I returned to work this week. It feels great to trade in my sweat pants for dress pants and be back in the office with all of my team mates after working from home and then being off work. I feel like I have a purpose again.
Its amazing all the little things you can forget in such a short period of time. I forgot passwords, my phone number, where to find things; even how to make an outgoing call. Slowly I am getting back into the saddle.
The first order of business was assessing what clothing I own that still fits. People may think I hide my weight gain well (or they are just being polite) but according to my wardrobe there is no hiding the fact. I was late for work on the first day because I was thrashing around my bedroom, like a fish out of water, getting my tights on. Not like I could place the blame on my hair.
This too shall pass.....
Radiation begins next week and should be a cake walk compared to what my body has been through with chemotherapy and surgery.
I had my "radiation prep" last week. I decided to forgo the radiation school. At the start of all this, my motto was "knowledge is power" and I read all the literature provided by the hospital, attended chemo school; taking detailed notes. Now my motto is "learn as I go." There are only so many times one can go to a hospital. I figure I have to go to radiation anyways and someone will tell me what to do or what to expect while I am there.
I don't remember how many treatments I have. I am pretty sure I was told 23 treatments plus 5 booster treatments (whatever that means) for a total of 28, delivered every day for 5 1/2 weeks. Again, I will just keep going until they stop giving me appointment cards. The targeted radiation area includes breast, armpit and collar bone. The purpose is to ensure there are no little cancer floaties that escaped chemo and surgery. Symptoms include possible fatigue which could be a result of having to go to the hospital and deal with parking idiots every day.
I got a parking pass to the hospital. God help me if I turn into one of them!
Other possible symptoms include skin irritations and a sore throat. Sarah described the skin irritation equivalent to a tag from your clothing rubbing against your skin. Annoying but completely manageable. So I signed up for inline skating lessons during that time. The thought of possibly falling down and breaking my neck will take my mind off any old skin irritation.
My prep consisted of a CT Scan which will help Dr. C determine my treatments. I was able to keep my arm over my head for approximately 20 minutes, during set up and scan. There is always a concern of mobility after surgery but I no issues at all and that means a green light to start radiation on the 6th.
I also received my radiation tattoos: 5 small dots to ensure that my body is lined up each time I receive treatment. Now this is an actual tattoo, applied with a needle and ink. You don't want those bad boys washing off prior to treatment. I am ticklish and have repeatedly mentioned my loud laugh. Well imagine the noise I made while getting marked up. A doctor even walked into the room to ask what all the noise was about and was shocked to hear it was my laugh.
"Usually we have people crying."
Not me.
Any crazy ideas I ever had of having the profile of Jesus tattooed along my ribcage has gone out the window. It would look like scribbles given the way I squirm. I would have grabbed onto the Technologists shoulder for support, as I did with my nurse when he gave me a needle, but I figured that could end horribly.
The other excellent piece of news I would like to share is the following day I visited my Surgeon. She informed me that 16 more lymph nodes were removed in the last surgery and all were cancer free. Everything seems to be healing well and I should have full sensation back in my arm in a couple of months. But each day it gets better and better.
I also didn't say anything stupid as they were putting me under for surgery...again, she may just be polite.
So life seems to be slowly returning to normal: I have moved back to Ottawa, am back at work, my hair is growing back rapidly, and am starting to work out again. Sure I am tired at the end of the day right now and that may continue until after radiation but who cares? My goal right now is to have a lifestyle again where I can talk about something else other than cancer. When you leave your job, the gym, your friends; constantly visit a doctor and have the visible side effects of chemotherapy (aka - hair loss;) the topic of your cancer tour constantly pops its head during your conversations. I would much rather discuss rollerblading, gardening, home renovations...even the rotting whale in Newfoundland.
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Friday, April 11, 2014
Boredom
Not that I ever wish to have another session of chemo again in my life, but recovering from surgery this past week was, in my opinion, more difficult.
