1826 Pills

I had a follow-up with my oncologist today.  I was glad to have an appointment with a doctor, as weird as that sounds.  I feel like I spent all summer fighting cancer.  As soon as radiation was done, I started doing...nothing.  I feel like I've just stopped fighting it, and that makes me very uneasy.  I told her that, and she said that it is a very common feeling, and that I had to trust that we've done it.  Easier said than done.

I asked if she would please do a blood draw to make sure my whites had gotten back to normal levels.  I'm pretty sure they are, since I've had two colds and gotten rid of them both within three days, but I want to be sure.  She was very nice about it and told me that they would be happy to.  That means that I got to see Marie!  She's my favorite chemo nurse!  It was awesome to see her while feeling good, instead of in a chemo-induced stupor.  I'll get the results of the blood tests tomorrow.  ::fingers crossed::

I was also given the prescription for Tamoxifen.  Because my cancer was the type that feeds on estrogen, this is a medication that decreases the estrogen in my body.  I will take one pill per day for 5 years.  1825 pills.  Wait.  There is a leap-year in there.  1826 pills.  I hope that the side effects are minimal.

There is a chance, if I was perimenopausal, that this drug will push me into menopause.  Because of the "chemopause," (fake menopause brought on by chemotherapy,) I won't know for a while if this is the case.  Oh goodie.  More unknowns.  I do know that I'm sick of hot flashes and the most common side effect of Tamoxifen is hot flashes.  *sigh*

She was happy with my progress, and I am to go back and see her in three months.  After that, I'll likely see her every six months for the next five years.  I wish someone would do blood work or a scan and say, "Yes! You are cancer free!" but that isn't going to happen.  I just have to trust that it's gone.  I have to trust the doctors.  I have to trust the medication.  I have to trust the treatments.  I have to trust God.

I'm working on it.

Starting the Second Half

You know how, when you're watching a football game (I picture a high-school game here in our little town,) the team  heads to the locker room at half time?  If they have a rough first half, I imagine the coach tells them to pull it together and talks to them about the best way to turn it around.

If the team is winning when halftime gets here, they head to the locker room and talk about their strengths, how well they're doing, and how to keep the momentum rolling.  Of course, I've never been in a locker room during half-time of a football game, but this is what I expect.

Today, I start my "second half."  My body played a first half until the last couple of downs.  I had it pretty easy, looking like the star quarterback as I went through my first three treatments.  For my fourth treatment, though, cancer's team introduced some new players.  Big dudes from out of town.

My whites took a beating, leaving me in the hospital for three days.  My reds hit bottom, causing me to need a unit of blood.  I could do nothing more than come home from work and go straight to bed for over a week.  If my family wanted/needed something, they knew to come to my room.  It was a very depressing time.  Back to my football analogy, I was taking a beating and starting to feel like there was no way I could finish this game.

My whites bounced back over the weekend, though, and I felt better yesterday after receiving that unit of blood.  It's halftime, and I'm getting ready to start the second half.  Today is my first infusion of Taxol.  Most people who have had the Adriamycin/Cytoxan combo, and then had Taxol say that Taxol is the easier of the two.  I'm counting on that.  The coach is telling me that I'll get through this half with no problems, coming out the victor.

No matter what, the bell signalling the end of the game will ring on September 20.  Sure, I'll probably still need radiation, but chemo, as well as the assault on my white blood cells, will be over.  It feels good to say I'm halfway done.  Queue up the marching band and you guys go hit the concession stand and get a hot dog and a soda.  It's time for me to take the field for the second half.

A Visit to the Doctor

I had a visit with my oncologist today.  I've never been so excited for a doctor's appointment in my life.  That's kinda sad, but I couldn't wait to talk to her.  She was impressed by my overall lack of side effects (nausea, etc) and I was happy to see that I'd lost 8 lbs in the past two weeks.  Another benefit!  She was also more than ready to help find a solution to the headaches.

She believes that the problem is a combination of lack of sleep and the steroids.  (Mom was half right!)  I asked if it could truly be the steroids, since I haven't taken one in 10 days.  She assured me that it could be.  What's weird, is that I didn't have the headache when I was taking them.  It came later.  That's why she thinks it's in combination with a cumulative lack of sleep.

