I think I'm driving myself insane as I learn how to navigate the blog realm, so that it's easy for you, the reader, to not only read, but also find past posts that may interest you and to leave comments as well, as I most certainly want to hear from you.
Any feedback (be nice now) that you could give me on your experience is greatly appreciated and I will learn how to implement as much as I can. (If I figure it out. ha ha ha ha).
Friday, December 29, 2017
Thursday, December 28, 2017
My Journey with the Red Devil Comes to an End
Reflecting on my journey so far, I feel my body decided to experience every possible side effect of the Red Devil Chemotherapy. My Doctor says I shouldn't call it that, The Red Devil, believing that mentally I'm making the side effects worse. I disagree. They are bad enough on their own. And it's not only the chemotherapy side effects, it's the medications to counter some of the side effects of the chemotherapy that I'm combatting as well. Oy vey.
ARM SORENESS:
This pain comes from either the original biopsy or the lumpectomy, but comes back here and there (still) as a strange tenderness that starts at the elbow and radiates all the way down to my hand. It's a lovely pain that I have figured out dissipates some if I inhale three gallons of water.
DRY MOUTH:
Not even sure what is causing this. It's not a listed side effect of either chemos I'm doing, so either it's the steroids or it's the anti nausea meds. How do I describe this one? At night, my tongue will become stuck to the roof of my mouth and probably resembles the texture of a cat's tongue. Oh and it feels like I licked a sandbox. Even after 4 -5 glasses of water, it's a chalky horridness that won't go away (other than using the lovely mints given to me by a friend. Thank you!). This particular side effect was the worst during the last round and nothing has sounded good to eat for days. But of course, I haven't lost a single pound. What a waste of a lack of appetite.
HEARTBURN:
Well you all know how that went...not great. This again, must be a side effect of medication as I didn't see it on the list of chemo side effects. The first round brought me to the hospital since I had this radiating chest pain where I thought the creature from Alien was about to burst forth from my chest at any moment. The second round welcomed the evil fire creature from Moana, Te Ka. Fire and lava reaching out from the pit of my stomach all the way up to my throat, leaving what felt like a welt every time I tried to swallow. We finally figured out how to keep that at bay, but coffee tastes like ass and it's always there, waiting in the wings for it's encore.
NAUSEA:
I'm happy to announce that, thus far, I have NOT thrown up, but I have had nausea. I wasn't the best at administering the anti nausea meds (but I think another side effect played into that). Anyway, it began with a nausea reminiscent to when I was pregnant. This constant gross feeling that I felt would almost be improved if I did throw up. During the first round I came close and they continuously adjusted my medications to combat these feelings. I still feel some level of it and thinking about any part of my hospital visits or certain foods will bring it about immediately. Even now. Luckily it starts to fade as I get closer to the next visit. Is that luck...or irony?
CONSTIPATION:
This is kind of like saying Voldemort in my house...for the Harry Potter fans.
NEUROPATHY:
I didn't even realize that this was what I was feeling until after the third round. The second round, almost when I was about to get the third, it came on like I was developing calluses on my feet. At one point I kept feeling like I had stepped on something that stuck to my foot. Like a bit of dirt or food and I tried to brush it off and nothing was there. It drove me crazy for about 10 minutes. So that is when I began to wonder if that feeling was neuropathy. That "numbness" which isn't really numbness and "tingling" that didn't really tingle. For me it was a callusy feeling on my feet, and on my fingers it felt like a tightening of the skin around the nails. Well now I know. It never lasts for more than a day (Knock on Wood). I do hear it's worse with Taxol though and I'm about to start that next week. I'm so over this shit.
HAIR LOSS:
But of course. There were a few out there that tried to give me hope and state that they knew those that had no hair loss with the chemotherapy. That was not the case for me and the doctors didn't really give me the idea that it would be the case. Once my hair began to fall out I decided to cut it (as I shared earlier) I buzzed it as short as possible without shaving (skin is also very sensitive) and within a week or two the rest of my hair fell out completely into my hats and during my showers. It made me wonder if I shouldn't have just waited for it to fall out without cutting it at all, as the tiny pointy hairs that fell out were super itchy. From the front I have a wonderfully shaped head. It works. From the back, I have fat man's head. It doesn't work. Hats it is.
INSOMNIA:
This one wasn't necessarily a bad thing until the third round where it was days of not sleeping. (Yes, this is an exaggeration. I slept for about 2-4 hours per day for about 3 to 4 days) The lack of sleep made me completely emotional as well. My poor fiance didn't get much sleep either, as I was up and down constantly getting frustrated with myself. I already was beginning to cry at the cheesiest of commercials, but now everything made me cry. As if I had the liquid to spare.
EXHAUSTION:
The last round had me so tired I believe it rivaled a case of mono, but I have no real basis of comparison. (Bright side, I was sleeping loads this time) I just have never experienced anything like it. And I truly hope that the radiation induced exhaustion isn't this bad. I would get up in an attempt to do the dishes or exercise like the doc...(ha ha ha ha I can't even finish this sentence). I would get up in an attempt to do the dishes or get a glass of water and I would get so tired. As I stood up my heart would begin to pound in my chest. It wouldn't be long before I had to sit or lay down again. The idea of climbing the stairs was borderline nightmarish. This feeling lasted for days.
There were many other side effects that I experienced here and there, such as swelling feet and nose bleeds, but those listed above were the heavy hitters for me. I'm so glad that this stage of the treatment is over and I hope it makes a huge difference in my recovery going forward. I guess eventually I'm going to need to do that exercise thing in order to aid that recovery, but for now, I'm just glad I'm mentally holding it together. And now I need more water, that thing that will not actually hydrate my tongue/mouth ever.
Note: Please see the bottom for some updates on the blog that allows you to check boxes on whether you found a post funny, informative, cool, etc.
Note: Please see the bottom for some updates on the blog that allows you to check boxes on whether you found a post funny, informative, cool, etc.
Tuesday, December 26, 2017
Red Devil: Round 4, Let's Call This One a Tie
Well, ding dong, I'm done. With the Red Devil that is, but it is not done with me. This round brings on a level of exhaustion I have not yet experienced. And not just with chemo, in my life either. I never contracted mono for a comparison to this. This very moment is the first time I've had the energy to do anything and it's basically Tuesday of the week following the treatment.
It's hard to even remember most of last week to be perfectly honest. I will not forget the last round itself. First of all, my wonderful cousin, Tami, joined me this round. We had a wonderful time making the doctor laugh and each other. My cousin Tami has a strange interest with the medical profession that stops short of actually being in the medical profession. After they had inserted the IV into my port (which merely writing about this is making want to throw up a little bit) she told me how they were taking my blood. I figured she told me because I wasn't looking. I gave her the look of death and said, "Hey, I'm not looking for a reason." Our banter just continued from there, surely entertaining the entire staff as we went.
In the doctor's office we began to discuss all that ailed me. Somewhere the question of radiation and hair loss came up. My mom had wondered if radiation would also cause hair loss because my older brother Jake had hair loss as a child from it. He did not have chemo back then. The doctor explained that it would cause hair loss in the area that the radiation is being applied, so my hair would start to grow (on my head) once the chemo was over, even during the radiation. He added, "So because your radiation is on the breast, you will have nothing to worry about." I couldn't help myself but to respond, "Unless I have a hairy chest." The conversation went downhill from there.
Tami continued to make jokes to which I would remind her she was a terrible support system. It's family, we have to ride each other. Once more I received the suite, but not until after the blood test was delivered. (If I haven't mentioned it previously, it's the suite because it's in the corner, more private, and larger than other infusion stations) My blood work is finally starting to show signs of the chemo. Some things were too high and some things were too low. Most things I didn't understand, but since the doctor had no worries, than I wasn't going to worry. He did tell me I was getting a great nurse. I thought that meant most experienced, but I'm thinking it meant new. The whole round felt more of everything. She was very nice, but everything seemed harder.
I'm having such a difficult time writing about this moment. I'm sitting here feeling all of the blood leave my face and my mouth water. Perhaps I should move on. I'll come back to this later if I'm up to it.
The side effects also didn't go very smoothly. The exhaustion level shot through the roof. This is the first time I can handle sitting at my desk at home. It's also insane to me how I have such a hard time remembering things, not bumping into things or dropping things, saying things without my tongue getting in the way, thinking of the thing to say, but not being able to get it out. I would get angry and want to say fuck, but it would come out fluck. This would only make me escalate to a higher level of anger and I would want to hit something. However, I don't want to break anything of mine. It was hard enough trying not to break things by accident.
Poor Kevin, having to not only deal with my venty meltdowns, but he was likely on overload with helping me do things because this round rivaled the first in nausea.
We had friends come over Friday night. I was determined to be okay. It was Christmas weekend. Every 5 to 15 minutes I would have to sit down or lay down on the couch. The evening did not last long and I felt guilty not being able to entertain my guests. Which is totally ridiculous as I'm going through chemo and they completely understood that.
I made it through my mom's party on Saturday and Kevin's family today. I was just starting to come out of the exhaustion and nausea fog when suddenly a cold has reared it's ugly head and here I sit, typing away, waiting for the Nyquil to kick in.
It's hard to even remember most of last week to be perfectly honest. I will not forget the last round itself. First of all, my wonderful cousin, Tami, joined me this round. We had a wonderful time making the doctor laugh and each other. My cousin Tami has a strange interest with the medical profession that stops short of actually being in the medical profession. After they had inserted the IV into my port (which merely writing about this is making want to throw up a little bit) she told me how they were taking my blood. I figured she told me because I wasn't looking. I gave her the look of death and said, "Hey, I'm not looking for a reason." Our banter just continued from there, surely entertaining the entire staff as we went.