At least during chemo, I was completely knocked down for a few days, and wanted to sleep. The days of muscle pain, I stayed heavily medicated until it passed and could physically function during the sore mouth period. But it's a whole different ball game when you physically feel alert except for one portion of your body which has a sharp nagging pain, you can't properly shower, can't lift anything, can't drive and have a drain hanging out of your armpit. Oh yeah, and let's not forget it was the longest winter ever and this week has been beautiful weather. It sucks when you are limited in what you can physically do.
Sitting still isn't one of my many talents. I get very distracted by even a dirty glass in the sink. I argue that I am not anal but merely a German Virgo. So imagine how hard it can be to sit still with my arm propped up, watching Netflix. I was going stir crazy...until I discovered reruns of Good Times. Boy, does JJ make me laugh! But eventually I got bored of him too.
On Monday, my nurse yelled at me for lifting a chair. That was nothing! I had already made the bed and folded laundry. Things need to get done and I am the only person who will do them the way I like it. I remind myself of my late great aunt Martha who in her 90s fell out of bed one morning...and it was a good thing because she saw spots under the bed where her home care provider had missed cleaning.
Getting a little "wacky shacky," I decided to do a little shopping at the mall. I purchased few items which felt like carrying a sack of potatoes on the walk home. Instead of thrashing around in a change room, decided to try on my new clothes when I got home. Dumb idea. First shirt was fine....second? I can't pull anything on over my head. And it hurt even more taking it off. Will wait until next week.
I walked out later to meet Sacha for a coffee. Keeping the drain discreet was a bit of an issue. No matter which way, it was always bulging out. If I pinned it to my bra, it looked like a third breast. Waist line wasn't bad but definitely a major inconvenience when you have to go to the bathroom (especially if you forget to unpin it and then you are back at square one in the pain department.) So I squeezed the bulb to shrink it, tucked it in the side of my bra, in my armpit....equally as stupid and uncomfortable. I kept grabbing myself at the Starbucks.
Removing the drain was the weirdest feeling while pulling out the tube. Not necessarily painful. Again, I jacked myself up on drugs to minimize the pain as grabbed unto my nurse for dear life.
Life is definitely better without the drain and I can take a full shower but won't be back in full swing for a while. Guess baseball is off the list if things to do this spring.
At least during chemo, I was completely knocked down for a few days, and wanted to sleep. The days of muscle pain, I stayed heavily medicated until it passed and could physically function during the sore mouth period. But it's a whole different ball game when you physically feel alert except for one portion of your body which has a sharp nagging pain, you can't properly shower, can't lift anything, can't drive and have a drain hanging out of your armpit. Oh yeah, and let's not forget it was the longest winter ever and this week has been beautiful weather. It sucks when you are limited in what you can physically do.
Sitting still isn't one of my many talents. I get very distracted by even a dirty glass in the sink. I argue that I am not anal but merely a German Virgo. So imagine how hard it can be to sit still with my arm propped up, watching Netflix. I was going stir crazy...until I discovered reruns of Good Times. Boy, does JJ make me laugh! But eventually I got bored of him too.
On Monday, my nurse yelled at me for lifting a chair. That was nothing! I had already made the bed and folded laundry. Things need to get done and I am the only person who will do them the way I like it. I remind myself of my late great aunt Martha who in her 90s fell out of bed one morning...and it was a good thing because she saw spots under the bed where her home care provider had missed cleaning.
Getting a little "wacky shacky," I decided to do a little shopping at the mall. I purchased few items which felt like carrying a sack of potatoes on the walk home. Instead of thrashing around in a change room, decided to try on my new clothes when I got home. Dumb idea. First shirt was fine....second? I can't pull anything on over my head. And it hurt even more taking it off. Will wait until next week.
I walked out later to meet Sacha for a coffee. Keeping the drain discreet was a bit of an issue. No matter which way, it was always bulging out. If I pinned it to my bra, it looked like a third breast. Waist line wasn't bad but definitely a major inconvenience when you have to go to the bathroom (especially if you forget to unpin it and then you are back at square one in the pain department.) So I squeezed the bulb to shrink it, tucked it in the side of my bra, in my armpit....equally as stupid and uncomfortable. I kept grabbing myself at the Starbucks.
Removing the drain was the weirdest feeling while pulling out the tube. Not necessarily painful. Again, I jacked myself up on drugs to minimize the pain as grabbed unto my nurse for dear life.
