I have a 23 year old son living and attending school in the NC mountains. He is working this summer as a camp counselor at an adventure camp for kids with learning disabilities and ADD. He will spend his days rafting, kayaking, rock climbing, and camping in the back country. Tough life but he says he will muddle though.
He has grown into a wonderful person. Compassionate, conversational, kind, loving, and very smart. His gift is in working with the disabled, particularly children. His grades are strong and he is already active in his professional organizations. While I appreciate the person he has become, he wasn't always such a gem. In fact, for quite a number of years, he was a significant pain in the ass. For real.
On occasion, I tell him he is lucky to be alive. He is lucky I did not kill him at some point during his "bad boy" years. These days, he is lucky to be alive for different reasons. He regularly does rock climbing, crazy jumps into waterfalls, and probably other things its best for me to not know about. I try not to watch the videos he posts to his FaceBook page on his outdoor shenanigans.
Early on, I was concerned about his reaction to my diagnosis. I toyed with the idea of not telling him until treatment was done. But I became concerned that something bad might happen during the surgeries or treatment, and he would be angry forever that he wasn't told. He handled the news beautifully. He is an emotional rock. I underestimated him.
These days, while breast cancer is mucking with my life, I am surprised to find that talking to him - or better yet - seeing him, makes a significant difference in my mood. It makes me happy in a way that little else can these days. I have seen him three times since my diagnosis. Twice for a week and once for just a 1/2 day. I come away from those visits happy. I would feel happy to see him even if I were healthy, but somehow being sick makes it very different.
I look for the goodness in him. I look for signs that I've done my job as a parent, and if my life ended today, I would leave him in a good place to continue to grow as a human being and to maturely handle what life might throw at him. We are all going to lose our parents at some point. It's the natural cycle of life, how God intends it. Knowing he will handle losing me - whenever it might happen - without letting it ruin his life is very important to me.
I haven't always been able to use the word "mature" when referring to him, but now I think I can. It feels oh so good.
At last.
5/30/12
5/23/12
Do It Or Die
One of my sources of support throughout my cancer crisis has been the message forums on a few of the more reputable web sites like BreastCancer.Org and the Susan G. Komen site. Early on, someone advised me to stay off the internet in this regard, but I found that advice slightly insulting, as though I'm not smart enough to know good information from bad.
Generally, these forums are full of good dependable information and support from the "sisters". (I'm still coming to terms with some of the more popular Breast Cancer terms like "sisters", "survivor", and "journey".) However, once in a while, I read something that would suggest I'd best start planning my funeral, just to get a jump on things.
For instance, I have a particular sub-type of breast cancer known as Triple Negative. Not much is known about this sub-type except it is aggressive and doesn't respond at all to hormonal therapy, only to chemotherapy. It has a high rate of recurrence in bad places. A kind lady posted recently on BreastCancer.Org that since she was TN, 62 years old, and a healthcare professional who knows how these things go, she is choosing to forego chemo hell and live the rest of her days as best she can since we all know the survival rate beyond 5 years sucks.
Whoa! Now, I've heard this before, and in fact...my medical oncologist even said as much, except in a much more optimistic fashion. IE, if you DON'T have chemo and you DON'T take this VERY seriously, it will kill you. Mostly, everything I've read - and I have made it my responsibility to educate myself on my own illness - indicates that yes...the recurrence rate is high and yes...it's aggressive...HOWEVER, the survival rates are good IF you suck it up and take the chemo and do the million other things you are told to do by your doctors.
Maybe that makes me a conformist. Because, all I can say is YES MAAM, I will have the chemo and I will do whatever I am told to do to be sure I am not dead in 5 years. I am 52 years old. Waaayyy too young to start putting in calls to the funeral home to arrange my next life.
On the other hand, maybe the early advice I received was right....stay off the internet. But I really don't think so. I think its good to know - and understand - all the options. I am an intelligent thoughtful woman...I can read something, consider its worth, and take it or toss it. Cause I'm smart.
The worth of the forum post re opting out of chemo? Zip. It's her right. I'm sure she is smart and thoughtful too. She just chooses to approach it differently. Or maybe - and I think this is more likely - she is just in a place where she is overwhelmed with the illness and information being thrown at her. Next week, she'll feel differently. Or maybe her family will beat some sense into her. Or get a court order forcing her to do what is necessary to save her own life. Or maybe she'll live the rest of her life on her own terms. Which is how it should be.
Me? I'm conforming. I'm doing the chemo, even though I dread each session more and more. Chemo makes me sick and depressed. Doing it anyhow doesn't mean I'm strong. It means I'm weak because I am afraid not to do the chemo. I am afraid of the consequences.
My prediction? I'm going to live a long while yet. I'll likely see a recurrence and I'll likely take more chemo to fight it....down the road. I'll deal with it. Cancer will probably be what sends me to the great beyond. Someday. But for today...I'm trudging through these 8 cycles of chemo hell cause to do otherwise is giving up. No matter how sick and depressed I feel, giving up isn't in my DNA.
Generally, these forums are full of good dependable information and support from the "sisters". (I'm still coming to terms with some of the more popular Breast Cancer terms like "sisters", "survivor", and "journey".) However, once in a while, I read something that would suggest I'd best start planning my funeral, just to get a jump on things.