In the doctor's office we began to discuss all that ailed me. Somewhere the question of radiation and hair loss came up. My mom had wondered if radiation would also cause hair loss because my older brother Jake had hair loss as a child from it. He did not have chemo back then. The doctor explained that it would cause hair loss in the area that the radiation is being applied, so my hair would start to grow (on my head) once the chemo was over, even during the radiation. He added, "So because your radiation is on the breast, you will have nothing to worry about." I couldn't help myself but to respond, "Unless I have a hairy chest." The conversation went downhill from there.
Tami continued to make jokes to which I would remind her she was a terrible support system. It's family, we have to ride each other. Once more I received the suite, but not until after the blood test was delivered. (If I haven't mentioned it previously, it's the suite because it's in the corner, more private, and larger than other infusion stations) My blood work is finally starting to show signs of the chemo. Some things were too high and some things were too low. Most things I didn't understand, but since the doctor had no worries, than I wasn't going to worry. He did tell me I was getting a great nurse. I thought that meant most experienced, but I'm thinking it meant new. The whole round felt more of everything. She was very nice, but everything seemed harder.
I'm having such a difficult time writing about this moment. I'm sitting here feeling all of the blood leave my face and my mouth water. Perhaps I should move on. I'll come back to this later if I'm up to it.
The side effects also didn't go very smoothly. The exhaustion level shot through the roof. This is the first time I can handle sitting at my desk at home. It's also insane to me how I have such a hard time remembering things, not bumping into things or dropping things, saying things without my tongue getting in the way, thinking of the thing to say, but not being able to get it out. I would get angry and want to say fuck, but it would come out fluck. This would only make me escalate to a higher level of anger and I would want to hit something. However, I don't want to break anything of mine. It was hard enough trying not to break things by accident.
Poor Kevin, having to not only deal with my venty meltdowns, but he was likely on overload with helping me do things because this round rivaled the first in nausea.
We had friends come over Friday night. I was determined to be okay. It was Christmas weekend. Every 5 to 15 minutes I would have to sit down or lay down on the couch. The evening did not last long and I felt guilty not being able to entertain my guests. Which is totally ridiculous as I'm going through chemo and they completely understood that.
I made it through my mom's party on Saturday and Kevin's family today. I was just starting to come out of the exhaustion and nausea fog when suddenly a cold has reared it's ugly head and here I sit, typing away, waiting for the Nyquil to kick in.
Friday, December 15, 2017
Cancer Has More Negatives than Just Chemotherapy
One thing a Full Medical Leave gives you, is time to think. Especially, if you have insomnia caused by treatment. My emotions have also been all over the place too. It's hard to know when I'm being overly sensitive or if the people around me are the ones being insensitive.
You would think going through surgery, chemo, the side effects of chemo, and everything else would be enough to deal with when you have been diagnosed with cancer, but apparently that isn't the end of it. Judgment, fear, and lack of compassion from some rear it's ugly head and take you by surprise, while others pour out to help and melt your heart with their concern and support. I've sadly and happily experienced the gamete of this.
The Low of the Lows:
The sad part is the former impacts you so much more when you are dealing with the horror show that is cancer. It stresses you to a level you don't need. It breaks you down when you need to be lifted up. And the worst part is sometimes it comes from those that are your own family and those closest to you. It damages those relationships, sometimes irreparably.
The other day I had such said moment with a family member. I have no intention of speaking to that person ever again. It was a simple question met with disdain. They simply could have said no and left it alone, but the need to shame me and berate me and try to make me feel like a loser at the worst point in my life. (Not just what I'm going through now, but burying my older brother in June. This year has already been a shitshow). A truly innocent question met with a cold, thoughtless, and at the same time childish response.
So of course, I met it in kind. I don't believe the reasons given by the offender were the true reason for the lashing, but rather something far more immature. I cried for an hour.
I was in the car at the time, in my daughter's school parking lot. We were about to go in when I received the message I could never have anticipated coming. My emotions went from angry to embarrassed to overwhelming heartache within 20 seconds. The tears poured out as I messaged back from the first emotion, the angry place.
I wondered if I was crazy, if it was me, if I deserved this? I brought my daughter into school after trying to wipe the tears away, but I couldn't hide the swollen, puffy eyes. And I couldn't ignore the look of sympathy on the teacher's face.
I then drove to the local Starbuck's to get a cold coffee and I still couldn't stop crying. Not sobbing, just silent tears falling. As I approached the drive thru the swelling had worsened. I could feel bags under my eyes forming. (it didn't help that I hadn't slept more than a few hours for the past few nights.) And once more, I received a pitied look from the woman at the drive thru handing me my order.
I drove to my mom's. One of my few good days and I wanted to run errands, but now I couldn't. I was too busy trying to grapple with many emotions. Emotions I suppressed for the last few months. Tears I hadn't yet cried for my brother and this moment unleashed a dam of salty water I had stored up. There would be no errands today. One of my few good days was to be wasted on someone not worth wasting anything on. Did I feel that way about this person before this event? No, but I certainly did and do now.
I spent the next couple of hours at my mom's needing comfort and my wounds licked. I needed confirmation that I did nothing wrong. I need assurance that this person was the one who was in the wrong. Today I feel much differently. I do NOT feel I deserved it. I understand that this person is likely sick and damaged and there is no fixing someone who can be so heartless. What they did is really unimportant, it's the fact that they did it. It's the fact that I learned something new about someone in my life that I didn't think they were capable of.
Less Bad, But Still Disheartening:
There are those out there that think I'm trying to garner sympathy by shaving my head. Seeing how I haven't had short hair since I was 5...most definitely NEVER would I cut my hair to get it. Depending on the chemo you can start to lose your hair between 12-16 days after the first treatment and that, in fact, is the average. This time frame tends to run into the second treatment, but most likely Round 1 is causing the hair loss. Some people do not lose their hair, but I would say those people are the exception, not the rule.
There are some that are bothered that I blog about this because they themselves would not be comfortable sharing such details of their own lives. I'm not them. I'm not uncomfortable sharing. Anyone who knows me would not be surprised to see me sharing. And they most certainly don't have to read it.
And finally, there are those that severely disapprove of GoFundMe. I have one, which a family member of mine started for me. And to that I say, then don't donate. The reason those things ever came to be were for people like me and people far worse off. And there are people on there for reasons I may not agree with, but again, I don't donate if I don't agree. Apparently, there are those out there who feel I should go bankrupt and lose my house before ever getting any kind of assistance or help from others. Regardless, if they themselves have ever received any kind of handout themselves. I can only conclude that they believe they have somehow earned it while others have not. Or they don't believe anyone will find out that they too are human and needed help. Most likely, now that they have money, they don't like to have to give back to the community. The same community that once supported them.
The Upswing:
But then there are those angels. The light in the dark. The people that make me go...WOW! I can't believe you even thought of me! They are those that rose from out of nowhere and shocked and amazed me. People I didn't know well or at all, donating to my expenses. Friends and family wanting to take my daughter on play dates, make charitable tee-shirts, take me to get my nails done, come with me during treatment, bring me dinner or flowers, or just check in on me with a text or a call. Those people are the people that can turn a bad day into a good day quite quickly. Thank God! Without them, the people mentioned above would take a piece of me. The people above would likely get me to stop writing this blog due to their judgments.
There have already been times where I wanted to shut this down, shut down go fund me, and close facebook because of others' actions and unkindness. They wanted to shame me and it worked...until my true friends and family came through and reassured me that it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Everyone is different and everyone needs to take this journey in a way that suits them. If there are those people in your life that can't understand it or support it, then they don't need to be apart of it. But don't expect to be apart of my life after it's over either.
Those supportive people are the ones that have stood out to me as being truly genuine. I'm not different to talk to, yet it's hard for some. It's scary, I guess. Uncomfortable. However, who am I to judge those who have said nothing to me? Even those who said nothing to me when Jake died. Before my dad or before my brother, I had no understanding on how to deal with death or illness, when it was someone else's loss. When those around me lost someone, I said nothing because I thought that was the best thing to do. Or at least I told myself that's why I said nothing. It wasn't. And it was far from the best thing to do. Even saying that you are sorry is better than saying nothing at all. And this is my learning tool. I hope from this I will become far more cognisant of those around me and their grief. And instead of worrying about my own comfort, offer them some instead.
You would think going through surgery, chemo, the side effects of chemo, and everything else would be enough to deal with when you have been diagnosed with cancer, but apparently that isn't the end of it. Judgment, fear, and lack of compassion from some rear it's ugly head and take you by surprise, while others pour out to help and melt your heart with their concern and support. I've sadly and happily experienced the gamete of this.
The Low of the Lows:
The sad part is the former impacts you so much more when you are dealing with the horror show that is cancer. It stresses you to a level you don't need. It breaks you down when you need to be lifted up. And the worst part is sometimes it comes from those that are your own family and those closest to you. It damages those relationships, sometimes irreparably.
The other day I had such said moment with a family member. I have no intention of speaking to that person ever again. It was a simple question met with disdain. They simply could have said no and left it alone, but the need to shame me and berate me and try to make me feel like a loser at the worst point in my life. (Not just what I'm going through now, but burying my older brother in June. This year has already been a shitshow). A truly innocent question met with a cold, thoughtless, and at the same time childish response.
So of course, I met it in kind. I don't believe the reasons given by the offender were the true reason for the lashing, but rather something far more immature. I cried for an hour.
I was in the car at the time, in my daughter's school parking lot. We were about to go in when I received the message I could never have anticipated coming. My emotions went from angry to embarrassed to overwhelming heartache within 20 seconds. The tears poured out as I messaged back from the first emotion, the angry place.
