Well, once I got to sleep after taking a Tylenol for the sore joints, a heartburn tablet and an anti-nauseant I slept right through until eight this morning, time change and all! Not too much hot flashing last night. Maybe this wanes after the first few days? My helpful pharmacist poured me a tall glass of Gatorade and popped another anti-nauseant into me and I felt not too bad for the first time in 48 hours. Good enough to get up and make French toast and go for a walk in that amazing sunshine! Tromping through the two inches of fresh snow was fun, although my knees still ache and I can't believe I was jogging only 3 days ago. I feel like an old woman with "ginny joints".
As you can tell, the attitude has changed today. I have found a few more things that help settle my stomach like Jello and popsicles, ice cream and hummous. Then there are the things I should definitely avoid- spices, aspartame, metals. And raspberries? Maybe it's all in how you manage this? Whatever works is my new Motto, so I'm almost excited about dinner tonight. I'm planning on more cheese sauce, mashed potatoes and soft vegis with chicken. Comfort food.
Two more days to hit "bottom" on the road to the lowest point in the Immune system during the three week cycle. Then I have to be careful of infection, avoiding large groups of people, anyone with a cold and of course, any more raspberries! I'm not sure I'm ever going to be able to look at a raspberry the same way ever again.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Chemo Day Four
Today is Day Four with the Docetaxel and Cyclophosphemide floating around inside of me. I used to think food poisoning and alcohol poisoning the worst torments I could inflict on my body, but compared to this, having them both at the same time would seem easy.
I seem to be getting every symptom going. There is a thick coated feeling, almost a numbness inside of my mouth, which is labelled dry mouth. It makes me want to nibble and chew on the inside walls, which is probably why people get mouth sores. It's a metallic, salt taste, like I licked rust off someone's car. I have heartburn and achy knee joints, headaches and hot flashes so intense my hair gets soaked. Nothing tastes the way it should so you wander around trying to rid your mouth of that awful taste with things that just make it worse. My usual frozen raspberries were spit out along with the orange juice, the water, even chocolate! Go figure? There is a constant burn in the back of my throat and on top of it all, I feel like real crap. Like a big flu is coming down on top of my head. My stomach is in constant turmoil. I can't read, sit for a movie, write too long of a letter. I'm going to stop talking to people soon as I can't seem to say one single positive thing at the moment. And they say I have yet to hit bottom- that comes at day 7-10. OMG.
I managed to swim for 40 minutes yesterday but my resolve to exercise every single day flew right out the window this morning. I think I'm going to have to play this game by ear. Same for doing this the low-cal way. I had stocked the fridge with low fat, no fat, sugar free and within 4 days I have been to the grocery store twice to stock up on mashed potatoes, buttered toast, mushroom soup , cheese sauce, cheese ravioli and a gallon of milk. All in the name of trying to put the fire out. I was going to abstain from cow's milk and sugar for the three months. What do I know?! Why do I always figure I know what I am doing?
This is almost like an intervention. How else could the world prove to me that my head is so far up my ass. That maybe I need to change how I always look at things. I plan on it being one way and when its not, I am crushed and left floundering. Sort of like I'm feeling right now. Bewildered, worried about how much worse this can get and wondering how the hell people get through this? See, this is not the day to be blogging, but if you want to know the truth, the real truth, there it is. Everyone KNOWS chemo is crap but no-one ever tells you just how crappy chemo really is. And the worst of it is, I am going to get through this and then get stronger, all to just have to do it again and again and again.
It's at moments like this I have to make myself think of the multitude of children that have to go through this. Which makes me feel even worse.
And that's as long as I can sit for to write today. Thank goodness for everyone.
I seem to be getting every symptom going. There is a thick coated feeling, almost a numbness inside of my mouth, which is labelled dry mouth. It makes me want to nibble and chew on the inside walls, which is probably why people get mouth sores. It's a metallic, salt taste, like I licked rust off someone's car. I have heartburn and achy knee joints, headaches and hot flashes so intense my hair gets soaked. Nothing tastes the way it should so you wander around trying to rid your mouth of that awful taste with things that just make it worse. My usual frozen raspberries were spit out along with the orange juice, the water, even chocolate! Go figure? There is a constant burn in the back of my throat and on top of it all, I feel like real crap. Like a big flu is coming down on top of my head. My stomach is in constant turmoil. I can't read, sit for a movie, write too long of a letter. I'm going to stop talking to people soon as I can't seem to say one single positive thing at the moment. And they say I have yet to hit bottom- that comes at day 7-10. OMG.
