I'm so done with medical issues! I had my annual ob-gyn appointment today. Just routine. Well, except that it is at last year's appointment that I talked to her about the lump, and it was at last years appointment that she ordered the mammogram that resulted in the biopsy that happened a year ago today. Yeah. Except for that.
My gynecologist's office is down the hall from the cancer center. This means that I entered the same building and took the same elevator to the same floor. I was fine this morning, but by the time I got to the office and signed in, I was nervous as heck. Stupid.
They called me back, I got changed into the gown, and I waited. Forever. When Dr. Finkle came in, she said, "So, how are you doing, really?" That's when I broke down crying. I'm so done. I'm done with appointments, I'm done with poking and prodding, and I'm done with questions. I love her dearly, and she's the reason that cancer didn't win. I'm not mad at her, I'm just down.
So we talked and she wants to have me try Effexor, which should alleviate the hot flashes and help with anxiety at the same time. I'm willing to try. I've been a nightmare to my family for a while now. Everyone that I know is on my last nerve. The common denominator is me. I hope it helps. But we didn't get to complete that conversation, because that's when she started my exam by looking at my legs.
"Your legs are SO swollen? How long have they been like that? Why didn't you say anything?" Umm, because it's no biggie to me compared to cancer? Because I'm fat and I figured that was to blame? Because I'm sick of reporting medical complications? I don't KNOW! She completed the exam and then looked at my legs again. She said I wasn't leaving until she decided what she was going to do.
After getting dressed, I opened the door. She met me at the door and said, "I've decided how we're handling this." It could be a blood clot, or a heart issue, or just fluid retention. She ordered an immediate ultrasound of my legs to rule out clots and I headed downstairs to complete that. My oncologist was not in the office, but she will call her and get me in sooner than my March 19th appointment. She will let my oncologist decide where to send me to rule out heart issues.
The ultrasound showed no clots. That was my biggest worry. Those can mean instant death. I have no blood clots. PHEW! I'll get a call tomorrow with information about what to do next. Damn. I'm SO sick of this stuff. I was in a funk before this, and now I have to concentrate on not letting it pull me down further. I have a great week ahead of me, and that's what I plan to concentrate on.
Showing posts with label sad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sad. Show all posts
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
It's a Date!
I have a date for surgery! May 23. I have a surgery date on May 23. I am ready for it to happen, and I'm glad to have a date. I'm freaking out a bit, but not for any particular reason. There have been many studies about PTSD after cancer. I don't claim that label, but I sure know where they are coming from. 90% of the time, I am fine. 10% of the time, I'm a basket case.
Anyway, I have surgery in Shawnee Mission, Kansas on May 23, and will be back to work the following week. Let's go. I'm tired of waiting. I keep chanting "May 23" because I'm happy to have a date. Between now and then, I have many appointments. There is one day in March that I have so many appointments that I had to take a vacation day!
Until May 23, I will just keep on keepin' on. Wake up, walk the treadmill, shower, go to work, come home, watch TV, go to bed...rinse, repeat. Just a few more months.
May 23.
Anyway, I have surgery in Shawnee Mission, Kansas on May 23, and will be back to work the following week. Let's go. I'm tired of waiting. I keep chanting "May 23" because I'm happy to have a date. Between now and then, I have many appointments. There is one day in March that I have so many appointments that I had to take a vacation day!
Until May 23, I will just keep on keepin' on. Wake up, walk the treadmill, shower, go to work, come home, watch TV, go to bed...rinse, repeat. Just a few more months.
May 23.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Home
They released me on Friday morning, and Kevin came to get me and bring me home. The only thing that really concerns me is that I have NO idea if my whites are still climbing. I just have to assume that they are. I am pretty much on lock-down for the weekend, avoiding public places and close contact.
Monday morning, I'll go back to work, still avoiding close contact until Tuesday's blood work gets drawn. I had accrued 28 hours of vacation time toward next year, and that will cover most of the 4 days I missed while in the hospital. I'm thankful that those were available, but a bit scared to have my safety net gone. This simply cannot happen again. No problem.
