The Party Comes to an End

As all good parties,  even mine, eventually must come to an end.  I wouldn't change a second about last week.   I had so much fun being surrounded by loved ones to mark the end of chemo.  My party ended abruptly with another hospital visit this week.

I have always been one to plan my own birthdays and milestone celebrations.  This way, I always get what I want and I never expect other people to do the work.  I watch my friends kill themselves over a simple dinner party and then complain after about how much work they did or how much money they spent on food.  I am all about the gathering, the conversation, the laughter and connecting with people.  I am not ashamed to serve a frozen lasagna because I prefer using the time to interact with people.  As I get older and now living with cancer, my friends and family should come to expect more frozen lasagna and paper plates from me.

Anyways, last week I ended the chemo leg of my tour on a high note.  I attended the opening of the Inspiring Change exhibit at Wall Space Gallery which my photograph was part of.  I met some incredible women.  Aside from Michelle, Leslie Anne, Janet, and gallery owner, Patricia; I had the honour of meeting the other women, with breast cancer who were photographed.   Let me tell you,  what these ladies have endured/are enduring, makes my experience look like a walk in the park.  I left humbled, inspired,  invigorated, and blessed.

Christian was my date and when we parted ways at the end of the evening, he explained how his trip to Ottawa was a great learning experience for him.  He saw cancer completely differently after spending time with me, being in the chemo ward and meeting other people who have cancer.  He had an extremely candid and interesting conversation with Linda, whose portrait was a very powerful image of her topless, double mastectomy with no reconstruction.  Had he not learned what he did over the previous days, the conversation would have perhaps been awkward.  However it wasn't and he learned even more from her including how to be a good friend to someone with cancer.  I was mingling and missed the bulk of the conversation but Linda seems like a very cool,  direct but motivating cancer vixen.

I drove to the farm that same evening.  I expected the routine joint pain to start by Sunday and I wanted to be laid out on the couch with the full Woodstock experience.  I wasn't surprised that I felt even more lethargic than usual.  Monday was much worse and by late afternoon,  I had a fever.

"So I guess you don't want to go for a walk"  asked Susie...

The next morning, I called my dad and asked him to take me to the General Hospital. Now don't get me wrong.   I appreciate his help and it even was his birthday.  But we took a longer route because even though I should have gone to emergency the night before with my fever, he had to stop and get gas at his favorite gas station. Then we argued about the route/directions.  The Doctor in emergency was concerned about my heart rate being fast....You think?

I knew the drill this time.  I had two separate bags packed: one for emergency and one if I was admitted.  Tests were ran, I was poked, prodded and by 3:00 pm, sent dad home because I was getting admitted.  This time I landed in a private room because it was suspected that I had a virus.

Anyone entering my room was expected to wear a mask and gloves. There were the usual masks and special ones with a visor.  I snagged a couple of those to play imaginary landmine detection with the kids.  Even food trays were left outside my door.

I really was not planning on returning to the hospital but I tried to make the best of the situation.  I brought trashy magazines, nail hardener, Meta stopped by with burgers.  I ordered movies.  The expectation was that I remain in my room at all times.  I broke free once and snuck out to the vending machine but got busted walking to the kitchen to make a tea.  I felt like a caged animal.

The swab to test for flu is uncomfortable to say the least.  It's a tiny brush on the end of a thin, long handle; inserted into your nose and down into your throat.  My boss suggested I take a selfie but it is too hard when your eyes are squeezed shut and watering.  The result? Some fancy bronchial word and easily translated into the flu.  Antibiotics picked me right up and by the next day, I was trying to negotiate an early release.  My white blood cell count skyrocketed and was fever free...  so why not?  No such luck...  The best deal I got was stay fever free for 24 hours, then I could go off IV.  After being monitored for another day, I would likely be sent home.

My Oncologist stopped by when she heard I landed in the hospital.  We talked about my workout plan,  post chemo/surgery.  She talked to me about setting reasonable goals with regards to weight loss and easing back into working out again.   I didn't have the heart to tell her that earlier that day,  I was trying to guesstimate when I could sign up for the Brazilian martial art,  Capeoria.