I managed to swim for 40 minutes yesterday but my resolve to exercise every single day flew right out the window this morning. I think I'm going to have to play this game by ear. Same for doing this the low-cal way. I had stocked the fridge with low fat, no fat, sugar free and within 4 days I have been to the grocery store twice to stock up on mashed potatoes, buttered toast, mushroom soup , cheese sauce, cheese ravioli and a gallon of milk. All in the name of trying to put the fire out. I was going to abstain from cow's milk and sugar for the three months. What do I know?! Why do I always figure I know what I am doing?
This is almost like an intervention. How else could the world prove to me that my head is so far up my ass. That maybe I need to change how I always look at things. I plan on it being one way and when its not, I am crushed and left floundering. Sort of like I'm feeling right now. Bewildered, worried about how much worse this can get and wondering how the hell people get through this? See, this is not the day to be blogging, but if you want to know the truth, the real truth, there it is. Everyone KNOWS chemo is crap but no-one ever tells you just how crappy chemo really is. And the worst of it is, I am going to get through this and then get stronger, all to just have to do it again and again and again.
It's at moments like this I have to make myself think of the multitude of children that have to go through this. Which makes me feel even worse.
And that's as long as I can sit for to write today. Thank goodness for everyone.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
The Chemo Is In- Day One and Two
Another hurdle has been passed and I amazingly did not fall flat on my face like the nightmares predicted. Yesterday began with my girlfriend Sharon, who is also a nurse, getting us to the hospital and up to the new cancer clinic unit on the second floor. We trundle in with bags of food, spare clothes, the stack of information sheets and books and pills, Homer (Mom and Kim's bear) in his carry satchel, purses and coats and even a rose in a vase in tow. (All carried with my one good arm to avoid lymphedema, of course! And Sharon had all but one swinging from her teeth! Look out, we're moving in!) My mad dash to the washroom produced only a nervous dribble- the last time that would be an issue once starting the two litres of recommended water a day. You need that much just to wash down the fistful of vitamins and supplements pills I'm on.
The Chemo Chair (duh, duh, de, duh) pulls back Easy Boy style and a beautiful heated quilt was placed around me. Two Ativan popped under my tongue...calm...calm...WHAT, the Chemo drugs have arrived from down the hall? Already?...calm...calm ...is that Mozart playing in the background. Look, I can see the ski hill from here and there's fresh snow on the runs!
Getting the needle placed properly into a vein finally had the skillful rock, Alice, flustered. Alice is such a dear, always thinking of everything before you do, of really understanding what you must be feeling. Always getting it right and if not doing everything she can to get it that way. Her hand had a noticeable tremor after the first ten minutes before calling the other nurse over. I guess I shouldn't have told a friend's story about an improper placement causing scarring and pain while this was going on. Loretta must have been listening because it took her a few tries as well. NO worries I assure everyone. Dr. B in Terrace had already won the Grimace Award for that pre-surgical wire placement. For that much pain, you should receive a baby or better, a (quiet) golden egg for the effort. Aw, Buckle up Deb. Old Age Ain't No Place For Sissies! And I bet I'll have to say it again. And again before life is over.
My dear friend Dr. Sandi arrives fresh from an overnight shift downstairs at Emerg. She' s propped up on coffee and admits she managed a few winks between calls, so she stays and we're all laughing and Sharon is fussing with my blankets and the drip is started. The moment comes, a tear looms large and then I look away and it is all fine. I do not feel anything. I imagined a big surge of Drano-like stinging or burning or instant metal drip down my throat. But there is nothing so we return to laughing and chatting. I am doing this. The ninety minutes pass so fast I am amazed and Alice returns to flush the vein with saline before connecting the next drug. For this one I wear frozen mitts to help stop the flow of the drug into my hands. There is a chance of it affecting the nails to the point where they thicken, blacken and possibly fall off. The mitts, I am assured, work well. What about my feet, I worry- trying to keep them pointed up in the air and quickly ditching my warm shoes? Sandi explains why it's not as big a concern, but I'm still thinking of ice packs for them next visit. There is a trip to somewhere warm after all of this, I hope! It would be nice to have the nails intact if possible. I'm a big believer in practising prevention (well, at least after having two babies in as many years I try to be more proactive about it. Thank goodness that turned out to be SUCH a good thing! Okay, so maybe I'll start a blackened toenail craze?)