The worst part so far is that it seems that all of the side effects from early on are back. I have a nearly constant headache, I can't sleep, and I'm emotional as hell. I had a really bad headache last night, so I took what felt like enough pills to drop an elephant, and was back up at 1:30. *sigh* I had been sleeping fine for a couple of weeks (without pills) before this setback.
Basically, I think the quarantine has afforded me too much time to think. When I go to work tomorrow, I'll be busy, and that will help. My blood work is set for 3 in the afternoon on Tuesday, but I may see if I can go early so I can wait for the results. If my whites aren't back in the normal range of 4.0 - 11.0, I have to cancel my plastic surgeon's appointment and my chemo on Thursday will likely be postponed.
I would think, after over a week on antibiotics, my counts will be fine. However, I would have thought they'd climb higher than .7 after 4 days on IV antibiotics. They were .6 on Tuesday .5 on Wednesday, .43 on Thursday, and .7 on Friday. They can't tell if that was a "trend" toward upward numbers, or just a fluctuation. They let me come home, though, because there was nothing they were doing there that I cannot do at home.
I'm home. I figured the "I'm home" post would be happy and fun. Call it lack of sleep, the headache, or the whiny state I'm in, but I missed that goal by a long shot. My feelings are hurt by the slightest little thing, I'm exhausted, but need to expend energy in order to get more sleep. For the first time in my life, I'm in the middle of a weekend that seems to be going on too long. Sorry, my working friends. I know that comes as a betrayal to you all. I promise to be crabby about Monday like the rest of you.
Monday morning, I'll go back to work, still avoiding close contact until Tuesday's blood work gets drawn. I had accrued 28 hours of vacation time toward next year, and that will cover most of the 4 days I missed while in the hospital. I'm thankful that those were available, but a bit scared to have my safety net gone. This simply cannot happen again. No problem.
The worst part so far is that it seems that all of the side effects from early on are back. I have a nearly constant headache, I can't sleep, and I'm emotional as hell. I had a really bad headache last night, so I took what felt like enough pills to drop an elephant, and was back up at 1:30. *sigh* I had been sleeping fine for a couple of weeks (without pills) before this setback.
Basically, I think the quarantine has afforded me too much time to think. When I go to work tomorrow, I'll be busy, and that will help. My blood work is set for 3 in the afternoon on Tuesday, but I may see if I can go early so I can wait for the results. If my whites aren't back in the normal range of 4.0 - 11.0, I have to cancel my plastic surgeon's appointment and my chemo on Thursday will likely be postponed.
I would think, after over a week on antibiotics, my counts will be fine. However, I would have thought they'd climb higher than .7 after 4 days on IV antibiotics. They were .6 on Tuesday .5 on Wednesday, .43 on Thursday, and .7 on Friday. They can't tell if that was a "trend" toward upward numbers, or just a fluctuation. They let me come home, though, because there was nothing they were doing there that I cannot do at home.
I'm home. I figured the "I'm home" post would be happy and fun. Call it lack of sleep, the headache, or the whiny state I'm in, but I missed that goal by a long shot. My feelings are hurt by the slightest little thing, I'm exhausted, but need to expend energy in order to get more sleep. For the first time in my life, I'm in the middle of a weekend that seems to be going on too long. Sorry, my working friends. I know that comes as a betrayal to you all. I promise to be crabby about Monday like the rest of you.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Puttin' on My Big Girl Panties
I was going to post last night. The appointment was fine. No bad news anywhere. However, I was the weepiest cry-baby I've been since this whole journey started. I cried about everything. I sent a message to Mom so she wouldn't wonder/worry and told her I'd post today. I don't like to post when I'm in a foul mood, unless I feel like conveying a foul mood in the post (which I sometimes do!)
