and family (more on them later,) a few alcohol infused moments and my no nonsense surgeon; I seem to be taking this quite well.  It isn’t any different from breaking a leg or having pneumonia…You do what needs to be done to fix it.

 Now I am not one to turn all “Ra Ra Pink Ribbon” – You know the types: They are little miss rays of sunshine who run every single relay/marathon and buy pink fleece sweaters, tool kits, water bottles, gym bags because they are convinced it’s going to make a difference; but many of the companies that manufacture and/or sell these items take a much larger cut than what is actually donated to breast cancer research.  AND beware of the items that say “proceeds will be donated towards breast cancer awareness”  ????  Think we are already aware breast cancer exists – put the money towards the hospitals supporting patients or treatments in your area.

 No, if I turn into that, please take me into the pool and hold my head under water until the bubbles stop coming up.

Instead, I am going to survive cancer like a Rock Star.   That involves being cool, edgy, doing a few outrageous and controversial things and having a “great personal soundtrack.”   So as I told my Cuzie this morning, “Please don’t wear pink on Friday but wear your Alice Cooper concert shirt and have a steak because I will be fasting from midnight on….”

 Initial lessons learned:

1.      Check your boobs and if you don’t want to do it; pick up a guy and have him do it for you

2.      An MRI for your boobs – Feels like they are low hanging fruit

3.      Always take a friend with you to Dr app’ts.  Not only can they help take notes, ask questions…It’s usually a good excuse to go for a drink after

4.      No matter how many times you go to the hospital, they never offer you valet parking

5.      Don’t have discussions about faith and religion with your father after a few drinks

6.      Don’t research anything on the internet – unless you want to make yourself totally crazy

7.      A lot of people, although with good intentions, seem to think they know what is best for your own physical and mental health.  Only YOU know what is best for you.

8.      Things can change in a blink of an eye and life throws curve balls.  Appreciate what you have, your health, your family and friends and live with no regrets.

 

This blog may not provide inspiration.  It may insult some people.  It may even bore the shit out of anyone who decides to read it but I also hope it will put a smile on at least one person’s face at some point.