The other two chemo chairs are now filled with an elderly pair with cancers that make breast issues sound trivial. My four treatments barely make me feel legitimate stacked against their 20+. I am an impostor. A surface girl. Surrounded by friends, a rose, a stuffed bear. What planet am I even from? Good thing I left my tiara home with a last minute change of mind!
Before we know it, it's over. Three hours and I was even fed a hospital meal of soup, hamburger noodle entree and peaches in water. No time to run the movie with all the questions and talking and eating and drinking. Which meant no time to get nervous- even another friend Jen dropped by- thank you Ladies! Total distraction. They know me so well! I made it through. The next three are going to be a breeze. Maybe I'll let Barry come after all.
Sandi went home to sleep and Sharon and I went shopping. What? We were in Smithers with the Christmas season looming. Top picks move fast in the few stores that we have so if you need selection, a post chemo visit will have to work. I did bump into quite a few displays and counters, but luckily didn't have to buy anything I didn't need. I made it for another hour before being whisked home, snoring all the way. Sharon and I hugged and parted ways. I made it to the couch where I slept until 9:50 pm when I awoke wondering which end was up. Is it morning, night, do I need to take a pill for anything? A little heartburn, headache, a dryness at the back of my throat so I downed a half T-3 and all was good. The Chemo is in and its staying in, as in not coming out rather quickly from one orifice or another as again the nightmares predicted. Mind you, today is only the start of Day Two. "Give it a chance to start working" I'm told. (As I write this I am enveloped in about the seventh hot flash I forgot to mention has been happening since taking the pre-chemo steroidal anti-inflammatory) At least the hair roots are holding. I check them on the hour!
The Chemo Chair (duh, duh, de, duh) pulls back Easy Boy style and a beautiful heated quilt was placed around me. Two Ativan popped under my tongue...calm...calm...WHAT, the Chemo drugs have arrived from down the hall? Already?...calm...calm ...is that Mozart playing in the background. Look, I can see the ski hill from here and there's fresh snow on the runs!
Getting the needle placed properly into a vein finally had the skillful rock, Alice, flustered. Alice is such a dear, always thinking of everything before you do, of really understanding what you must be feeling. Always getting it right and if not doing everything she can to get it that way. Her hand had a noticeable tremor after the first ten minutes before calling the other nurse over. I guess I shouldn't have told a friend's story about an improper placement causing scarring and pain while this was going on. Loretta must have been listening because it took her a few tries as well. NO worries I assure everyone. Dr. B in Terrace had already won the Grimace Award for that pre-surgical wire placement. For that much pain, you should receive a baby or better, a (quiet) golden egg for the effort. Aw, Buckle up Deb. Old Age Ain't No Place For Sissies! And I bet I'll have to say it again. And again before life is over.
My dear friend Dr. Sandi arrives fresh from an overnight shift downstairs at Emerg. She' s propped up on coffee and admits she managed a few winks between calls, so she stays and we're all laughing and Sharon is fussing with my blankets and the drip is started. The moment comes, a tear looms large and then I look away and it is all fine. I do not feel anything. I imagined a big surge of Drano-like stinging or burning or instant metal drip down my throat. But there is nothing so we return to laughing and chatting. I am doing this. The ninety minutes pass so fast I am amazed and Alice returns to flush the vein with saline before connecting the next drug. For this one I wear frozen mitts to help stop the flow of the drug into my hands. There is a chance of it affecting the nails to the point where they thicken, blacken and possibly fall off. The mitts, I am assured, work well. What about my feet, I worry- trying to keep them pointed up in the air and quickly ditching my warm shoes? Sandi explains why it's not as big a concern, but I'm still thinking of ice packs for them next visit. There is a trip to somewhere warm after all of this, I hope! It would be nice to have the nails intact if possible. I'm a big believer in practising prevention (well, at least after having two babies in as many years I try to be more proactive about it. Thank goodness that turned out to be SUCH a good thing! Okay, so maybe I'll start a blackened toenail craze?)
The other two chemo chairs are now filled with an elderly pair with cancers that make breast issues sound trivial. My four treatments barely make me feel legitimate stacked against their 20+. I am an impostor. A surface girl. Surrounded by friends, a rose, a stuffed bear. What planet am I even from? Good thing I left my tiara home with a last minute change of mind!