I wondered if I was crazy, if it was me, if I deserved this? I brought my daughter into school after trying to wipe the tears away, but I couldn't hide the swollen, puffy eyes. And I couldn't ignore the look of sympathy on the teacher's face.
I then drove to the local Starbuck's to get a cold coffee and I still couldn't stop crying. Not sobbing, just silent tears falling. As I approached the drive thru the swelling had worsened. I could feel bags under my eyes forming. (it didn't help that I hadn't slept more than a few hours for the past few nights.) And once more, I received a pitied look from the woman at the drive thru handing me my order.
I drove to my mom's. One of my few good days and I wanted to run errands, but now I couldn't. I was too busy trying to grapple with many emotions. Emotions I suppressed for the last few months. Tears I hadn't yet cried for my brother and this moment unleashed a dam of salty water I had stored up. There would be no errands today. One of my few good days was to be wasted on someone not worth wasting anything on. Did I feel that way about this person before this event? No, but I certainly did and do now.
I spent the next couple of hours at my mom's needing comfort and my wounds licked. I needed confirmation that I did nothing wrong. I need assurance that this person was the one who was in the wrong. Today I feel much differently. I do NOT feel I deserved it. I understand that this person is likely sick and damaged and there is no fixing someone who can be so heartless. What they did is really unimportant, it's the fact that they did it. It's the fact that I learned something new about someone in my life that I didn't think they were capable of.
Less Bad, But Still Disheartening:
There are those out there that think I'm trying to garner sympathy by shaving my head. Seeing how I haven't had short hair since I was 5...most definitely NEVER would I cut my hair to get it. Depending on the chemo you can start to lose your hair between 12-16 days after the first treatment and that, in fact, is the average. This time frame tends to run into the second treatment, but most likely Round 1 is causing the hair loss. Some people do not lose their hair, but I would say those people are the exception, not the rule.
There are some that are bothered that I blog about this because they themselves would not be comfortable sharing such details of their own lives. I'm not them. I'm not uncomfortable sharing. Anyone who knows me would not be surprised to see me sharing. And they most certainly don't have to read it.
And finally, there are those that severely disapprove of GoFundMe. I have one, which a family member of mine started for me. And to that I say, then don't donate. The reason those things ever came to be were for people like me and people far worse off. And there are people on there for reasons I may not agree with, but again, I don't donate if I don't agree. Apparently, there are those out there who feel I should go bankrupt and lose my house before ever getting any kind of assistance or help from others. Regardless, if they themselves have ever received any kind of handout themselves. I can only conclude that they believe they have somehow earned it while others have not. Or they don't believe anyone will find out that they too are human and needed help. Most likely, now that they have money, they don't like to have to give back to the community. The same community that once supported them.
The Upswing:
But then there are those angels. The light in the dark. The people that make me go...WOW! I can't believe you even thought of me! They are those that rose from out of nowhere and shocked and amazed me. People I didn't know well or at all, donating to my expenses. Friends and family wanting to take my daughter on play dates, make charitable tee-shirts, take me to get my nails done, come with me during treatment, bring me dinner or flowers, or just check in on me with a text or a call. Those people are the people that can turn a bad day into a good day quite quickly. Thank God! Without them, the people mentioned above would take a piece of me. The people above would likely get me to stop writing this blog due to their judgments.
There have already been times where I wanted to shut this down, shut down go fund me, and close facebook because of others' actions and unkindness. They wanted to shame me and it worked...until my true friends and family came through and reassured me that it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Everyone is different and everyone needs to take this journey in a way that suits them. If there are those people in your life that can't understand it or support it, then they don't need to be apart of it. But don't expect to be apart of my life after it's over either.
Those supportive people are the ones that have stood out to me as being truly genuine. I'm not different to talk to, yet it's hard for some. It's scary, I guess. Uncomfortable. However, who am I to judge those who have said nothing to me? Even those who said nothing to me when Jake died. Before my dad or before my brother, I had no understanding on how to deal with death or illness, when it was someone else's loss. When those around me lost someone, I said nothing because I thought that was the best thing to do. Or at least I told myself that's why I said nothing. It wasn't. And it was far from the best thing to do. Even saying that you are sorry is better than saying nothing at all. And this is my learning tool. I hope from this I will become far more cognisant of those around me and their grief. And instead of worrying about my own comfort, offer them some instead.
Thursday, December 7, 2017
Red Devil: Round 3 Brings New Challenges
This will likely take me days to write, as it usually does. I can only seem to write a little at a time.
Before Monday's treatment I had energy like no other, the night before, and I was determined to get as much done as possible before I could no longer do these things for over a week. My 5 year old and I baked and decorated sugar cookies, made ornaments, and put up the little Christmas tree this year.
Due to all of this activity, I stayed up later than I should, most likely because I knew what was to come very early in the morning. The earliest appointment to date, outside of the two surgeries.
So of course due to my late night I woke up late and had no time to do Melina's hair for school, so I let my mom. We rushed there and barely made it for the drop off before I had to run to the hospital for the fun to begin.
The nice part about this visit was I wasn't sick like I was before during the last treatment. I was able to do some things on my computer and had the wonderful company of my fiance, but I was so tired afterwards. Just thinking about the treatments makes me feel like throwing up. That feeling will last til next week, and it's really hard to push it out of my head. Even the wonderful food, that tasted just fine while I was there, now the memory haunts my stomach and my taste buds.
I must stop eating the hospital food. It's not bad, but it's ruins the foods I would ordinarily enjoy later. Right now it's a struggle just to write this and I know it's not the worst day either. That's still to come. Friday, Saturday and perhaps Sunday and Monday will be the worst. Then perhaps I"ll feel really good by Thursday or Friday of next week.
I'm counting it down. The Red Devil hits one last time on the 18th. And I have to stop thinking about it. Churning in my stomach begins when I do. Then we move to the weekly doses of a different chemo for 12 weeks.
I also need to stop rambling. I'm a talker and a fast one, but I've noticed it's worse when I check in. I think I should be popping an anti anxiety pill before the treatments start. Maybe I won't forget stuff that are important and maybe my hands will stop sweating before they need to access the port. (shudder)
Then there is the showering. This has become another difficult task because we buzzed the bulk of my hair and now it's a million tiny itchy hairs on my shoulders and over my face as it continues to fall out while hot water splashes over my head. Yes, I know it could be worse and more traumatizing if it was long hair, but surprisingly there is still a trauma to losing your hair when it's not in your control, regardless of the length. But I can't avoid the shower or I'll smell really bad and that's no good.
The heartburn has been in check, so far, as is the constipation. Nausea is still in and out and exhaustion seems to have taken over. Following the previous treatment, my feet began to hurt in the second week, but not in the way that makes me believe it's nueropathy. Just pain in the balls and heels when walking, like callouses or something. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but there was pain
I'm hoping that the rest isn't as bad, but I'm on a full medical leave now until this is all done. It's too hard to predict how I'm feeling and so far it hasn't been good. Sometimes I stumble over my own words and I don't feel that is good either for communication skills. I'm blaming this on what they call chemo brain.
Then there are the non cancer sides of all of this. Today marks the 6th month anniversary of my older brother's death. I still haven't had time to really grieve his loss. I haven't even visited the grave, because the thoughts that roll through my head, I just can't be there yet. I just focus on my very beautiful daughter who today came to my aid when she thought my mom was being mean to me. When in reality, she was being a mom. But it was beautiful. And she is the reason I continue on forward for. Even when the news wants to shut that down...you know, happiness.
I went to my counseling appointment yesterday. That was another struggle due to the exhaustion and there was some confusion with medications at the pharmacy. Three millions pounds of paperwork for financial assistance programs and it's hard to keep my strength up to fill them out and get the necessary documentation. It becomes overwhelming, but I guess any moment I get, I will be doing what I can.
Til the next time...
Before Monday's treatment I had energy like no other, the night before, and I was determined to get as much done as possible before I could no longer do these things for over a week. My 5 year old and I baked and decorated sugar cookies, made ornaments, and put up the little Christmas tree this year.
Due to all of this activity, I stayed up later than I should, most likely because I knew what was to come very early in the morning. The earliest appointment to date, outside of the two surgeries.
So of course due to my late night I woke up late and had no time to do Melina's hair for school, so I let my mom. We rushed there and barely made it for the drop off before I had to run to the hospital for the fun to begin.
The nice part about this visit was I wasn't sick like I was before during the last treatment. I was able to do some things on my computer and had the wonderful company of my fiance, but I was so tired afterwards. Just thinking about the treatments makes me feel like throwing up. That feeling will last til next week, and it's really hard to push it out of my head. Even the wonderful food, that tasted just fine while I was there, now the memory haunts my stomach and my taste buds.
I must stop eating the hospital food. It's not bad, but it's ruins the foods I would ordinarily enjoy later. Right now it's a struggle just to write this and I know it's not the worst day either. That's still to come. Friday, Saturday and perhaps Sunday and Monday will be the worst. Then perhaps I"ll feel really good by Thursday or Friday of next week.
I'm counting it down. The Red Devil hits one last time on the 18th. And I have to stop thinking about it. Churning in my stomach begins when I do. Then we move to the weekly doses of a different chemo for 12 weeks.
I also need to stop rambling. I'm a talker and a fast one, but I've noticed it's worse when I check in. I think I should be popping an anti anxiety pill before the treatments start. Maybe I won't forget stuff that are important and maybe my hands will stop sweating before they need to access the port. (shudder)
Then there is the showering. This has become another difficult task because we buzzed the bulk of my hair and now it's a million tiny itchy hairs on my shoulders and over my face as it continues to fall out while hot water splashes over my head. Yes, I know it could be worse and more traumatizing if it was long hair, but surprisingly there is still a trauma to losing your hair when it's not in your control, regardless of the length. But I can't avoid the shower or I'll smell really bad and that's no good.