Life is definitely better without the drain and I can take a full shower but won't be back in full swing for a while. Guess baseball is off the list if things to do this spring.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Surgery is a Comedy
I don't know if it is nerves but I always seem to find hilarious moments on surgery day.
Last Friday was, what I hope, my final surgery. I felt ill prepared compared to the previous surgery. Likely because I didn't see my surgeon in advance to have all my questions answered, but there comes a point when you want to avoid unnecessary doctor appointments.
Thursday was preparation day: Cleaning, grocery shopping, packing a little bag for the hospital. Fasting began at 11 PM, Thursday evening and by 11:01 my tummy was growling. Surgery was scheduled for 12:20...and in my fantasy land, I envisioned my body emaciated, weak from hunger upon my release. Even if that was the case, I have 20+ pounds from chemo to keep me going. I did cheat and had a small cup of black coffee in the morning. If the nurses expect cooperation from me, there better be some caffeine running through my veins.
One of the things I noticed during chemo, is I look and feel totally bad ass walking down the halls of a hospital, dressed head to toe in black with a skull emblazoned across my chest. Motorhead's Hellraiser usually plays in my head. When Meta dropped me off at the Monfort, I am pretty sure I got a raised eyebrow or two from the senior volunteers when I waltzed through the front door. Sadly, no make up and my little pink sneakers, weakened my tough bitch image.
This time my bed was further away from the nurses station where they stand around, drinking their coffee. I closed my curtain to completely avoid them taunting me with their Tim Hortons.
"Well you want us to be on the ball." A nurse commented
I had no comeback for her.
Since Kim's last literary selection was such a hit, she provided me with another Chelsea Handler book to keep me entertained while waiting. I tried hard not to laugh out loud but behind closed curtains, muffling my laugh sounded more like I was crying.
No matter how many blood tests or treatments I receive, I am still the biggest baby when it comes to needles. I was hoping they could use my port but no such luck. The nurse tasked with inserting my pic line, assured me she was the best and wouldn't hurt me. SHE LIED. It is never a good sign when she constantly rubs your arm, looking for a good vein. And the random taps to bring blood to the surface, definitely means it is going to hurt like hell. I just finished chemo, I don't have a good vein left!
I hurt, I'm tired, hungry, cranky and I want coffee!!
At least surgery was on schedule. This made me very happy. Cancer is a giant lesson of "going with the flow" that I haven't mastered. I still hate waiting and want my life scheduled at least three weeks in advance. The nurse and a porter helped me into a wheelchair to take me to the operating room. I removed the hospital gown I used as a house coat, exposing my back side. The porter held the top of my gown shut. "That wasn't the half I am worried about exposing, genius."
Then one of those cool moments happened where you wonder if it's "a sign." As I am being wheeled away, a nurse pats me on the leg and says "It's time to rock n roll, my dear." Since I decided that my cancer treatment would have a rock n roll flair, I took it as a sign that every thing was going to be alright.
I was in the same operating room as last time. As my 20 something porter helped me unto the table, I started to flirt with him. Why not? Never mind I am wearing a hospital gown in the world's most unflattering color, have no make up, no hair, sporting blue shower caps on my feet and one on my head....and I am old enough to be his teenage mother. I am blaming nervousness again or sedation. I am such a loser.
I have learned that when I am nervous, I laugh. Those who know me, know I have a very loud laugh. The echo carries well in the operating room and again, a nurse jumped about four feet into the air when she touched me with her cold hands.
I always tell the anesthesiologist that I wish to be deprived of all my senses and he gets it right every time. The next thing I remember was coming around in the recovery room. He may have been a little too eager to please because I could not function for hours later. In fact, I didn't respond well to the sedation. I had nausea and received Gravol which knocked me down even more. Poor Kim and Shawn - stuck waiting about 2 1/2 hours longer than expected. I vaguely remember calling Shawn, telling him it was like being on the worst drunk ever. The nurses were adamant about me sitting in a chair and it took two of them to carry me across the room. Now, as I mentioned earlier, I don't want to spend any more time in a hospital than required but at that point, I wanted to have a sleepover at the Monfort. I didn't give a rat's ass if I didn't have a tooth brush or extra underwear. I could not fathom the thought of standing. No such luck. I knew I was being released back into the wild when the nurse began to give me instructions on how to empty my drain.