On Thursday morning,  while it was still dark, I awoke to a damp pillow,  pyjamas and sheets...uh oh....did I have another fever which broke in the middle of the night?  Would this delay my release?  A few moments later, my nurse entered to take my vitals.  I sat up in bed as she turned on the lights.  I looked around.  My sheets, pyjamas; even my hands and face were covered in blood!

First thought was after doing a Godfather movie marathon the day before was,  where was the horse's head?

Second thought was that was one hell of a nose bleed (very dry in hospital)

Third was more of a panic....What the hell happened?

Turns out I pulled my IV out of my port in my sleep and bled unto the bed but my vitals were the best ever!

With Christian and Leslie Anne at the Inspiring Change exhibit

Milestone Completed

Yesterday was the big day!  My last Chemo ...Hopefully the last one forever!!

The few days leading up to Thursday were very busy and a constant reminder of how blessed I am.  When I picked up Meta for my Oncologist appointment on Tuesday, she handed me a small box.  It was a gift from her friend Ron, whom I have never met but has been following my blog.  It was a pendant in the shape of a guitar pick that said "Rock Star." It was part of Thursday's ensemble 

A couple of weeks ago, I was fortunate to be part of a photo exhibit that opens tomorrow in honour of International Women's Day.  Michelle Valberg has photographed 6 women who have cancer.  My friend, Leslie Anne did my make up....I looked better than before I started chemo!  At the end of the shoot, they asked me to pick a word to describe my cancer experience.  One woman had selected "courage," for example.  Uhm...That was a tough one to decide upon.  Of course I started to cry,  explaining how I just want to be treated and viewed as the same person as I was before my diagnosis and with no sympathy.  But as we discussed further and I prattled on about Hooter and a Half, it was decided to use the term "Rock Star."   The next day I thought to myself; why had I picked such a lame word.  Why didn't I use "Determination?" or as Peter suggested, "Friendship?"  But after receiving the pendant and explaining to Janet from The Ottawa Citizen about how I was anti pink ribbon and instead wore a concert shirt to every chemo, wanted my experience to be referred to as a tour instead of a journey and how many well wishers refer to rock star terminology; I realized I did pick the right word.

On Tuesday night, I got a call from my buddy, Christian in Washington and he informed me that he was arriving on Wednesday to be here for my last chemo...WOW!  Now that's love.  I stopped by to see him Wednesday night (it has been 4 years since I last saw him and we have been great friends since '96) and was happy I did.  He confessed that he isn't comfortable with hospitals, illness or death and was afraid that I may look sick, worn down, etc and didn't know how he would handle it.  A picture on Facebook or a write up in a blog sometimes doesn't hold the real truth and I get that.  He was so relieved to see that I was happy, as healthy as I can be and ready to rock for the next day!

I arrived home that evening, to a message from one of my high school friends.  Rob had dinner with one of his friends who recently started chemo for breast cancer.  He had told her about me and sent her my blog link.  As he read last week's entry, he realized she was the woman I sat next to during my February chemo.  She told him about how she craved chicken wings....Small world!  Moreen is my newest cancer vixen babe to add to the roster.

I was ready to go at the crack of dawn yesterday.  Since Laura was there when I first was diagnosed, provided so much support, documented the tour for me and Meta has been coming to every single appointment, it seemed fitting that they be there for the last chemo.  They picked me and my smorgasbord of snacks promptly at 7:15 AM...The nurse gave me "the look" when I asked if I could drink champagne during chemo.  She said as long as she didn't know what I had in my cup, she wasn't going to say a word.  I may have crossed the line when I asked if I could stash it in the fridge to keep it cold.  It did not matter.  I brought ice packs and if all else failed, there are the mitts you wear during Taxotere.  And yes, I will admit on here that I did drink champagne during chemo.  I am sure I will get the lecture from my family after they read this.  Oh well, I am still alive today.

Carolyn came by to wish me well. Christian met up with us after I was settled and Pascale, who finished her chemo on Tuesday (Yay for her and she looks great!!) stopped by with a care package.  She gets it - Toilet paper, Kleenex with lotion and Dasani....much needed supplies for next week and a bit.

Any more people and I would have needed a doorman and a disco ball.