The heartburn has been in check, so far, as is the constipation. Nausea is still in and out and exhaustion seems to have taken over. Following the previous treatment, my feet began to hurt in the second week, but not in the way that makes me believe it's nueropathy. Just pain in the balls and heels when walking, like callouses or something. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but there was pain
I'm hoping that the rest isn't as bad, but I'm on a full medical leave now until this is all done. It's too hard to predict how I'm feeling and so far it hasn't been good. Sometimes I stumble over my own words and I don't feel that is good either for communication skills. I'm blaming this on what they call chemo brain.
Then there are the non cancer sides of all of this. Today marks the 6th month anniversary of my older brother's death. I still haven't had time to really grieve his loss. I haven't even visited the grave, because the thoughts that roll through my head, I just can't be there yet. I just focus on my very beautiful daughter who today came to my aid when she thought my mom was being mean to me. When in reality, she was being a mom. But it was beautiful. And she is the reason I continue on forward for. Even when the news wants to shut that down...you know, happiness.
I went to my counseling appointment yesterday. That was another struggle due to the exhaustion and there was some confusion with medications at the pharmacy. Three millions pounds of paperwork for financial assistance programs and it's hard to keep my strength up to fill them out and get the necessary documentation. It becomes overwhelming, but I guess any moment I get, I will be doing what I can.
Til the next time...
Saturday, November 25, 2017
Round Two: Red Devil, Strong as Hell, But I'm Going Down Swinging
Well Round 2 was less scary. No tears prior to the port access, but my hands began to sweat immensely, as did my feet. Not a great thing when the feet sweat. I confess, my feet...whew! It's a miracle I found a fiance who has NO sense of smell whatsoever. Of course than I have to be the one to discover gas leaks or smoke, and no one to verify if it's in my head.
On this particular round, I took my mother with me. My cousin Maria was on the schedule, but a work emergency came up and could not be avoided. So I brought my daughter to my mom's, so that my step dad could take her to school. Neither of them realized how long this day would be. The first time it went from 915 am to 230 pm, which meant we needed to head out at 845 and would get back around 300. It's an all day process.
This may just be how long the red devil takes, I'll find out in January I guess, when I start a different medication. That one could take less time.
We arrived and checked in. This is my favorite part (well this was my favorite part til the heartburn thing kicked in), getting coffee. Then there is the prep...my not so favorite part. I feel sick to my stomach thinking about this whole process. I'm still not feeling well. It's almost worse than last time, but not as bad in some ways as well. All the symptoms seemed to have began sooner and I'm afraid of round 3.
Anyway, they do the blood pressure, port access, and blood draw. As I mentioned above, my hands began to sweat from the idea of the port being accessed. I don't feel like this will change going forward. But the more it's done and isn't so terrible, the less likely I will be sweating. It did seem to bother my mom when she realized what was happening. I can understand that. She went from Jake who was stoic about every aspect and I burst into tears at anything new. I can't imagine what will happen if this comes back within five years and it's more of this, but worse. I'm a horrible patient.
Anyway, it went smoothly, but the blood pressure cuff agitated my right arm, the same side as where as my lumpectomy. It appeared to make my arm very, very tender.
We were shown back into the lobby to wait for the doctor. It was another delayed day, I guess. As we waited I ran into one of the ladies from the make up course I had done the week before. She was with who I could only assume was her granddaughter.
After a brief conversation with them, we were called back again. This time to see the nurse and the doctor. The nurse was in and out, and then we sat and waited patiently for a busy oncologist. The appointment went longer than anticipated because we need to discuss the side effects of the first treatment and the ways we could combat hose issues. The blood results were also great, except the ALT, but I had the alcohol..soo... And this reflects liver stuff. It was very low in a good way previously as I had not drank in the weeks leading up to that week, so I'm fairly confident that this is why those numbers were raised.
Anyhoo, after all of that we went back to the lobby to wait another 10 minutes for my infusion station to be ready. In the meantime, I gave information to the schedulers about the free wigs at a local mall related to cancer patients. A friend, Kathy had passed this along to me and I thought it would be great to share with the office. They were very excited about it and made up fliers immediately to share with the other patients. It felt nice to know that both my friend and I were able to help.
After my lunch order was taken we finally were called back. I dropped more brochures off at the station from my wig store that I loved. And then we got settled in. My mom started crocheting and I started pulling out my computer to email work. I forgot to set up my out of office email. I'm not used to being out like this.
My pictures of treatment this week turned into before and afters. It appears that 10 minutes after they injected the red devil, there was definitely a color change to my palor. My mom noticed it and I almost laughed, cause I felt it too.
Before, only pre meds, like nausea meds at this point...
10 minutes after the first chemo...red devil. Holy hannah..not a good look at all. Makes me queezy looking at the pic.
Once it was 230, they were wrapping it up and putting the Nuelasta pack on me again.
The first few days I actually didn't feel too terrible. Okay, that's a lie, I did feel terrible, but the way I felt the days following those, I'd give anything to feel that good right now. Ugh!
The days that followed included some fun insomnia, rancid heartburn (in some ways worse than before), a counseling appointment, and another heart test. This was all the while my 40th birthday rolled around and we discovered shaving my head would also occur on this day due to the hair loss. It's been an adjustment and although I had picked out a wig and everything, suddenly I became self conscious about it.
I'm not looking forward to work either for all of these reasons. I'm embarrassed and I don't want pity. I share this story because like I've said before I love to write and I overshare, but it's in no means a cry for pity or attention. The embarrassment of all of this and feeling so horrible, it's very debilitating in so many ways. And sometimes you just want to crawl in bed and not get out, but you can't because you have a 5 year old or because heart burn is so bad you can't lay down or because everyone wants you to be happy and positive. It's exhausting. Worrying about money and the future and paperwork and other people's crap...it's so overwhelming I feel like I'm drowning..and I've only had two treatments.
This is definitely the part of the week where my writing is so lacking. I feel like a complete zombie right now, just trying to form a sentence. Until later...
On this particular round, I took my mother with me. My cousin Maria was on the schedule, but a work emergency came up and could not be avoided. So I brought my daughter to my mom's, so that my step dad could take her to school. Neither of them realized how long this day would be. The first time it went from 915 am to 230 pm, which meant we needed to head out at 845 and would get back around 300. It's an all day process.
This may just be how long the red devil takes, I'll find out in January I guess, when I start a different medication. That one could take less time.
We arrived and checked in. This is my favorite part (well this was my favorite part til the heartburn thing kicked in), getting coffee. Then there is the prep...my not so favorite part. I feel sick to my stomach thinking about this whole process. I'm still not feeling well. It's almost worse than last time, but not as bad in some ways as well. All the symptoms seemed to have began sooner and I'm afraid of round 3.
Anyway, they do the blood pressure, port access, and blood draw. As I mentioned above, my hands began to sweat from the idea of the port being accessed. I don't feel like this will change going forward. But the more it's done and isn't so terrible, the less likely I will be sweating. It did seem to bother my mom when she realized what was happening. I can understand that. She went from Jake who was stoic about every aspect and I burst into tears at anything new. I can't imagine what will happen if this comes back within five years and it's more of this, but worse. I'm a horrible patient.
Anyway, it went smoothly, but the blood pressure cuff agitated my right arm, the same side as where as my lumpectomy. It appeared to make my arm very, very tender.
We were shown back into the lobby to wait for the doctor. It was another delayed day, I guess. As we waited I ran into one of the ladies from the make up course I had done the week before. She was with who I could only assume was her granddaughter.
After a brief conversation with them, we were called back again. This time to see the nurse and the doctor. The nurse was in and out, and then we sat and waited patiently for a busy oncologist. The appointment went longer than anticipated because we need to discuss the side effects of the first treatment and the ways we could combat hose issues. The blood results were also great, except the ALT, but I had the alcohol..soo... And this reflects liver stuff. It was very low in a good way previously as I had not drank in the weeks leading up to that week, so I'm fairly confident that this is why those numbers were raised.
Anyhoo, after all of that we went back to the lobby to wait another 10 minutes for my infusion station to be ready. In the meantime, I gave information to the schedulers about the free wigs at a local mall related to cancer patients. A friend, Kathy had passed this along to me and I thought it would be great to share with the office. They were very excited about it and made up fliers immediately to share with the other patients. It felt nice to know that both my friend and I were able to help.
After my lunch order was taken we finally were called back. I dropped more brochures off at the station from my wig store that I loved. And then we got settled in. My mom started crocheting and I started pulling out my computer to email work. I forgot to set up my out of office email. I'm not used to being out like this.
My pictures of treatment this week turned into before and afters. It appears that 10 minutes after they injected the red devil, there was definitely a color change to my palor. My mom noticed it and I almost laughed, cause I felt it too.
Once it was 230, they were wrapping it up and putting the Nuelasta pack on me again.
The first few days I actually didn't feel too terrible. Okay, that's a lie, I did feel terrible, but the way I felt the days following those, I'd give anything to feel that good right now. Ugh!
The days that followed included some fun insomnia, rancid heartburn (in some ways worse than before), a counseling appointment, and another heart test. This was all the while my 40th birthday rolled around and we discovered shaving my head would also occur on this day due to the hair loss. It's been an adjustment and although I had picked out a wig and everything, suddenly I became self conscious about it.
I'm not looking forward to work either for all of these reasons. I'm embarrassed and I don't want pity. I share this story because like I've said before I love to write and I overshare, but it's in no means a cry for pity or attention. The embarrassment of all of this and feeling so horrible, it's very debilitating in so many ways. And sometimes you just want to crawl in bed and not get out, but you can't because you have a 5 year old or because heart burn is so bad you can't lay down or because everyone wants you to be happy and positive. It's exhausting. Worrying about money and the future and paperwork and other people's crap...it's so overwhelming I feel like I'm drowning..and I've only had two treatments.