Are you kidding me? I cannot even spell my name and you are expecting me to retain this?
Furthermore, it is now pushing 6 PM and I still have not ate anything. Because I was nauseous, I was denied my ginger ale and soda crackers. Recovery was beginning to feel like Alcatraz.
They finally released me to Kim by 6:30 and repeated all the instructions to her. I am also supposed to report that Kim had practiced for her second guest appearance as a porter and did an excellent job! She didn't hit any walls and narrow pant legs ensured she did not get tangled in the wheels. And God love them! A McDonald's cheeseburger was waiting for me in the back seat. I inhaled it before Shawn shifted the truck into "drive."
Kim knows me all too well and as my former room mate, knows my infinite love of showers. I hooked up my hand held shower on Thursday evening, because sponge baths just don't cut it for me. Even though I was drugged to the point that Kim had 3 - 4 eyes, she knew there was no stopping me from washing the hospital scent from my body. She just stood in the bathroom door way hoping not to hear the thud of my body hitting the bathtub.
My plan was to have a slumber party at Gailene's. I am supposed to stay with someone for 24 hours, post surgery and last surgery, I was very alert. So I thought it would be a fun filled evening of jokes, conversation and laughter. I arrived ready for bed, in my striped pyjamas, toting a healthy salad for our dinner. Screw the salad. I now wanted a donair and a poutine! I managed to stay awake until the delivery man arrived. I was also certain that Gailene was speaking to me in a foreign language but since she told me that one of my eyes was pointing north and the other, Southeast; I guess I was still suffering from the sedation. It was very nice of Gailene to offer me her bed but in my state, she could have put me in a cardboard box on the back porch like a stray animal and I would not have cared. The "stoner munchies" kicked in around 1 AM and I wolfed down cold poutine. To be on the safe side, I took a Gravol.
Saturday morning, I was back at my own place, relaxing. My home care nurse said the bandages were clean and didn't need to be changed until Monday but warned that it will hurt like hell and would give me an hours notice "to take everything that I have. " It wasn't as bad as anticipated and tickled more than anything else.
The drain consists of a small tube inserted in my armpit with a plastic pump at the other end which resembles a grenade. I feel like Al-Queda with it strapped to my bra.
Taking a shower with my bandages and drain resembles a Cirque du Soliel audition and on Sunday, I learned very quickly why I should not hit my arm. I knocked my arm against the wall....Jayzus!!! I won't be doing that again and now understand why I should not go to hear Jake E Lee play tomorrow night in a crowded bar.
Last Friday was, what I hope, my final surgery. I felt ill prepared compared to the previous surgery. Likely because I didn't see my surgeon in advance to have all my questions answered, but there comes a point when you want to avoid unnecessary doctor appointments.
Thursday was preparation day: Cleaning, grocery shopping, packing a little bag for the hospital. Fasting began at 11 PM, Thursday evening and by 11:01 my tummy was growling. Surgery was scheduled for 12:20...and in my fantasy land, I envisioned my body emaciated, weak from hunger upon my release. Even if that was the case, I have 20+ pounds from chemo to keep me going. I did cheat and had a small cup of black coffee in the morning. If the nurses expect cooperation from me, there better be some caffeine running through my veins.
One of the things I noticed during chemo, is I look and feel totally bad ass walking down the halls of a hospital, dressed head to toe in black with a skull emblazoned across my chest. Motorhead's Hellraiser usually plays in my head. When Meta dropped me off at the Monfort, I am pretty sure I got a raised eyebrow or two from the senior volunteers when I waltzed through the front door. Sadly, no make up and my little pink sneakers, weakened my tough bitch image.
This time my bed was further away from the nurses station where they stand around, drinking their coffee. I closed my curtain to completely avoid them taunting me with their Tim Hortons.
"Well you want us to be on the ball." A nurse commented
I had no comeback for her.