Before we know it, it's over. Three hours and I was even fed a hospital meal of soup, hamburger noodle entree and peaches in water. No time to run the movie with all the questions and talking and eating and drinking. Which meant no time to get nervous- even another friend Jen dropped by- thank you Ladies! Total distraction. They know me so well! I made it through. The next three are going to be a breeze. Maybe I'll let Barry come after all.
Sandi went home to sleep and Sharon and I went shopping. What? We were in Smithers with the Christmas season looming. Top picks move fast in the few stores that we have so if you need selection, a post chemo visit will have to work. I did bump into quite a few displays and counters, but luckily didn't have to buy anything I didn't need. I made it for another hour before being whisked home, snoring all the way. Sharon and I hugged and parted ways. I made it to the couch where I slept until 9:50 pm when I awoke wondering which end was up. Is it morning, night, do I need to take a pill for anything? A little heartburn, headache, a dryness at the back of my throat so I downed a half T-3 and all was good. The Chemo is in and its staying in, as in not coming out rather quickly from one orifice or another as again the nightmares predicted. Mind you, today is only the start of Day Two. "Give it a chance to start working" I'm told. (As I write this I am enveloped in about the seventh hot flash I forgot to mention has been happening since taking the pre-chemo steroidal anti-inflammatory) At least the hair roots are holding. I check them on the hour!
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Prepping For C Day
And eye-opening it was! Other than my head not spinning a full 360 degrees Linda Blair style, I can expect some pretty dastardly side effects from the chemo I will be taking. By the time the nurse got to the part about my nails possibly starting to thicken, blacken and fall off I was in stitches laughing. "Where do you people get this stuff?" I asked. I mean, what else could there possibly be left out that WON'T be a side effect to all of this?
Well, to HELL with the old mantra of acceptance and welcoming. My new one will be THIS IS ALL TEMPORARY. Someday it will be a distant bad memory that I can turn off at the whim of my short attention span. "Look- a dead bird flying!" Really? Where? As easy as that.
Talking with the Naturopath was interesting as I was bogged down with pages of puzzling notes from books and the Internet on what to buy and what would or would not interact with different drugs. I was so confused. Knowing my drug protocol, DR. N (after getting my Visa number) worked out a schedule of natural remedies that will help protect some vital organs, reduce the long-term ill effects and aid the chemo to do it's search and destruction of the cancer. Sounds good to me! Those remedies include natural fish oils (anchovy and sardine), Vitamin B complex, L-Glutamine, CoQ10 and astragulus (I have NO idea). Then there's the 5000UI of Vitamin D, the multi-vites three times a day, the multiple anti-nauseants and the 8 large glasses of water. I'll need that much to wash down all of these capsules. I agreed with the need for a low glycemic diet. Sugar IS the enemy. But the Dr. meant ALL sugar, excepting Stivia, sugar alcohols and Sucralose. But I have a DQ gift certificate still? Okay, okay, I get it, sugar feeds the cancer cells. But wait. The chemo is going to wipe out any new cancer cells and so until Wednesday comes, I am on a new Debi Prescribed diet. Someone pass me a corkscrew and the sugar bowl!
No complaints. It's all part of the regime. My nurse tells me I will be given a calming little pill called Adivan (yes, we're old friends. The dentist makes me take one before any drilling so that I won't bite anymore) upon arrival. I think I might need to take it before I sit in THAT chair. For some reason I have parallelled it to an Electric Chair, which, if the chemo skips or blows out a vein, it might very well become.
BUT, never mind all THAT! WHAT the heck am I going to wear? Too casual is just not me especially for such an important occasion. I was thinking my 50th birthday tiara to celebrate the fact I still have hair to wear it on, together with an evening gown, but that might be overkill. Not polyester in case I get a chill, but then wait. I might get hot flashes they said, so poly would be nice. NOTE: wear the good bra in case I get WAY too hot, too fast. And Big Girl panties of course. Don't forget them!
Maybe the chance to try topless table dancing, that I have been kidding about since acquiring all these long pink surgical lines, is NOT over. I'll have to ask the nurse if they have a sturdy enough table.
Countdown to C Day...Three. Really, I mean it. Where is the corkscrew?