Anyway, I worked for half a day (if I haven't mentioned it lately, I work with some cool people) and headed to the plastic surgeon's office. The plan was to get my first fill in the tissue expander. Because of how tight things were feeling, I was sure I'd have to go from there to get fluid removed because of the buildup. He checked me out and said it wasn't enough to concern ourselves with. YeeHaw!
That fact made me happier than I thought it would, because of a detail his nurse filled me in on. If I had needed that done, they wouldn't have been able to do the fill. So that all made me VERY grateful. They did the fill and sent me on my way. (By the way, the fill is a GIANT syringe full of saline and the whole process took less than 2 minutes. Easy peasy.)
If you remember, chemo had been scheduled, but they had to cancel when they found out I still had that pesky drain. Now that it's gone, I had to reschedule, which means a visit with the oncologist's office. That was a confusing mess that took over an hour, but it finally got scheduled. From that point on, I became a girl.
I HATE when I am girly and whiny, and I had a FULL evening of it. Everything that was said or done set me off. Poor Kevin. I think the problem is that, until this point, all appointments for procedures have been made, and then I'm informed about them. "Go to this hospital on this date and we're going to do a mastectomy." Oh. OK. "Go to this office and get your tissue expander fill on this date." Oh, OK.
Yesterday, I had to play phone tag and wrestle for a date to see the oncologist, and if she pronounces that all is healed well, I go immediately downstairs for my first chemo treatment. This will be June 12, for those keeping score. I was told to plan on it taking most of the day due to the doctor's appointment first, and the fact that they do your first infusion slowly to watch for any problems.
So, I had make the appointment, chemo is back on the calendar again, and this all made things more real again for some reason. I think getting back to work made me start to feel a little bit more normal. Once the drain was gone, I could get really busy on a project and my brain wasn't constantly thinking CANCER in every train of thought. In fact, I felt the best, physically, yesterday that I've felt since surgery! I was cutting up with friends and having a GREAT morning. Suddenly, last night, the big "C" was back.
So I bawled a lot. Made my husband miserable, too (because he can't fix it.) I woke up this morning to a beautiful day, made some coffee, and read something online that made me tear up. At this point I'd had it with me. Kevin is on the way to Carthage to pick Monica up and Natalie is still in bed, so I'm upstairs alone. This afforded me the opportunity to talk to myself out loud and not be sent to the loony bin.
I lectured myself for a good 5 minutes. "Listen, you big baby! Everyone deserves to go on a pity party sometimes, and everyone deserves to cry. You had that chance. You cried all evening yesterday. You cried about big stuff like cancer and you cried about little stuff like a favorite show being a rerun. You cried and cried and today, you're DONE. Put on your big girl panties, go enjoy this perfect weather, and quit your sniveling.
Call Tammy and take her out to lunch. Take Natalie shopping for a new swimsuit like you promised a week ago. Quit playing victim. Quit acting like cancer has you down, when right this moment, you aren't even undergoing TREATMENT! If you LET yourself, you can feel AWESOME today. Now have some coffee, get dressed, get out of the house and quit feeling sorry for yourself, you big baby."
I suggest that, if you ever act like I was acting, you don't do so around me. I can give some harsh lectures. Right this moment, I'm going to go get dressed and follow my advice. I'm afraid that, if I don't listen to me, I might get mad at me and do something more drastic. :)
Here's to a happy day!
Anyway, I worked for half a day (if I haven't mentioned it lately, I work with some cool people) and headed to the plastic surgeon's office. The plan was to get my first fill in the tissue expander. Because of how tight things were feeling, I was sure I'd have to go from there to get fluid removed because of the buildup. He checked me out and said it wasn't enough to concern ourselves with. YeeHaw!
That fact made me happier than I thought it would, because of a detail his nurse filled me in on. If I had needed that done, they wouldn't have been able to do the fill. So that all made me VERY grateful. They did the fill and sent me on my way. (By the way, the fill is a GIANT syringe full of saline and the whole process took less than 2 minutes. Easy peasy.)