Since Kim's last literary selection was such a hit, she provided me with another Chelsea Handler book to keep me entertained while waiting. I tried hard not to laugh out loud but behind closed curtains, muffling my laugh sounded more like I was crying.
No matter how many blood tests or treatments I receive, I am still the biggest baby when it comes to needles. I was hoping they could use my port but no such luck. The nurse tasked with inserting my pic line, assured me she was the best and wouldn't hurt me. SHE LIED. It is never a good sign when she constantly rubs your arm, looking for a good vein. And the random taps to bring blood to the surface, definitely means it is going to hurt like hell. I just finished chemo, I don't have a good vein left!
I hurt, I'm tired, hungry, cranky and I want coffee!!
At least surgery was on schedule. This made me very happy. Cancer is a giant lesson of "going with the flow" that I haven't mastered. I still hate waiting and want my life scheduled at least three weeks in advance. The nurse and a porter helped me into a wheelchair to take me to the operating room. I removed the hospital gown I used as a house coat, exposing my back side. The porter held the top of my gown shut. "That wasn't the half I am worried about exposing, genius."
Then one of those cool moments happened where you wonder if it's "a sign." As I am being wheeled away, a nurse pats me on the leg and says "It's time to rock n roll, my dear." Since I decided that my cancer treatment would have a rock n roll flair, I took it as a sign that every thing was going to be alright.
I was in the same operating room as last time. As my 20 something porter helped me unto the table, I started to flirt with him. Why not? Never mind I am wearing a hospital gown in the world's most unflattering color, have no make up, no hair, sporting blue shower caps on my feet and one on my head....and I am old enough to be his teenage mother. I am blaming nervousness again or sedation. I am such a loser.
I have learned that when I am nervous, I laugh. Those who know me, know I have a very loud laugh. The echo carries well in the operating room and again, a nurse jumped about four feet into the air when she touched me with her cold hands.
I always tell the anesthesiologist that I wish to be deprived of all my senses and he gets it right every time. The next thing I remember was coming around in the recovery room. He may have been a little too eager to please because I could not function for hours later. In fact, I didn't respond well to the sedation. I had nausea and received Gravol which knocked me down even more. Poor Kim and Shawn - stuck waiting about 2 1/2 hours longer than expected. I vaguely remember calling Shawn, telling him it was like being on the worst drunk ever. The nurses were adamant about me sitting in a chair and it took two of them to carry me across the room. Now, as I mentioned earlier, I don't want to spend any more time in a hospital than required but at that point, I wanted to have a sleepover at the Monfort. I didn't give a rat's ass if I didn't have a tooth brush or extra underwear. I could not fathom the thought of standing. No such luck. I knew I was being released back into the wild when the nurse began to give me instructions on how to empty my drain.
Are you kidding me? I cannot even spell my name and you are expecting me to retain this?
Furthermore, it is now pushing 6 PM and I still have not ate anything. Because I was nauseous, I was denied my ginger ale and soda crackers. Recovery was beginning to feel like Alcatraz.
They finally released me to Kim by 6:30 and repeated all the instructions to her. I am also supposed to report that Kim had practiced for her second guest appearance as a porter and did an excellent job! She didn't hit any walls and narrow pant legs ensured she did not get tangled in the wheels. And God love them! A McDonald's cheeseburger was waiting for me in the back seat. I inhaled it before Shawn shifted the truck into "drive."
Kim knows me all too well and as my former room mate, knows my infinite love of showers. I hooked up my hand held shower on Thursday evening, because sponge baths just don't cut it for me. Even though I was drugged to the point that Kim had 3 - 4 eyes, she knew there was no stopping me from washing the hospital scent from my body. She just stood in the bathroom door way hoping not to hear the thud of my body hitting the bathtub.
My plan was to have a slumber party at Gailene's. I am supposed to stay with someone for 24 hours, post surgery and last surgery, I was very alert. So I thought it would be a fun filled evening of jokes, conversation and laughter. I arrived ready for bed, in my striped pyjamas, toting a healthy salad for our dinner. Screw the salad. I now wanted a donair and a poutine! I managed to stay awake until the delivery man arrived. I was also certain that Gailene was speaking to me in a foreign language but since she told me that one of my eyes was pointing north and the other, Southeast; I guess I was still suffering from the sedation. It was very nice of Gailene to offer me her bed but in my state, she could have put me in a cardboard box on the back porch like a stray animal and I would not have cared. The "stoner munchies" kicked in around 1 AM and I wolfed down cold poutine. To be on the safe side, I took a Gravol.