Well, to HELL with the old mantra of acceptance and welcoming. My new one will be THIS IS ALL TEMPORARY. Someday it will be a distant bad memory that I can turn off at the whim of my short attention span. "Look- a dead bird flying!" Really? Where? As easy as that.
Talking with the Naturopath was interesting as I was bogged down with pages of puzzling notes from books and the Internet on what to buy and what would or would not interact with different drugs. I was so confused. Knowing my drug protocol, DR. N (after getting my Visa number) worked out a schedule of natural remedies that will help protect some vital organs, reduce the long-term ill effects and aid the chemo to do it's search and destruction of the cancer. Sounds good to me! Those remedies include natural fish oils (anchovy and sardine), Vitamin B complex, L-Glutamine, CoQ10 and astragulus (I have NO idea). Then there's the 5000UI of Vitamin D, the multi-vites three times a day, the multiple anti-nauseants and the 8 large glasses of water. I'll need that much to wash down all of these capsules. I agreed with the need for a low glycemic diet. Sugar IS the enemy. But the Dr. meant ALL sugar, excepting Stivia, sugar alcohols and Sucralose. But I have a DQ gift certificate still? Okay, okay, I get it, sugar feeds the cancer cells. But wait. The chemo is going to wipe out any new cancer cells and so until Wednesday comes, I am on a new Debi Prescribed diet. Someone pass me a corkscrew and the sugar bowl!
No complaints. It's all part of the regime. My nurse tells me I will be given a calming little pill called Adivan (yes, we're old friends. The dentist makes me take one before any drilling so that I won't bite anymore) upon arrival. I think I might need to take it before I sit in THAT chair. For some reason I have parallelled it to an Electric Chair, which, if the chemo skips or blows out a vein, it might very well become.
BUT, never mind all THAT! WHAT the heck am I going to wear? Too casual is just not me especially for such an important occasion. I was thinking my 50th birthday tiara to celebrate the fact I still have hair to wear it on, together with an evening gown, but that might be overkill. Not polyester in case I get a chill, but then wait. I might get hot flashes they said, so poly would be nice. NOTE: wear the good bra in case I get WAY too hot, too fast. And Big Girl panties of course. Don't forget them!
Maybe the chance to try topless table dancing, that I have been kidding about since acquiring all these long pink surgical lines, is NOT over. I'll have to ask the nurse if they have a sturdy enough table.
Countdown to C Day...Three. Really, I mean it. Where is the corkscrew?
Monday, October 25, 2010
Chemo Me Tickled
October 22: I had some pretty impressive support. My husband Barry, my regular Dr. V as well as Dr. B from the Smithers Cancer Unit sat with me in front of a television set listening to what the Kelowna Oncologist had to say. She began by recounting the events up to date before asking me multiple health history questions, including cancer in the family, childbirth info and how much DID I smoke way back when? She then said because breast cancer does not run in my family, because it was a micro metastasis as in below the standard size to be listed as an N2 (a cancerous lymph node and an automatic sentence to chemo) that it would be up to me to choose whether or not to go forward with the chemo, or head straight to Kelowna for the radiation therapy.
It was "the Pass" I had prayed for. The sliver of hope of not having to subject my body to such vile toxins- of getting sick almost to death, possibly destroying bone marrow, of losing my hair (ALL my body hair...OMG!), getting infections.
So...why wasn't I dancing the touchdown Rhomba? It's because even after I said, no, I don't want to hear them, my team asked to hear the numbers. The percentages we were dealing with. And the Chemo upped my survival rate and my chance of avoiding a recurrence. It would also give me more piece of mind knowing I had done everything possible to stomp out any lingering wisp of cancer cells even toying with the idea of starting any more trouble.
When I still hesitated, Dr. B asked Barry. Was I the type to to live easily with taking chances or would I forever worry I had made the right choice to skip out of the harder path. He didn't even pause. Worry wart! Yes, I had to agree for a change. I would be an absolute rubber room candidate if I didn't allow my brain to talk me into doing this to myself.
Before the conference ended, I made the decision. A winter without hair it would be. All I want now for Christmas are some bangs. And a Porsche. And a grandchild ( a quiet one-ha!). (Might as well have a few pipe dreams if you're going to bother with any!)
Now it's FULL STEAM AHEAD! ANCHORS AWAY! Let's get this SHOW ON THE ROAD!