This is definitely the part of the week where my writing is so lacking. I feel like a complete zombie right now, just trying to form a sentence. Until later...
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
Bridesmaids' Selecting Their Dresses - The Wedding
What a fabulous way to end my weekend before another fun week of chemo and recovery begins. Once again my wonderful friend Katie from California flew into town last minute, on a red eye, to come to another wedding event. The bridesmaid shopping.
Wait...red eye? What? Oh come on! I have this great friend, Uber... But in all seriousness, she did offer to take an Uber or a Lyft because she knew it was super late and both Kevin and I had to work early in the morning.
The irony was that I had a horrible time falling asleep because I was afraid I would oversleep and not hear her when she arrived in order to let her in. By the time I feel asleep, I probably only slept 10 minutes before the alarm went off at 1220 am.
She finally arrived around 1240 am and we talked for 5 minutes before we both rushed off to bed. Not only did Kevin (sweet fiance) and I have to work in the morning, but so did our guest. The life of a super smart program engineer. My other out of towner, Jen will do the same thing. Always having to take their work with them. I think there is this part of me that says I refuse to work that hard, but I guess between working full time, raising my daughter, planning a wedding, going through chemo, and still writing in numerous platforms, I guess I work hard. No wonder I have no time for cleaning. How on earth do I still feel lazy?
Okay, back to the point of all of this...
(I needed to post dresses on the evite) DONE. Now I can focus. Whew!
Bright and early I jetted off to work so I could rush back and spend time with my friend. (Hmmm...I'm not sure how that did anything for getting back sooner, I left at the same time at the end of the day? This brain is going to be a problem for awhile, bear with me.) The next day would be the big day of trying on dresses and just simply having a wonderful time. Food, drinks, and merriment.
Friday went by quickly and before I knew it I was back home...but my guest was gone. Where could she be? She had no vehicle with which to travel. As I set down my purse and looked for Kevin, I received a text. Ahhh! Katie was at the local Starbucks working (of course) and wanted a lift home. I got back in the car and rushed over to pick her up. (This woman was going to take a Lyft and the Starbucks is about a half a mile or so from my house.)
I pulled into the parking lot and spotted her right away in the window, ripping her hair out in front of a laptop. Work must be stressful. However, she was not literally ripping it out, but definitely grabbing at it in frustration. Did I mention how hard she works at her job? (My daughter saw her working at the house and wanted to be just like her and work like Katie. It was adorable).
I immediately texted her jokes.
"I see you"
"In the window"
"You are pretty...he he he"
"I'm your stalker"
"Is your phone on silent?"
Then there were gifs I sent of stalkers and things.
I finally went to facebook messenger. She was on a lap top and her phone must have died. Yet, I couldn't seem to get her attention via facebook either as it was a work computer and she is smart enough not to be on social media sites on a work computer. I even sent a picture of herself in the window to really be that creepy stalker and get her attention. She kept looking at the clock on the wall, expecting my arrival, so I guess the dream of not getting out of the car was not happening.
I popped in and called her name out. Nothing. I took another step in and called out louder. No response. Finally, "Katie!" I yelled. She turned around but not before a voice to my right yelled out my name. It was my Matron of Honor's (Melissa) youngest daughter. Man! They are getting so big and making me old.
Speaking of the Melissa, she was on our her to join the crowd at my house, so we needed to get going. Katie still had to work once we got back but after a few more hours she could relax with us til about midnight. We needed to get some rest. We had been late for the bridal fitting previously, and we were ensuring that we would be late again if we continued to stay up late and, drink...
The next day we arrived, Katie, Deb, and I to the dress shop and I believe all of them (of course) that could make it had beat us there. Six women got measured and we still have four left. It's a whole lot of ladies, but it's my wedding. I can do what I want. It's very freeing to say that and believe that. I can follow some traditions, but the reality is I can do whatever I want. So I will have the PAs and the ushers join the rest of the party at the head table. Why not? And the PAs were being fitted for dresses. Again, why not? The ushers tend to closely match the groomsmen in attire, so why shouldn't the PAs (Personal Attendants) match the Bridesmaids? And finally, I have another wonderful friend marrying us, another Angie (not photographed below). It couldn't be a better line up of awesome people representing me. Encompassing years of my life. It's beautiful.
Anyhow, I digress...the winning pics for the ladies in attendance are as follows... (and the other four will pick theirs at another date and they dodge the showcase on my blog...for now...mwahahaha!)
Misty = Bridesmaid/friends for about 15 years? Maybe 20. All dresses will be wine, but Misty's will be the short version of the above, no slit. I'm not sure what's happening with the hand...and I'm not sure we need to know.
Katie = Bridesmaid/friends since high school. Buying the dress off the rack and wearing it to a Christmas party. Getting her money's worth. She really wanted to wear it home on the plane, but I feared for the safety of the dress.
Tami = Bridesmaid/Cousin - This dress will also be purchased in the shorter version. The dresses are more matte/flat textured in the short version, but also not as shiny as some that were satin in nature, so I felt comfortable with it. I'm not a giant fan of satin, but less of the lace.
Maria = Personal Attendant/Security/Bouncer/Cousin - now I picture her giving me the look until I say, "Favorite Cousin" - After twisting her arm, I got her in a dress. There were several ladies who didn't like my picture taking skills. Hmm... I warned them that I was taking a picture, I held the phone up, and said here it goes. The faces the make is on them, not the photographer. :P
Deb = Bridesmaid/friends for 6 years - Deb and Maria like the same dress twice, but this was their final decision. I did listen to both Deb and Maria and cut out their socks. :D
Angie = Bridesmaid/friends since high school - And this is the exact dress she chose, other than the color. Three of the styles match and two others so far as well. I believe the Maid of Honor also liked this style that Angie, Misty, and Tami selected...so we'll see. :) And they have pockets! Woo hoo!
It must be added that this dress, shown below, was Tami's first pick. The best part of this dress was a picture I never got. They got the dress on her and it just didn't seem to look right. The front was tight and the back of it was completely loose and sagging. The back and front are exactly the same except for this sagging issue in the back. It also zipped on the side. After Maria examined her dress for about a minute, she stepped back and said, "Boo, you have it on backwards." Boobs in the front, Tam. We were all dying.
Then she gets it on and she is fiddling with the feathery extra material. This is where the dress got the kabash. She would be playing with that the entire wedding most likely, like a kid with their woobie. (I bet you thought I was gonna say something else...I would have said man...not kid.)
After they said yes to many dresses and paid, we went to lunch. After waiting 10 minutes to be seated at Buffalo Wild Wings, maybe 15 minutes, 6 of us were squeezed into a booth. Mind you, they thought we had 7. There was a table with 6 chairs, but that would be a fire hazard to add a chair to the end of the table. And I guess squeezing 7 adults into a booth really designed for 4 is not? Okay.
We ordered our drinks right away. (um..right away after she finally arrived about 10 minutes later. a total of 30 minutes passed, after being seated, and the restaurant had begun to empty a bit. The 6 chaired table sat empty the whole time and not bused. We had also been told if we didn't want the booth we would have to wait a half an hour for a new table. Salt in the wound as this table was right next to ours. People were still waiting in the entrance for a table, as well...really!?
I thought it was due to availability, but it not only took the girl 30 minutes to get to it, it also took her a good 10 minutes to clear it. No sight of our waitress other than her bringing drinks to a family that was seated about 15 minutes after us. Before words were spoken and spit was dropped in our food, we simply got up and left.
We headed across the road, and went to this place called the Machine Shed. It was a very good homestyle menu and cocktails weren't half bad either. I almost went into a state of panic, worried that they would not have drinks at this restaurant. It just had a vibe of no drinks. I should have known better, it was attached to a hotel.
Why so gung ho on the drinks, you ask? My only time to do the drinks. I felt good and I don't really want to drink at all on chemo, but with the special occasion I was leaving it for this weekend. To my relief they had a drink menu. I don't know that the other patrons liked our table talk, but whatever.
One thing I have realized as well, I'm not nearly as funny the week of a treatment, so I apologize for what comes out this week, if I'm even able to do this. I noticed last treatment it trailed off by the end of that week around the fourth day...which would be tomorrow. Today is my 40th birthday and tomorrow is Thanksgiving. The holidays will be a little lack luster for me this year. It's these moments with these wonderful women that help me to forget that I'm dealing with any of this at all.
And snuggles with my daughter and fiance, of course. :)
Wait...red eye? What? Oh come on! I have this great friend, Uber... But in all seriousness, she did offer to take an Uber or a Lyft because she knew it was super late and both Kevin and I had to work early in the morning.
The irony was that I had a horrible time falling asleep because I was afraid I would oversleep and not hear her when she arrived in order to let her in. By the time I feel asleep, I probably only slept 10 minutes before the alarm went off at 1220 am.
She finally arrived around 1240 am and we talked for 5 minutes before we both rushed off to bed. Not only did Kevin (sweet fiance) and I have to work in the morning, but so did our guest. The life of a super smart program engineer. My other out of towner, Jen will do the same thing. Always having to take their work with them. I think there is this part of me that says I refuse to work that hard, but I guess between working full time, raising my daughter, planning a wedding, going through chemo, and still writing in numerous platforms, I guess I work hard. No wonder I have no time for cleaning. How on earth do I still feel lazy?
Okay, back to the point of all of this...
(I needed to post dresses on the evite) DONE. Now I can focus. Whew!