Saturday morning, I was back at my own place, relaxing. My home care nurse said the bandages were clean and didn't need to be changed until Monday but warned that it will hurt like hell and would give me an hours notice "to take everything that I have. " It wasn't as bad as anticipated and tickled more than anything else.
The drain consists of a small tube inserted in my armpit with a plastic pump at the other end which resembles a grenade. I feel like Al-Queda with it strapped to my bra.
Taking a shower with my bandages and drain resembles a Cirque du Soliel audition and on Sunday, I learned very quickly why I should not hit my arm. I knocked my arm against the wall....Jayzus!!! I won't be doing that again and now understand why I should not go to hear Jake E Lee play tomorrow night in a crowded bar.
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Dissection
Tomorrow I return for more surgery. It was recommended that a larger cross section of lymph nodes be removed as a pre caution. If I said I wasn't nervous, I would be lying. Initially, my surgeon didn't want to remove more Lymph nodes because of the risks associated with it. There is a higher chance of Lymphedema or not being able to lift my arm over my head. When it was revealed I was Her 2+, she changed her mind.
One of my friends offered to lift my beer to my mouth if it came to worst case scenario.
Chemotherapy is considered the worst part and I am not arguing that it isn't but the side effects disappear. Not having full use of my arm is a little more permanent. I just hope that I sail through it the same way I have with everything else so far.
Speaking of chemo being finished, every third Thursday at the General is a little more quiet. Herceptin is a 30 minute IV drip, with no major side effects. There is no entourage, no smorgasbord, no board games. But again, its about making the best of it.... After I was hooked up with a bag of fluid, I unhooked my machine and rolled into another module and plugged it next to my fellow cancer vixen, Mo. If my nurse doesn't mind keeping an eye on me in another area, why not have a little visit with my new friend?
Now that my hair is starting to grow back, I have a little buffer between my head and the itchy net of a wig. I decided it was time to have a little fun and play with different looks. On Friday, I was an alternative chick in jet black hair with a large bright red chunk. On Saturday I had flowing blond locks. Although it really doesn't bother me, it was kind of nice to be out in public and not get the double take for being bald.
One of my friends offered to lift my beer to my mouth if it came to worst case scenario.
Chemotherapy is considered the worst part and I am not arguing that it isn't but the side effects disappear. Not having full use of my arm is a little more permanent. I just hope that I sail through it the same way I have with everything else so far.
Speaking of chemo being finished, every third Thursday at the General is a little more quiet. Herceptin is a 30 minute IV drip, with no major side effects. There is no entourage, no smorgasbord, no board games. But again, its about making the best of it.... After I was hooked up with a bag of fluid, I unhooked my machine and rolled into another module and plugged it next to my fellow cancer vixen, Mo. If my nurse doesn't mind keeping an eye on me in another area, why not have a little visit with my new friend?
Now that my hair is starting to grow back, I have a little buffer between my head and the itchy net of a wig. I decided it was time to have a little fun and play with different looks. On Friday, I was an alternative chick in jet black hair with a large bright red chunk. On Saturday I had flowing blond locks. Although it really doesn't bother me, it was kind of nice to be out in public and not get the double take for being bald.
Friday, March 14, 2014
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!
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 |
Friday, March 7, 2014
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.
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!
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Blissful Moments
It has been a few weeks since my last update. Now that I am off work, I am also quasi "off the grid" as I have limited cellphone reception and no internet. It's like a Facebook, email, Linked In, etc detox. It took almost three weeks but I am finally beginning to feel relaxed and it is blissful. I practice yoga with my instructor, Amanda who has developed a series of poses based on my physical ability, my meditation practice has moved outside (dressed appropriately for winter) and have been lucky to be surround by deer....You can't buy that level of therapy. I am reading books,I've had for years but never picked up and doing little projects that I've always wanted to try but never made the time. Now that I have figured out how to decoupage, I want to Mod Podge everything. I spend most of the time in the country, next door to my parents. They have been a big help and also being closer to the rest of my family has been great.