If you remember, chemo had been scheduled, but they had to cancel when they found out I still had that pesky drain. Now that it's gone, I had to reschedule, which means a visit with the oncologist's office. That was a confusing mess that took over an hour, but it finally got scheduled. From that point on, I became a girl.
I HATE when I am girly and whiny, and I had a FULL evening of it. Everything that was said or done set me off. Poor Kevin. I think the problem is that, until this point, all appointments for procedures have been made, and then I'm informed about them. "Go to this hospital on this date and we're going to do a mastectomy." Oh. OK. "Go to this office and get your tissue expander fill on this date." Oh, OK.
Yesterday, I had to play phone tag and wrestle for a date to see the oncologist, and if she pronounces that all is healed well, I go immediately downstairs for my first chemo treatment. This will be June 12, for those keeping score. I was told to plan on it taking most of the day due to the doctor's appointment first, and the fact that they do your first infusion slowly to watch for any problems.
So, I had make the appointment, chemo is back on the calendar again, and this all made things more real again for some reason. I think getting back to work made me start to feel a little bit more normal. Once the drain was gone, I could get really busy on a project and my brain wasn't constantly thinking CANCER in every train of thought. In fact, I felt the best, physically, yesterday that I've felt since surgery! I was cutting up with friends and having a GREAT morning. Suddenly, last night, the big "C" was back.
So I bawled a lot. Made my husband miserable, too (because he can't fix it.) I woke up this morning to a beautiful day, made some coffee, and read something online that made me tear up. At this point I'd had it with me. Kevin is on the way to Carthage to pick Monica up and Natalie is still in bed, so I'm upstairs alone. This afforded me the opportunity to talk to myself out loud and not be sent to the loony bin.
I lectured myself for a good 5 minutes. "Listen, you big baby! Everyone deserves to go on a pity party sometimes, and everyone deserves to cry. You had that chance. You cried all evening yesterday. You cried about big stuff like cancer and you cried about little stuff like a favorite show being a rerun. You cried and cried and today, you're DONE. Put on your big girl panties, go enjoy this perfect weather, and quit your sniveling.
Call Tammy and take her out to lunch. Take Natalie shopping for a new swimsuit like you promised a week ago. Quit playing victim. Quit acting like cancer has you down, when right this moment, you aren't even undergoing TREATMENT! If you LET yourself, you can feel AWESOME today. Now have some coffee, get dressed, get out of the house and quit feeling sorry for yourself, you big baby."
I suggest that, if you ever act like I was acting, you don't do so around me. I can give some harsh lectures. Right this moment, I'm going to go get dressed and follow my advice. I'm afraid that, if I don't listen to me, I might get mad at me and do something more drastic. :)
Here's to a happy day!
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Quit With the Puppy Eyes, OK?
I understand that I have cancer, and that most people don't know what to say or do. I didn't want to post this article, because it might make it sound like I want you to come clean my house. I do NOT (yet) want you to come clean my house. I do, however, appreciate many of the thoughts expressed.
I know that some people freak out and cry forever about a cancer diagnosis. I know that everyone reacts differently and none of those reactions are wrong. Let me clear the air. I am dealing with this one day at a time, and laughing all the way. You need me to help with that big order? Sorry. I can't. I have cancer. (insert big laugh here.)
I've been patient, and will continue to be so. However, if you read this, that means you give a shit about me, so here goes:
Please, under NO circumstances, should you look at me, cock your head to the side like a sad puppy, and ask, "How ya doin', Rachel?" How am I doing? I have cancer. I'm not undergoing treatment right now, so I feel the same as I did 6 months ago. Physically, I'm fine. Emotionally? I have very close friends and family to keep it pulled together.
I had a friend/coworker suggest that I develop tourettes when someone does this. "SHIT DAMN ELBOW BUTT CANCER REFRIGERATOR ASS NO!" I'm not sure that's the right reaction, but it made me laugh.