The time flew by and before I knew it, I was up ringing the bell as loud and as proud as I could!  For those of you who do not know, at your last chemo appointment, you ring a bell to announce you are finished.  Sure,  I will be back every three weeks for Herceptin but this is the biggest hurdle. Chemo was 4 months long and comes with the most side effects.  It realky does require you to make significant life style changes, sacrifices and you truly understand the need to prioritize your life and put yourself first.  Not everyone agreed with how I coped.  By continuing to work as long as I did, by doing as much as I could on my own,  by eating whatever I wanted to, etc and when it was time, move home to be with my family and have some solitude.  That is my choice and my coping mechanism.  No one should tell me how to live my life or think they know what's best for me.  Especially if they haven't experienced cancer and treatments themselves.  Having a great aunt,  twice removed who had breast cancer twenty years ago doesn't make someone a cancer expert.

Over lunch, Christian encouraged me to look at starting my own fundraiser to give back to the hospital.  Something surrounding the "Rock Star" theme in the form of live bands or a pub crawl. It is definitely something to think about.  I could set it up so any money raised, goes directly to the hospital or the Regional Cancer Centre to support local programs.  It isn't going to happen for a while.  I still have another year of treatments and need to time to heal, get back into my groove at work when I return and practice the art of "making time for me."

After a short nap, the festivities continued again and I was very touched to see so many people out to help me celebrate a major milestone.  Friends that I have known since kindergarten to friends I have known for less than a year were there to wish me well.  I was so happy! I wanted to keep going all night but the reality was I did just receive a chemo.  I tried to keep up the party spirit today but its 9 PM and I'm in my PJs, drinking Gatorade and eating Kraft Dinner from a pot. I know my limit.

So what's next? 

I have a few weeks of recovery,  get my immune system back to normal and then more lymph nodes to be removed in early April.  My home care nurse laid down the law when I mentioned Jake E Lee was playing in town four days after my surgery.  Its going to be an invasive surgery, I won't be able to move my right arm (I'm right handed) properly for a while, risk of swelling, stuck with a drain coming out of my arm for at least 7-10 days, no driving for about two weeks and creative showering (can't get the area wet and I love my showers)  Back to the concert....If someone bumps my arm in a bar; well, its game over for me. 

The scars will need to heal properly and even more important, I need to be capable of keeping my arm over my head for at least 10 minutes before I can start radiation.  My main priority in April will be resting and gaining strength in my right arm.  The sooner I can start radiation, the closer I will be to having some of my life back.  Sure Herceptin runs into 2015 but from what I have been told, its no big deal.  I am looking forward to having a routine again, going to a gym, staying awake late and not have to worry about getting sick.

My doctor appointments will begin to drop. I have been seeing my oncologist and getting blood tests every Tuesday before chemo. That drops to every fourth Herceptin treatment and an ECG is thrown in for good measure.  My next doctor appointment is May 1st.  It feels strange to be followed so closely over the past few months and now I am suddenly free.  Treatment week no longer seems like a big affair.

The Oncologist discussed with me life after chemo and radiation.  Many people find it stressful to all of a sudden be outside of the hospital, on their own.  You are followed but it becomes every three months and then after a year, it drops again.  Many will worry about cancer coming back. Aches and pains become a concern and some people need therapy to cope with living with it.  Well, I really didn't think about it until she mentioned it.  I had the concept that I would do what I need to do over the next year and a bit and then everything would be fine. No more cancer - Its cut out out of me, I did chemo; now radiation and a targeted treatment....how could it come back.  Everything is killed.  Is it not?  I am looking forward to the summer because it will signify the majority of my treatment completed and I can begin to live again.  I started to Google concerts, think about road trips and discuss my 40th birthday. 

Then she planted the seed of doubt - Will I be like that?  Will I freak out every time I have a head ache?  Will I need therapy or anti depressants?  I hope not.  Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

I hope I won't be like that. Someone please slap me if I am.

Anyways, to close; I received a great email from my friend Lisa this morning and she included a quote I wanted to share:

Today may there be peace within.  May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be.  May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others.  May you use the gifts that you have received and pass on the love that has been given to you.  May you be content with yourself just the way you are.

Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.  It is there for each and every one of us.



Toute Le Gang!