My next appointment is Wednesday for blood work and an eye-opening discussion with the Oncology nurse of exactly what will be happening, right down to what to and not to eat on the Day of a treatment. That's four treatments spread three weeks apart. Twelve weeks, three months. I can do this! Easy. I've gone without chocolate that long. Probably tougher, but I did it.
I have the name of a Naturalist in Victoria who will advise me on the right vitamins and concoctions to fortify my body with. The armour to protect my good things while aiding the chemicals to stomp out and destroy the bad things. The helmet and army boots to kick some serious cancer butt! It's going to be a massacre, but I'm going to come out of this on top. Of that, I am pretty certain. Mostly.Some.
Let's DO IT!
I do know it's important to be mentally prepared as well. I need to convince myself to overcome the fear of all the horrible things I have seen in movies and read in books about what chemo used to be like. Today, I remind myself, there are amazing anti-nauseants and things to control other things like diarrhea and mouth sores. I have to be okay with whatever comes my way, to welcome them because they are necessary for the outcome to be what we want. So I have been working on a new mantra.
I asked for these drugs because I believe in them.
Okay, so I am not quite there yet. Repeating this still makes my eyes get all blurry. Maybe if I eat chocolate while I say it. Now we're talking. This is going to a piece of cake, chocolate cake to be precise!
It was "the Pass" I had prayed for. The sliver of hope of not having to subject my body to such vile toxins- of getting sick almost to death, possibly destroying bone marrow, of losing my hair (ALL my body hair...OMG!), getting infections.
So...why wasn't I dancing the touchdown Rhomba? It's because even after I said, no, I don't want to hear them, my team asked to hear the numbers. The percentages we were dealing with. And the Chemo upped my survival rate and my chance of avoiding a recurrence. It would also give me more piece of mind knowing I had done everything possible to stomp out any lingering wisp of cancer cells even toying with the idea of starting any more trouble.
When I still hesitated, Dr. B asked Barry. Was I the type to to live easily with taking chances or would I forever worry I had made the right choice to skip out of the harder path. He didn't even pause. Worry wart! Yes, I had to agree for a change. I would be an absolute rubber room candidate if I didn't allow my brain to talk me into doing this to myself.
Before the conference ended, I made the decision. A winter without hair it would be. All I want now for Christmas are some bangs. And a Porsche. And a grandchild ( a quiet one-ha!). (Might as well have a few pipe dreams if you're going to bother with any!)
Now it's FULL STEAM AHEAD! ANCHORS AWAY! Let's get this SHOW ON THE ROAD!
My next appointment is Wednesday for blood work and an eye-opening discussion with the Oncology nurse of exactly what will be happening, right down to what to and not to eat on the Day of a treatment. That's four treatments spread three weeks apart. Twelve weeks, three months. I can do this! Easy. I've gone without chocolate that long. Probably tougher, but I did it.
I have the name of a Naturalist in Victoria who will advise me on the right vitamins and concoctions to fortify my body with. The armour to protect my good things while aiding the chemicals to stomp out and destroy the bad things. The helmet and army boots to kick some serious cancer butt! It's going to be a massacre, but I'm going to come out of this on top. Of that, I am pretty certain. Mostly.Some.
Let's DO IT!
I do know it's important to be mentally prepared as well. I need to convince myself to overcome the fear of all the horrible things I have seen in movies and read in books about what chemo used to be like. Today, I remind myself, there are amazing anti-nauseants and things to control other things like diarrhea and mouth sores. I have to be okay with whatever comes my way, to welcome them because they are necessary for the outcome to be what we want. So I have been working on a new mantra.
I asked for these drugs because I believe in them.
Okay, so I am not quite there yet. Repeating this still makes my eyes get all blurry. Maybe if I eat chocolate while I say it. Now we're talking. This is going to a piece of cake, chocolate cake to be precise!
Friday, October 15, 2010
Next Treatment Please!
Some days it's like being inside a slowly digesting boa constrictor- this cancer adventure I'm starring in. First the delay of the MRI results, then the long wait to get in for a biopsy, then the Big C verdict, surgery, then a second surgery and all the healing in between. But today we finally got a gift back. A possible Karmatic reward for our patience? The Kelowna Oncology dept has given the thumbs up for a video consult (after saying it could not be done) which saves us a 22 hour return drive to talk with a cancer specialist! If I'm sentenced to chemo, I can have it here in Smithers before making our way to Kelowna for the radiation. If there's no chemo, I have an appointment already booked on November 3rd in Kelowna with the radiologist, so there won't be much of a wait to get that going either. What a relief!