My last chemo treatment was February 13th and it was the longest day at the hospital yet; 6 1/2 hours. My file was misplaced and there was a small miscommunication regarding my treatment. A targeted treatment, Herceptin was introduced to the mix and I will continue to receive until next year. The first time, it is placed on a 90 minute drip to make sure there is no allergic reaction. There wasn't a reaction so I hope the next time, it won't take as long. The Herceptin can also play a number on your heart and I will continue having ECGs every 3-4 months.
Angela and Mirella accompanied me and God love them for sticking it out. It was a long day but we had a best of a time as we could in the chemo ward. Thank goodness I brought along plenty to eat for breakfast. By the time we left, we had gobbled up most of it. And as usual, when we are together we caught up on each other's lives and shared many laughs. At one point we laughed so loud, the man next to us shot 3 feet into the air.
The woman on the other side of my bed was receiving her first chemo treatment for breast cancer. Of course at this point, I'm a pro and prattled on about my experiences and any tips/tricks that worked for me. She left the hospital craving chicken wings.
Sarah told me that once you know how your body will react to Taxotere, you are better prepared to deal with the side effects and it becomes manageable. She was right. This time I started to take medication to deal with muscle/joint pain right away. I took Advil, Tylenol, Robaxacet and a stronger prescription drugs during the night. I believe I was "stoned" on Family Day. Being one to make the best of any situation, I wore a tie dyed Tshirt, played a little Jefferson Airplane and pretended I was at Woodstock.I believe the ghost of Jimi Hendrix visited me and set fire to his guitar on my coffee table.
I lost my sense of taste again, had the feeling of a film coating my mouth and lips swelled to the point that it looked like I had bad collagen injections but I wasn't plagued with mouth sores. Knowledge is power and I eliminated sauces, dressings and spicy foods and followed George's advice of drinking lots of club soda.
My last chemo is next Thursday and I can hardly wait!! I'm going to celebrate by inhaling a great big burger, surrounded by loved ones
My last chemo treatment was February 13th and it was the longest day at the hospital yet; 6 1/2 hours. My file was misplaced and there was a small miscommunication regarding my treatment. A targeted treatment, Herceptin was introduced to the mix and I will continue to receive until next year. The first time, it is placed on a 90 minute drip to make sure there is no allergic reaction. There wasn't a reaction so I hope the next time, it won't take as long. The Herceptin can also play a number on your heart and I will continue having ECGs every 3-4 months.
Angela and Mirella accompanied me and God love them for sticking it out. It was a long day but we had a best of a time as we could in the chemo ward. Thank goodness I brought along plenty to eat for breakfast. By the time we left, we had gobbled up most of it. And as usual, when we are together we caught up on each other's lives and shared many laughs. At one point we laughed so loud, the man next to us shot 3 feet into the air.
The woman on the other side of my bed was receiving her first chemo treatment for breast cancer. Of course at this point, I'm a pro and prattled on about my experiences and any tips/tricks that worked for me. She left the hospital craving chicken wings.
Sarah told me that once you know how your body will react to Taxotere, you are better prepared to deal with the side effects and it becomes manageable. She was right. This time I started to take medication to deal with muscle/joint pain right away. I took Advil, Tylenol, Robaxacet and a stronger prescription drugs during the night. I believe I was "stoned" on Family Day. Being one to make the best of any situation, I wore a tie dyed Tshirt, played a little Jefferson Airplane and pretended I was at Woodstock.I believe the ghost of Jimi Hendrix visited me and set fire to his guitar on my coffee table.
I lost my sense of taste again, had the feeling of a film coating my mouth and lips swelled to the point that it looked like I had bad collagen injections but I wasn't plagued with mouth sores. Knowledge is power and I eliminated sauces, dressings and spicy foods and followed George's advice of drinking lots of club soda.
My last chemo is next Thursday and I can hardly wait!! I'm going to celebrate by inhaling a great big burger, surrounded by loved ones
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