Her solution was to cut my steroids in half for this round, and she prescribed Ambien.  I get steroids in my IV before chemo, and then take the pills for the following three days.  Instead of two tablets twice a day, I'll be taking one tablet twice a day.  I really, REALLY need this to work, so I've decided that it's going to.

Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.  I will be at the plastic surgeon's office for a tissue expander fill at 9:00 in the morning, and then back to this side of the state line for my infusion at 11:00.  Because they drew blood while I was there today (my whites are up, by the way,) it will speed things up for tomorrow.  No waiting for the lab to get the results sent upstairs.

On Thursday, I hope to get a full 8 hours in, and then I have my Neulasta shot at 4 pm.  Chemo weeks are SO busy, but it should make it go by quickly.  Also, after tomorrow, I can say that I'm halfway done with the A/C portion of my chemo.  That's 1/4 of the way done with chemo!  Positive thoughts.  Positive thoughts.  Positive thoughts.  Doritos.  Hey!  How'd THAT get in there?  Oh well.

So Much for 40 Hours

This is the week I was going to work 40 hours.  All I had to do today was seven hours and 45 minutes.  No biggie.  I've felt fine most of this week, and I got in early, so it should have been smooth sailing.  Should have been.

About an hour in, my nose just started gushing blood with no warning.  Well, what an interesting development.  And I was glad I had a spare shirt in my car.  It took over ten minutes to get it to stop, and the whole time I was thinking, "I think this is on the list."   There is a list of side effects that, if they  happen, I am to call any time, day or night.  When I finally got it stopped, I checked the list.

Yup.  It's on the list.  I didn't call right away, though.  I knew the office would be open in less than an hour, and it had stopped bleeding, so I waited until the office opened at eight and called.  I had to leave a message, but I got a call back in under five minutes.  The told me to come in for a blood draw.  I may need a platelet transfusion.  Shit.

They flushed my port, drew the blood, and left the port accessed, just in case they needed to do something, and then the wait started.  The nurse, whom I love, told me they'd put a "stat request" on the blood work with the lab.  I had electronics to entertain me, so I was fine.  After 30 minutes, I heard her ripping into someone in the lab.  It was funny.  She is grandmotherly and sweet and it was funny to hear that side of her.,

After 45 minutes, the results came back and she said all was OK.  I went back to work, knowing I could still get that 40 hours I was seeking.  I worked about an hour and a half and started feeling kinda crummy.  My headache was a bit worse, and then my face felt hot.  I checked my temp and it was 99, so I decided that it wasn't in the cards to get 40 hours this week.  I left at the 38 hour mark.

Now I'm home, in the recliner again, and just tired.  I hope I feel better for the weekend, since this process starts all over again on Wednesday.  I am relieved to know that my blood counts are in an acceptable range. That will make me feel better if any other weirdness pops up this weekend.

(Just so there is no confusion, nobody but me is pushing for 40 hours.  My employer is being amazing about letting me work whatever I can, and Kevin can't believe I'm getting in the number of hours that I am.  I just want to do 40 on the off week, since I'll always be short on the chemo weeks.)

Chemo Treatment Number One

Disclaimers:

• This is a freaking LONG post.  A lot of people wanted details, and boy oh boy did I give details.  You won't hurt my feelings if you bail early.
• There is a TINY amount of blood showing in my port access tube in one shot.  TINY.  However, you blood wussies have been warned.
• There is a shot of a HUGE syringe full of one of my chemo meds that just happens to be red.  I promise you, I would NOT spring a picture of that much blood on you, after warning you about the tiny bit in the other shot.
• My "cleavage" shows, but it's mostly shirt and post-mastectomy sports bra, so don't get your hopes up, pervs.  Takes all the fun out of it, doesn't it?
• These images will not show up on FB.  Not because I don't want to show them there, but because I don't want to type captions.  I'll link to this post there, though.

Today was the day.  I woke up and decided I wasn't going to go through with it, but Kevin made me get up and shower, so we went.  Once again, I was having a major panic attack this morning, and I'm pretty sure Kevin was having a minor one at the same time.  I had forgotten to pack a "chemo bag," so I worked on that this morning.  It was good to have something to occupy my time until we left at 8:30.

At 9, I was to put the numbing cream on my port and cover it with a square of plastic wrap, so I did that in the truck.  LOL  From now on, I'm driving myself to and from treatment, so I may have to rethink that plan, huh?  We got there, and I made 17 trips to the bathroom.  First of all, I'm supposed to push water.  A LOT of water.  I hate water, but I do what doctors tell me to do.  The nerves probably didn't help that situation much, either.