If you see me crying, an offer of comfort will be welcomed. If I'm working along at my desk, let's just carry on, OK? You won't see me crying at my desk, however, unless someone does the puppy head-cock at me. THAT makes me cry. The cancer doesn't. Not yet, anyway. I don't want it to win. Right now, I'm making inappropriate jokes and waiting for the next Dr's appointment.
Can we move on? I'll let you know when I need something. I promise.
I know that some people freak out and cry forever about a cancer diagnosis. I know that everyone reacts differently and none of those reactions are wrong. Let me clear the air. I am dealing with this one day at a time, and laughing all the way. You need me to help with that big order? Sorry. I can't. I have cancer. (insert big laugh here.)
I've been patient, and will continue to be so. However, if you read this, that means you give a shit about me, so here goes:
Please, under NO circumstances, should you look at me, cock your head to the side like a sad puppy, and ask, "How ya doin', Rachel?" How am I doing? I have cancer. I'm not undergoing treatment right now, so I feel the same as I did 6 months ago. Physically, I'm fine. Emotionally? I have very close friends and family to keep it pulled together.
I had a friend/coworker suggest that I develop tourettes when someone does this. "SHIT DAMN ELBOW BUTT CANCER REFRIGERATOR ASS NO!" I'm not sure that's the right reaction, but it made me laugh.
If you see me crying, an offer of comfort will be welcomed. If I'm working along at my desk, let's just carry on, OK? You won't see me crying at my desk, however, unless someone does the puppy head-cock at me. THAT makes me cry. The cancer doesn't. Not yet, anyway. I don't want it to win. Right now, I'm making inappropriate jokes and waiting for the next Dr's appointment.
Can we move on? I'll let you know when I need something. I promise.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Please Excuse Me. I have PDAS.
I know about PMS. This feels a lot like that, but it's not the right time. Sorry, guys. I should have warned you about THAT, but I didn't. Too late.
I had a freak-out sort of day. Last night and today have been tough, and now that I'm seeing a pattern, tomorrow will be rough, too. My Modus Operandi is to freak the HELL out before an appointment, and then be fine as soon as it's over. Whether the news is good or bad, it's news. I need information. Waiting sucks. It is Pre Doctor Appointment Syndrome. I suffer it greatly.
Tomorrow is my oncologist appointment. I will find out what medication will be involved to help me kick this thing's ass. I find out if I'll lose my hair. I find out if I'll be too exhausted to work at the level that I want to during this thing. It doesn't matter. Tell me I'll kick it's butt, and I'll do what you say. It's just the unknown that is killing me. It did last week, too.
So, I suffer from PDAS. I'll be about to pass out on the way into the Dr's office, and fine when I walk out. Just like last week. Now that I can name it and recognize it, I plan to laugh at the tears. Laugh at the shaking hands. Laugh at the stupid reactions I seem to have to certain things. We're out of rice? WAHHHH! LOL
Sorry. You can't judge me right now. I have PDAS.
I had a freak-out sort of day. Last night and today have been tough, and now that I'm seeing a pattern, tomorrow will be rough, too. My Modus Operandi is to freak the HELL out before an appointment, and then be fine as soon as it's over. Whether the news is good or bad, it's news. I need information. Waiting sucks. It is Pre Doctor Appointment Syndrome. I suffer it greatly.
Tomorrow is my oncologist appointment. I will find out what medication will be involved to help me kick this thing's ass. I find out if I'll lose my hair. I find out if I'll be too exhausted to work at the level that I want to during this thing. It doesn't matter. Tell me I'll kick it's butt, and I'll do what you say. It's just the unknown that is killing me. It did last week, too.
So, I suffer from PDAS. I'll be about to pass out on the way into the Dr's office, and fine when I walk out. Just like last week. Now that I can name it and recognize it, I plan to laugh at the tears. Laugh at the shaking hands. Laugh at the stupid reactions I seem to have to certain things. We're out of rice? WAHHHH! LOL
Sorry. You can't judge me right now. I have PDAS.
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