Bright and early I jetted off to work so I could rush back and spend time with my friend. (Hmmm...I'm not sure how that did anything for getting back sooner, I left at the same time at the end of the day? This brain is going to be a problem for awhile, bear with me.) The next day would be the big day of trying on dresses and just simply having a wonderful time. Food, drinks, and merriment.
Friday went by quickly and before I knew it I was back home...but my guest was gone. Where could she be? She had no vehicle with which to travel. As I set down my purse and looked for Kevin, I received a text. Ahhh! Katie was at the local Starbucks working (of course) and wanted a lift home. I got back in the car and rushed over to pick her up. (This woman was going to take a Lyft and the Starbucks is about a half a mile or so from my house.)
I pulled into the parking lot and spotted her right away in the window, ripping her hair out in front of a laptop. Work must be stressful. However, she was not literally ripping it out, but definitely grabbing at it in frustration. Did I mention how hard she works at her job? (My daughter saw her working at the house and wanted to be just like her and work like Katie. It was adorable).
I immediately texted her jokes.
"I see you"
"In the window"
"You are pretty...he he he"
"I'm your stalker"
"Is your phone on silent?"
Then there were gifs I sent of stalkers and things.
I finally went to facebook messenger. She was on a lap top and her phone must have died. Yet, I couldn't seem to get her attention via facebook either as it was a work computer and she is smart enough not to be on social media sites on a work computer. I even sent a picture of herself in the window to really be that creepy stalker and get her attention. She kept looking at the clock on the wall, expecting my arrival, so I guess the dream of not getting out of the car was not happening.
I popped in and called her name out. Nothing. I took another step in and called out louder. No response. Finally, "Katie!" I yelled. She turned around but not before a voice to my right yelled out my name. It was my Matron of Honor's (Melissa) youngest daughter. Man! They are getting so big and making me old.
Speaking of the Melissa, she was on our her to join the crowd at my house, so we needed to get going. Katie still had to work once we got back but after a few more hours she could relax with us til about midnight. We needed to get some rest. We had been late for the bridal fitting previously, and we were ensuring that we would be late again if we continued to stay up late and, drink...
The next day we arrived, Katie, Deb, and I to the dress shop and I believe all of them (of course) that could make it had beat us there. Six women got measured and we still have four left. It's a whole lot of ladies, but it's my wedding. I can do what I want. It's very freeing to say that and believe that. I can follow some traditions, but the reality is I can do whatever I want. So I will have the PAs and the ushers join the rest of the party at the head table. Why not? And the PAs were being fitted for dresses. Again, why not? The ushers tend to closely match the groomsmen in attire, so why shouldn't the PAs (Personal Attendants) match the Bridesmaids? And finally, I have another wonderful friend marrying us, another Angie (not photographed below). It couldn't be a better line up of awesome people representing me. Encompassing years of my life. It's beautiful.
Anyhow, I digress...the winning pics for the ladies in attendance are as follows... (and the other four will pick theirs at another date and they dodge the showcase on my blog...for now...mwahahaha!)
It must be added that this dress, shown below, was Tami's first pick. The best part of this dress was a picture I never got. They got the dress on her and it just didn't seem to look right. The front was tight and the back of it was completely loose and sagging. The back and front are exactly the same except for this sagging issue in the back. It also zipped on the side. After Maria examined her dress for about a minute, she stepped back and said, "Boo, you have it on backwards." Boobs in the front, Tam. We were all dying.
Then she gets it on and she is fiddling with the feathery extra material. This is where the dress got the kabash. She would be playing with that the entire wedding most likely, like a kid with their woobie. (I bet you thought I was gonna say something else...I would have said man...not kid.)
After they said yes to many dresses and paid, we went to lunch. After waiting 10 minutes to be seated at Buffalo Wild Wings, maybe 15 minutes, 6 of us were squeezed into a booth. Mind you, they thought we had 7. There was a table with 6 chairs, but that would be a fire hazard to add a chair to the end of the table. And I guess squeezing 7 adults into a booth really designed for 4 is not? Okay.
We ordered our drinks right away. (um..right away after she finally arrived about 10 minutes later. a total of 30 minutes passed, after being seated, and the restaurant had begun to empty a bit. The 6 chaired table sat empty the whole time and not bused. We had also been told if we didn't want the booth we would have to wait a half an hour for a new table. Salt in the wound as this table was right next to ours. People were still waiting in the entrance for a table, as well...really!?
I thought it was due to availability, but it not only took the girl 30 minutes to get to it, it also took her a good 10 minutes to clear it. No sight of our waitress other than her bringing drinks to a family that was seated about 15 minutes after us. Before words were spoken and spit was dropped in our food, we simply got up and left.
We headed across the road, and went to this place called the Machine Shed. It was a very good homestyle menu and cocktails weren't half bad either. I almost went into a state of panic, worried that they would not have drinks at this restaurant. It just had a vibe of no drinks. I should have known better, it was attached to a hotel.
Why so gung ho on the drinks, you ask? My only time to do the drinks. I felt good and I don't really want to drink at all on chemo, but with the special occasion I was leaving it for this weekend. To my relief they had a drink menu. I don't know that the other patrons liked our table talk, but whatever.
One thing I have realized as well, I'm not nearly as funny the week of a treatment, so I apologize for what comes out this week, if I'm even able to do this. I noticed last treatment it trailed off by the end of that week around the fourth day...which would be tomorrow. Today is my 40th birthday and tomorrow is Thanksgiving. The holidays will be a little lack luster for me this year. It's these moments with these wonderful women that help me to forget that I'm dealing with any of this at all.
And snuggles with my daughter and fiance, of course. :)
Thursday, November 16, 2017
Bridal Dress Shopping - The Wedding
The first big event, besides the engagement itself and ordering of decorations, happened in October. I've been just a shade distracted with treatments, so hopefully my memory won't be too fuzzy.
To kick off the wonderful event two of my wonderful friends/bridesmaids came in from out of town to stay with me. My Maid of Honor from Arizona flew in and crashed with me on Friday and Saturday and my high school pal and bridesmaid from California arrived on Friday on the red eye.
Jen, the Maid of Honor, and myself stayed up late waiting for her flight to arrive. We finally headed out to get her and ended up circling the airport about 40 thousand times before we finally picked Katie up. I might have left a little early. I stress about airports.
If I'm not mistaken, we all went to bed right away as the bridal dress shopping was to commence relatively early in the morning. I was very excited to get there and try on dresses, but also extremely nervous. I had a couple of favorites that I hoped would be in stock at this particular store, but what if they didn't look good? What if they didn't have them? What if some of the stories people told me of dress shopping were true? So many times I would hear the bad experiences people would have with trying on dresses. Or read the reviews online. Stories of rude consultants or inattentive ones. Stories of botched alterations, though I have a lady so I didn't intend for the alterations to be done there. And finally bridesmaids turning into their own bridezillas.
Luckily, I had no real time to worry about that. The two out of towners were going to take my car and drive separate. They were out getting coffee, so myself and two other bridesmaids left ahead of them. Mel, the Matron of Honor and Deb, another great friend and bridesmaid. We were almost to the freeway when I received a call from Jen and Katie. There was some strange question regarding car keys. My car keys and where they were. Funny story. Only funny in hindsight as I write this. Apparently, as I was heading out of my garage to get into Deb's car, I for some insane reason, grabbed my car keys off the high top table. What on earth?
So back to the house we went, where we all departed at the same time and we were all late. I felt panicked, but to my relief it appeared that my mother and several others were late as well. We walked in and immediately were checked in. They had a list of my favorite dresses from the website. I was relieved and then suddenly overwhelmed when the rest of my bridesmaids began to come out of the woodwork. It was a hoard of women. I have 8, yes 8 bridesmaids. I also have 2 personal attendants and one of my friends since high school is my officiant. My mother also brought my sweet 14 year old brother who wanted to join. It was very cute that he wanted to be there, but I'm guessing he just didn't want to sit home alone. Ha! So besides me, there were 12 girls. I had gotten that number wrong earlier and thought 11, but whatever. I have a lot going on. People shouldn't rely on me for thinking.
Anyway, we definitely were a very intimidating group. We were directed to go about selecting (not touching, well remove dresses from the racks) dresses and let our consultant know which ones we wanted to try on. Too many ladies and it creates a vacuum of noise where they hear nothing, so some were scolded for taking the dresses down.
I found the two I wanted from the website and two other dresses were picked out for me by my lovely ladies. Once we had four solid picks, the consultant took me to a dressing room and the fun began. I had my breast biopsy not that long before, so the right side was a little sore. It didn't seem to bother me when she put on the bustier or the contraption that compressed all of my organs. Whatever it's called...oh, I still have to get one of those yet. And then came the dress parade. I am willing to share the pics of the dresses I didn't go with. So here we go...
Nothing makes a bride feel more beautiful than having the perfect bodied model trying on dresses directly behind her in all of her pictures. (It didn't bother me, I just found it ironically hysterical) When I had moved around the store, I noticed the girl next to me and her one friend. She looked happy trying on dresses. I went to the other side and noticed another woman trying on dresses with some bridesmaids. She didn't look very content at that very moment. I wondered how things were going there and hoped that it was just that one dress she didn't like. But I looked at my huge group of friends and family and was thankful. Even at the largest I have ever been in my life (I do hope to change that in the near future), I was still happy and still felt beautiful. Even with the beautiful woman directly behind me.
The experience was even more fun with the cute signs one of my personal attendant's Gina made. The fun creative signs to help vote on the dresses as I tried them on. My other personal attendant and cousin, Maria, is my solid rock and voluntary bouncer. She is almost hoping someone messes up just so she can utilize this part of her job title.