But by far, the best news is that somewhere in the shuffle, the Oncology consult date changed from Nov. 2 to October 22!Someone managed to save me eleven days of restless anxiety and downright childish moping. We are soon going to know what comes next, how long I will be doing it for and what will happen when I'm doing it. I will be able to map and plan some things for a change. Sort of like normal people do, once again.
The only thing better than this is winning money-I swear. It's that good.
My life has SO changed!
But by far, the best news is that somewhere in the shuffle, the Oncology consult date changed from Nov. 2 to October 22!Someone managed to save me eleven days of restless anxiety and downright childish moping. We are soon going to know what comes next, how long I will be doing it for and what will happen when I'm doing it. I will be able to map and plan some things for a change. Sort of like normal people do, once again.
The only thing better than this is winning money-I swear. It's that good.
My life has SO changed!
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Four Weeks Post Surgery
Yes, it's been 4 weeks today, October 12, 2010 since going under the knife for the second time. My arm is working fairly well but I still suffer occasional sharp pains through the right breast and sleeping is one giant toss-and-turn affair trying to find something comfortable. The liquid, squishing sound has ended and it feels more solid although I still find it uncomfortable to bounce, skip or run, even if clinching it vice-wise in a hand grip
It's getting harder to use the couch excuse. Today, after a day up and running, I was flattened and wincing by four o'clock. Still need to use my good arm for the bulk of what I do. At this stage I consider myself ambidextrous for everything except writing. Still no weight lifting on the right side. It tires and begins to hurt quickly. I do my physio exercises that were listed in the book given to me before the first surgery. But I have resumed a lot of the household chores. I can fold the towels again, wash dishes, make a meal, I even washed the floor using my new Norwex one-handed mop. Pretty easy and I'm assured it leaves the floors 99.9% germ free just using water.
I did get dates to "see" the oncologist Nov. 2 and the radiologist Nov 3. Both these people are in Kelowna and so we are hoping the appointments are for video conferencing through the Smithers hospital. No sense travelling 1200 kms twice as I'll eventually have to get there to take the radiation. It's frustrating as my 6 week post surgery date ends October 26, so again, an extra week of sitting and waiting. Then a consult, then another week to wait for it all to be set up. I should have taken up knitting. I could have opened a store by now to sell everything I had time to make the past 5 months.
I guess I am going to have to try forcing myself back into the writing saddle. This being in limbo is taking far too long and I wanted to have these books into the hands of an agent or publisher while I was still 50. That only gives me two and a half months left. Although I'm now getting out of the house much more often which means less time to work on anything. But hey, let's heap the pressure on. That's what I need at the moment. More stress. Which means more chocolate, of course.
It's not all bad!
It's getting harder to use the couch excuse. Today, after a day up and running, I was flattened and wincing by four o'clock. Still need to use my good arm for the bulk of what I do. At this stage I consider myself ambidextrous for everything except writing. Still no weight lifting on the right side. It tires and begins to hurt quickly. I do my physio exercises that were listed in the book given to me before the first surgery. But I have resumed a lot of the household chores. I can fold the towels again, wash dishes, make a meal, I even washed the floor using my new Norwex one-handed mop. Pretty easy and I'm assured it leaves the floors 99.9% germ free just using water.
I did get dates to "see" the oncologist Nov. 2 and the radiologist Nov 3. Both these people are in Kelowna and so we are hoping the appointments are for video conferencing through the Smithers hospital. No sense travelling 1200 kms twice as I'll eventually have to get there to take the radiation. It's frustrating as my 6 week post surgery date ends October 26, so again, an extra week of sitting and waiting. Then a consult, then another week to wait for it all to be set up. I should have taken up knitting. I could have opened a store by now to sell everything I had time to make the past 5 months.
I guess I am going to have to try forcing myself back into the writing saddle. This being in limbo is taking far too long and I wanted to have these books into the hands of an agent or publisher while I was still 50. That only gives me two and a half months left. Although I'm now getting out of the house much more often which means less time to work on anything. But hey, let's heap the pressure on. That's what I need at the moment. More stress. Which means more chocolate, of course.
It's not all bad!
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