As with all nerves brought on by a new medical experience, I was perfectly fine as soon as the doctor walked in.  She asked questions, made sure to find out if we had any (we had a few, and she answered them to our satisfaction.)  Everything looked good, so she announced that I'd be staying for chemo.  Good.  Another wait may have pushed me over the edge.

I think part of it is the fact that I don't get sick.  I don't take pills.  I don't go to hospitals.  Heck, I don't even get headaches (until lately.)  I've gone from that to this horrible disease that requires horrible treatment which causes horrible side effects.  I guess I don't do anything halfway.  This is my new daily life:

No.  I do NOT take all of those every day.  However, I must travel with most of them.  When I walk into work, my bag sounds like I'm hauling in maracas!  (Mental note: Suggest mariachi Mondays at work tomorrow.)  Anyway, although most of the above are  "as needed," I sometimes need them.  So far, I haven't needed prescription pain medication more than 1-2 times a week at most.  I just don't know what my side effects will deem necessary.

OK, enough of the downer!  My first chemo day was fine.  Parts were actually fun and funny, thanks to an amazing husband making inappropriate jokes and an amazing nurse who explained everything so well that it kept me at ease.  Thanks to the numbing cream, I didn't even know when she accessed my port.  These things were on the cabinet, waiting for me:

The two small vials are for blood draws to check my levels and make sure I'm OK for chemo.  Because they had to wait for the lab to get back to them with the results, Marie (the nurse) asked if we'd like to go downstairs and get something to eat.  That sounded like an amazing plan, except that I had the tubes hanging from my port, waiting for chemo.  She said, "Just drop that down your shirt and go on down."  You can't tell me that, and not expect me to have fun with it:

If it wasn't funny enough that I stuffed it in my bra in my cleavage, we got a real good laugh of the fact that I only have HALF of what you could call cleavage.  The other side was PURCHASED by me, so I guess it's mine, as the implant will be.  So yeah, we'll say cleavage.  LOL  We went on our adventure downstairs to the hospital cafe, and had a really great lunch for under $10 total for the two of us!  (Tight Wad.  Party of two.)

When we got back, it was time to get going.  She hung a bag of (I think) saline, and a small bag of non chemo drugs.  I don't remember what all of them were for, but at least one was for nausea and one was a steroid.  Here is my little starter pack:

At this point, the meds were almost gone.  After each infusion is complete, more of the fluid is injected to "flush" the port.  That's why the large bag.  I didn't even use half of it by the time I left, though.  Then, it was time to get started on the poison chemo.  The Adriamycin is given with two large syringes so they can keep a super close eye on it.  They alternate a few CCs of it and a bit of saline.  I told her I was worried her hand would cramp.  LOL  I'm showing it below, but the drug is red.  That is NOT blood!

When that was done and the port was flushed, it was time for the Cytoxan.  It can hang on the IV pole, so Marie got to rest her hands.  Actually, she was probably in another room doing the same thing for someone else.  Poor thing.  Here I am while finishing up.  Yes, the room was small:

I was playing online.  If you know me well, and have been to my house or followed any images of me, you may be having a nagging feeling that this looks VERY familiar to you.  I can explain that.  I had Natalie take a pictures of me while doing this blog post:

Take away the blanket (we turned our ac off last night) and the IV pole, and I was at home!  Oh, the blanket!  That is ONE thing I forgot to take, which is the only reason I regret not packing my chemo bag earlier in the week.  One of my many distant friends who have sent me amazing packages (seriously, you guys BLOW me away...and kinda make me cry like a girl a little bit...I gotta work on that,) sent the following that she made for me, just for chemo treatments!

She explained her design in her very touching note.  "Zebra print, because you're so "wild & crazy"; pink hearts, because we love you."  It is DEFINITELY ready for my next appointment.  The blankets they have there sucked.  May as well give me a sheet.

Finally, if you made it this long without falling asleep or passing out (that last part was for the wussies,) I will give out a parting laugh.  As we exited the office after my visit was complete, we saw this in the hallway.  I think you can read it if you click on it:

Kevin said, very simply, "Hmmm.  I sure hope those boxes are empty."