It was such a fun experience feeling spoiled by the consultant and my friends as they took pictures and made me feel like a princess. I have never had the experience of dress shopping and it did not disappoint. Though it could have been made better with champagne and the consultant agreed. To make up for that we all went to lunch directly afterward at Red Lobster. I had been craving seafood for such a long time.
Before we did that I still had to pick a dress. I went back to my number one fav. The first one I loved online, the first and the last one I tried on at the store. (not pictured of course) It was just the one I knew was the one when I saw it in pictures.
I even got to ring a bell and say yes to the dress. Just like the show! And then we did a group picture...we are short one bridesmaid in this picture. Those dang out of staters.
To kick off the wonderful event two of my wonderful friends/bridesmaids came in from out of town to stay with me. My Maid of Honor from Arizona flew in and crashed with me on Friday and Saturday and my high school pal and bridesmaid from California arrived on Friday on the red eye.
Jen, the Maid of Honor, and myself stayed up late waiting for her flight to arrive. We finally headed out to get her and ended up circling the airport about 40 thousand times before we finally picked Katie up. I might have left a little early. I stress about airports.
If I'm not mistaken, we all went to bed right away as the bridal dress shopping was to commence relatively early in the morning. I was very excited to get there and try on dresses, but also extremely nervous. I had a couple of favorites that I hoped would be in stock at this particular store, but what if they didn't look good? What if they didn't have them? What if some of the stories people told me of dress shopping were true? So many times I would hear the bad experiences people would have with trying on dresses. Or read the reviews online. Stories of rude consultants or inattentive ones. Stories of botched alterations, though I have a lady so I didn't intend for the alterations to be done there. And finally bridesmaids turning into their own bridezillas.
Luckily, I had no real time to worry about that. The two out of towners were going to take my car and drive separate. They were out getting coffee, so myself and two other bridesmaids left ahead of them. Mel, the Matron of Honor and Deb, another great friend and bridesmaid. We were almost to the freeway when I received a call from Jen and Katie. There was some strange question regarding car keys. My car keys and where they were. Funny story. Only funny in hindsight as I write this. Apparently, as I was heading out of my garage to get into Deb's car, I for some insane reason, grabbed my car keys off the high top table. What on earth?
So back to the house we went, where we all departed at the same time and we were all late. I felt panicked, but to my relief it appeared that my mother and several others were late as well. We walked in and immediately were checked in. They had a list of my favorite dresses from the website. I was relieved and then suddenly overwhelmed when the rest of my bridesmaids began to come out of the woodwork. It was a hoard of women. I have 8, yes 8 bridesmaids. I also have 2 personal attendants and one of my friends since high school is my officiant. My mother also brought my sweet 14 year old brother who wanted to join. It was very cute that he wanted to be there, but I'm guessing he just didn't want to sit home alone. Ha! So besides me, there were 12 girls. I had gotten that number wrong earlier and thought 11, but whatever. I have a lot going on. People shouldn't rely on me for thinking.
Anyway, we definitely were a very intimidating group. We were directed to go about selecting (not touching, well remove dresses from the racks) dresses and let our consultant know which ones we wanted to try on. Too many ladies and it creates a vacuum of noise where they hear nothing, so some were scolded for taking the dresses down.
I found the two I wanted from the website and two other dresses were picked out for me by my lovely ladies. Once we had four solid picks, the consultant took me to a dressing room and the fun began. I had my breast biopsy not that long before, so the right side was a little sore. It didn't seem to bother me when she put on the bustier or the contraption that compressed all of my organs. Whatever it's called...oh, I still have to get one of those yet. And then came the dress parade. I am willing to share the pics of the dresses I didn't go with. So here we go...
Nothing makes a bride feel more beautiful than having the perfect bodied model trying on dresses directly behind her in all of her pictures. (It didn't bother me, I just found it ironically hysterical) When I had moved around the store, I noticed the girl next to me and her one friend. She looked happy trying on dresses. I went to the other side and noticed another woman trying on dresses with some bridesmaids. She didn't look very content at that very moment. I wondered how things were going there and hoped that it was just that one dress she didn't like. But I looked at my huge group of friends and family and was thankful. Even at the largest I have ever been in my life (I do hope to change that in the near future), I was still happy and still felt beautiful. Even with the beautiful woman directly behind me.
The experience was even more fun with the cute signs one of my personal attendant's Gina made. The fun creative signs to help vote on the dresses as I tried them on. My other personal attendant and cousin, Maria, is my solid rock and voluntary bouncer. She is almost hoping someone messes up just so she can utilize this part of her job title.
It was such a fun experience feeling spoiled by the consultant and my friends as they took pictures and made me feel like a princess. I have never had the experience of dress shopping and it did not disappoint. Though it could have been made better with champagne and the consultant agreed. To make up for that we all went to lunch directly afterward at Red Lobster. I had been craving seafood for such a long time.
Before we did that I still had to pick a dress. I went back to my number one fav. The first one I loved online, the first and the last one I tried on at the store. (not pictured of course) It was just the one I knew was the one when I saw it in pictures.
I even got to ring a bell and say yes to the dress. Just like the show! And then we did a group picture...we are short one bridesmaid in this picture. Those dang out of staters.
Now for the part I had been looking forward to all week...a delicious lunch and some cocktails. Seafood and drinks. Life couldn't be better at that very moment. It is not easy keeping up with such a large group conversationally, but hopefully the girls entertained themselves thoroughly. And of course it wasn't easy for the waiters either.
My Matron of Honor and Maid of Honor gave a speech and I spent an entire hour trying to open crab legs. Worth it. I should probably eat that every day. Just the sheer amount of time it takes to eat 5 legs would definitely be the best weight loss program ever. Though I hear shellfish isn't great for chemo ??? Not like I have been doing anything geared towards what's the best for chemo so far. My plan is to be better next week. Well, I will have little choice. The week of treatment I want nothing to eat and the week after I can't stop eating. This week I have been out of control. Part of me hoped to get that forced weight loss as a "benefit".
Every bride wants to lose weight and I have put on more weight since losing my brother. Time to dust of self pity and do the best I can to stay healthy going forward. Looking forward to this Saturday when the bridesmaids are on deck for dresses and cocktails. I haven't had drinks since treatment started...should be interesting. I may not want any cocktails. So unlike me. How on earth will I be funny? If I ever was...
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
Will The Real Hell Week Please Stand Up?
So the week of appointments does not hold a candle to how I felt the week following the appointments. The week the treatments began took the cake. All I can say is...
After the infusion last week I felt nauseated and tired. A couple of hours after the treatment and most of the week, actually. How good I feel right now has made it very clear how potent that treatment is and I'm definitely not looking forward to next week. Though my appetite has returned in full swing...dangit, so much for weight loss. Maybe I'll maintain.
By the time my counseling appointment rolled around on Wednesday, I decided, okay I'll just go to work on Thursday. I should be feeling better by then. Wrong! That is when it increased horribly on the pain and suffering scale. The nausea meds only curbed the vomiting, but didn't stop the nausea. I'm unsure where to go with the details on this as to not overshare more than I already do. (Please keep in mind, I'm chatty and I'm a writer, so if the information is more than you want to know, please don't read. However, I promise I won't let it get too graphic.)
So constipation was the next thing to kick in. (And here, I just said I wasn't going to let it get too graphic. ha!) I was getting worried and the nurse line at the hospital also joined me on the worry train. They told me (as I was already taking "softners" since the day of infusion) to take this "magnesium citrate"? I love that they try to give a fun flavor of cherry to it. As I drank it I imagined if this is what that red devil chemo tasted like, and wondered if it did the same things to my veins as this citrate was doing to my esophagus. Like drinking the blood of the aliens from the movie, well.. Aliens. You know, pure acid. And then Milk of Magnesia mixed with prune juice was next. It sounds grosser than it tastes and it was a nice relief after the burning of the citrate. Did I mention that already? Okay, I'll move on. One thing I can't debate is that either one or the both worked. I could finally move on with my life. Or so I thought...
Friday came and sadly I immediately felt like I was going to throw up. Another day bites the dust on the work front. I was hoping to meet some mysterious and obviously unattainable goal of being tougher than the toxins in my veins.
Not only did work become this impossible feat, but they wanted me to move around daily. How on earth was I to move around when I was nauseated, constipated, tired, and beginning to feel depressed? My poor daughter was home with me at times too because I couldn't get her to daycare. I wouldn't trust my ability to drive the way I was feeling. This likely added to the depression knowing that I was subjecting her to this. Shockingly, it still was to get worse.
Saturday, the heartburn began to rear it's ugly head. I think I had been doing great with the water and taking my meds, but I won't lie... the food...not great. I kind of eat whatever if I'm hungry because the first few days I'm not hungry at all. (I talk as if I have been doing this for weeks. Solely based on one week, this is what I have discovered.)
Just to preface, I had been taking tums each night at this point, and now the heartburn was continuing to increase and literally burn through those sardonic "mints". Radiating beams of pain would shoot across my chest and down to my stomach each time I swallowed. Nothing I took seem to help. Milk extinguished the flames for a minute. I would lay my head to one side and I would try to sleep for about a half an hour before it started again. The moment I moved my head the heat would rise. Tears popped into the corners of my eyes and frustration burned hotter than the reflux.
I began to cry each time and my chest would expand out and contort. Somewhere in my mind this seemed to make it less painful. I called the doctor and they prescribed a strong medication. I was going to wait for Kevin to get home from work, but as it rolled around to 200 pm I couldn't take it anymore. My daughter was playing nurse, but this couldn't go on. (Literally, it couldn't go on. She isn't trained or educated. And cute as it was, a blanket being pulled up to my neck really did little more than distract me from my self pity and pain.) My stepdad finally grabbed my little brother and my prescription and dropped them both off at my house. My daughter's birthday party was the next day and my little brother was scheduled to join us anyway.
I immediately took the pill and laid back down on the couch, waiting for the sweet relief of modern science. An hour later my thoughtful fiance arrived home and tried to console me by rubbing my head, but nothing had changed. I was still in immense pain and maybe now scaring and scarring the 14 year old brother with my breathing and chest contorting that likely resembled an exorcism.
Kevin got into his home pj outfit and relaxed in the garage, but I got on the phone. I couldn't take it anymore. After the many hours of writhing in agony (yes, I'm exaggerating...but what a boring story without it. I'm very dramatic and in hindsight it explains my daughter. Sometimes you are just to close to it. Anyhoo...), they wanted me to go to the emergency room. (that's not an exaggeration)
I didn't want to go anywhere, but I couldn't be in this pain anymore. We got bundled up and left my brother to watch my daughter, not realizing how long this might take. (My smart mother ended up picking them both up later for the night, and took them to Applebees...man, that sounds so yummy!)
As we were on our way it struck me that I was likely going to be stuck with a bunch of needles again. I knew there was no way around it. FUUUDDDGGGEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm done with needles already and the more times I'm stuck the more my fear and anxiety about them increases. Honestly, if they want to do a hand IV to me again, they will likely have to punch me in the face or hold me down. And even though the port was no big deal pain wise, I'm oddly afraid of the next time they have to access it.
Lucky for me, (wait..what?) the continuing chest pain helped me forget my fear of needles the rest of the drive in. We entered the emergency room and I was checked in right away. After a brief EKG I was given a room. They believed it to be heartburn, but being a cancer patient they had to be safe and be sure that it wasn't heart issues or a blood clot in the lungs. So, we got settled in for a long night and I got that damn IV. But in my arm..good veins and not very painful of a process. Whew! But every time they came in the room, I braced myself for another poke. Sure they could have used my port, but like I said...scared again. I'll have to use it next week, so I better get over it before then.
After a long night of sitting/laying, getting an X Ray, blood tests, and liquid Novocaine/lydocaine it was determined to be extremely (medical term) bad heartburn. A stronger medication was added. Though I still had the pain, once I took the chalky giant pill it wasn't long before it finally calmed down and I could sleep.
The next morning I felt so much better and was able to take my daughter to play for her birthday as scheduled. Every so often, I can feel the heartburn trying to break out again, but I have felt so good the last few days. The new found symptom of mouth sores and dryness is not a fun thing to experience, but hey, I can converse with people, go to work, play with my daughter, write this blog and have a sense of humor about it.
This weekend I am looking so forward to my bridesmaids trying on their dresses and then going out for maybe one drink...we'll see. And putting up my tree because I likely won't want to next weekend.
There have been several times already that I justed wanted to stop this treatment. Whenever it's horrible or I think it's at the worst, I think, What in the hell? Why am I doing this to myself? Who needs an additional 5% survivability? (Seriously, one week and I have thought this several times already). I try to remember, best case scenario, grandchildren, etc...keep moving forward.
I know my experience isn't the worst that can be experienced. But I do have to stop feeling bad about feeling bad too. I have to stop worrying about what others might think. A friend told me that this journey would change me and I can see how it will. It's cheesy and it's overused, but life is short and at the same time it's long. Life should be lived to the fullest. Not like someone who wants to live forever and not like someone who expects to die tomorrow, but just enjoying the moments you have, and not stressing about the things you simply can't control.
After the infusion last week I felt nauseated and tired. A couple of hours after the treatment and most of the week, actually. How good I feel right now has made it very clear how potent that treatment is and I'm definitely not looking forward to next week. Though my appetite has returned in full swing...dangit, so much for weight loss. Maybe I'll maintain.
By the time my counseling appointment rolled around on Wednesday, I decided, okay I'll just go to work on Thursday. I should be feeling better by then. Wrong! That is when it increased horribly on the pain and suffering scale. The nausea meds only curbed the vomiting, but didn't stop the nausea. I'm unsure where to go with the details on this as to not overshare more than I already do. (Please keep in mind, I'm chatty and I'm a writer, so if the information is more than you want to know, please don't read. However, I promise I won't let it get too graphic.)
So constipation was the next thing to kick in. (And here, I just said I wasn't going to let it get too graphic. ha!) I was getting worried and the nurse line at the hospital also joined me on the worry train. They told me (as I was already taking "softners" since the day of infusion) to take this "magnesium citrate"? I love that they try to give a fun flavor of cherry to it. As I drank it I imagined if this is what that red devil chemo tasted like, and wondered if it did the same things to my veins as this citrate was doing to my esophagus. Like drinking the blood of the aliens from the movie, well.. Aliens. You know, pure acid. And then Milk of Magnesia mixed with prune juice was next. It sounds grosser than it tastes and it was a nice relief after the burning of the citrate. Did I mention that already? Okay, I'll move on. One thing I can't debate is that either one or the both worked. I could finally move on with my life. Or so I thought...
Not only did work become this impossible feat, but they wanted me to move around daily. How on earth was I to move around when I was nauseated, constipated, tired, and beginning to feel depressed? My poor daughter was home with me at times too because I couldn't get her to daycare. I wouldn't trust my ability to drive the way I was feeling. This likely added to the depression knowing that I was subjecting her to this. Shockingly, it still was to get worse.
Saturday, the heartburn began to rear it's ugly head. I think I had been doing great with the water and taking my meds, but I won't lie... the food...not great. I kind of eat whatever if I'm hungry because the first few days I'm not hungry at all. (I talk as if I have been doing this for weeks. Solely based on one week, this is what I have discovered.)
Just to preface, I had been taking tums each night at this point, and now the heartburn was continuing to increase and literally burn through those sardonic "mints". Radiating beams of pain would shoot across my chest and down to my stomach each time I swallowed. Nothing I took seem to help. Milk extinguished the flames for a minute. I would lay my head to one side and I would try to sleep for about a half an hour before it started again. The moment I moved my head the heat would rise. Tears popped into the corners of my eyes and frustration burned hotter than the reflux.
I began to cry each time and my chest would expand out and contort. Somewhere in my mind this seemed to make it less painful. I called the doctor and they prescribed a strong medication. I was going to wait for Kevin to get home from work, but as it rolled around to 200 pm I couldn't take it anymore. My daughter was playing nurse, but this couldn't go on. (Literally, it couldn't go on. She isn't trained or educated. And cute as it was, a blanket being pulled up to my neck really did little more than distract me from my self pity and pain.) My stepdad finally grabbed my little brother and my prescription and dropped them both off at my house. My daughter's birthday party was the next day and my little brother was scheduled to join us anyway.
I immediately took the pill and laid back down on the couch, waiting for the sweet relief of modern science. An hour later my thoughtful fiance arrived home and tried to console me by rubbing my head, but nothing had changed. I was still in immense pain and maybe now scaring and scarring the 14 year old brother with my breathing and chest contorting that likely resembled an exorcism.
Kevin got into his home pj outfit and relaxed in the garage, but I got on the phone. I couldn't take it anymore. After the many hours of writhing in agony (yes, I'm exaggerating...but what a boring story without it. I'm very dramatic and in hindsight it explains my daughter. Sometimes you are just to close to it. Anyhoo...), they wanted me to go to the emergency room. (that's not an exaggeration)
I didn't want to go anywhere, but I couldn't be in this pain anymore. We got bundled up and left my brother to watch my daughter, not realizing how long this might take. (My smart mother ended up picking them both up later for the night, and took them to Applebees...man, that sounds so yummy!)
As we were on our way it struck me that I was likely going to be stuck with a bunch of needles again. I knew there was no way around it. FUUUDDDGGGEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm done with needles already and the more times I'm stuck the more my fear and anxiety about them increases. Honestly, if they want to do a hand IV to me again, they will likely have to punch me in the face or hold me down. And even though the port was no big deal pain wise, I'm oddly afraid of the next time they have to access it.
Lucky for me, (wait..what?) the continuing chest pain helped me forget my fear of needles the rest of the drive in. We entered the emergency room and I was checked in right away. After a brief EKG I was given a room. They believed it to be heartburn, but being a cancer patient they had to be safe and be sure that it wasn't heart issues or a blood clot in the lungs. So, we got settled in for a long night and I got that damn IV. But in my arm..good veins and not very painful of a process. Whew! But every time they came in the room, I braced myself for another poke. Sure they could have used my port, but like I said...scared again. I'll have to use it next week, so I better get over it before then.
After a long night of sitting/laying, getting an X Ray, blood tests, and liquid Novocaine/lydocaine it was determined to be extremely (medical term) bad heartburn. A stronger medication was added. Though I still had the pain, once I took the chalky giant pill it wasn't long before it finally calmed down and I could sleep.
The next morning I felt so much better and was able to take my daughter to play for her birthday as scheduled. Every so often, I can feel the heartburn trying to break out again, but I have felt so good the last few days. The new found symptom of mouth sores and dryness is not a fun thing to experience, but hey, I can converse with people, go to work, play with my daughter, write this blog and have a sense of humor about it.
There have been several times already that I justed wanted to stop this treatment. Whenever it's horrible or I think it's at the worst, I think, What in the hell? Why am I doing this to myself? Who needs an additional 5% survivability? (Seriously, one week and I have thought this several times already). I try to remember, best case scenario, grandchildren, etc...keep moving forward.
I know my experience isn't the worst that can be experienced. But I do have to stop feeling bad about feeling bad too. I have to stop worrying about what others might think. A friend told me that this journey would change me and I can see how it will. It's cheesy and it's overused, but life is short and at the same time it's long. Life should be lived to the fullest. Not like someone who wants to live forever and not like someone who expects to die tomorrow, but just enjoying the moments you have, and not stressing about the things you simply can't control.
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