For instance, I have a particular sub-type of breast cancer known as Triple Negative. Not much is known about this sub-type except it is aggressive and doesn't respond at all to hormonal therapy, only to chemotherapy. It has a high rate of recurrence in bad places. A kind lady posted recently on BreastCancer.Org that since she was TN, 62 years old, and a healthcare professional who knows how these things go, she is choosing to forego chemo hell and live the rest of her days as best she can since we all know the survival rate beyond 5 years sucks.
Whoa! Now, I've heard this before, and in fact...my medical oncologist even said as much, except in a much more optimistic fashion. IE, if you DON'T have chemo and you DON'T take this VERY seriously, it will kill you. Mostly, everything I've read - and I have made it my responsibility to educate myself on my own illness - indicates that yes...the recurrence rate is high and yes...it's aggressive...HOWEVER, the survival rates are good IF you suck it up and take the chemo and do the million other things you are told to do by your doctors.
Maybe that makes me a conformist. Because, all I can say is YES MAAM, I will have the chemo and I will do whatever I am told to do to be sure I am not dead in 5 years. I am 52 years old. Waaayyy too young to start putting in calls to the funeral home to arrange my next life.
On the other hand, maybe the early advice I received was right....stay off the internet. But I really don't think so. I think its good to know - and understand - all the options. I am an intelligent thoughtful woman...I can read something, consider its worth, and take it or toss it. Cause I'm smart.
The worth of the forum post re opting out of chemo? Zip. It's her right. I'm sure she is smart and thoughtful too. She just chooses to approach it differently. Or maybe - and I think this is more likely - she is just in a place where she is overwhelmed with the illness and information being thrown at her. Next week, she'll feel differently. Or maybe her family will beat some sense into her. Or get a court order forcing her to do what is necessary to save her own life. Or maybe she'll live the rest of her life on her own terms. Which is how it should be.
Me? I'm conforming. I'm doing the chemo, even though I dread each session more and more. Chemo makes me sick and depressed. Doing it anyhow doesn't mean I'm strong. It means I'm weak because I am afraid not to do the chemo. I am afraid of the consequences.
My prediction? I'm going to live a long while yet. I'll likely see a recurrence and I'll likely take more chemo to fight it....down the road. I'll deal with it. Cancer will probably be what sends me to the great beyond. Someday. But for today...I'm trudging through these 8 cycles of chemo hell cause to do otherwise is giving up. No matter how sick and depressed I feel, giving up isn't in my DNA.
5/20/12
Legally Bald
It's official. Well, almost. Except for a few patches here and there, I'm bald.
Hair on top of my head is almost gone, eyebrows are running a close second. I still have eyelashes. I'm told they'll be the last to go.
What I want to know is when the hell is the hair on my legs gonna fall out?? I can't shave and I have dark hair and fair skin. Come on, already. Fall out, would ya!?!?
Had the head hair buzzed last week in anticipation of losing it. I didn't want clumps of it falling out on the floor or in the bed. Or on the sofa where I spent inordinate amounts of time these days.
I expected it to start falling out on Friday, about 48 hours post second chemo. It hung in there on Friday. And on Saturday. Then, this morning, sitting on the sofa...I put my hand to my head and brought back clumps of hair. I could literally pull my hair right out of my head. It was the most bizarre thing. Didn't hurt a bit, but it brought immediate tears.
Moments later, my friend Trish has me out on the deck with the buzz clippers taking care of whatever hair was left on top of my head. What an Angel. It must have taken a lot of love and strength for her to stand behind me and rid me of my remaining hair...all while chatting about her dog, the neighbors, and yes...how much better I looked. Bald. God bless Trish.
God bless Laura who loaded me in her car and took me to buy a wig. And then loaded me up a week later to go have the initial buzz and wig trim. THEN she took me home with her and handed me a magic marker to write all the hateful things about having cancer on a plastic sheet of bubbles. With glass of wine in hand, and music rolling, we danced and stomped all over that sheet of bubbles stomping the hell out of cancer.
God bless Wilda who also took me wig shopping. And had to hug me while I cried over the ugly wigs that lay on the table in front of me.
I don't know that I'll ever be one of those women who embraces her baldness. I'm not loving it although I will admit it sure makes the morning routine go a lot faster. And my bathroom counter looks much nicer without all the brushes, combs, and hair dryer. And it's cooler. North Carolina summers can be brutal.
I'm not ready to go out in public without a hair covering. Don't want to scare the neighbors or small children. But I do get a sense of freedom from walking around my own house bald. There's no one here but me and my dog. He still looks at me with the same big loving cocker spaniel eyes. God bless Jack.
Hair on top of my head is almost gone, eyebrows are running a close second. I still have eyelashes. I'm told they'll be the last to go.
What I want to know is when the hell is the hair on my legs gonna fall out?? I can't shave and I have dark hair and fair skin. Come on, already. Fall out, would ya!?!?
Had the head hair buzzed last week in anticipation of losing it. I didn't want clumps of it falling out on the floor or in the bed. Or on the sofa where I spent inordinate amounts of time these days.
I expected it to start falling out on Friday, about 48 hours post second chemo. It hung in there on Friday. And on Saturday. Then, this morning, sitting on the sofa...I put my hand to my head and brought back clumps of hair. I could literally pull my hair right out of my head. It was the most bizarre thing. Didn't hurt a bit, but it brought immediate tears.
Moments later, my friend Trish has me out on the deck with the buzz clippers taking care of whatever hair was left on top of my head. What an Angel. It must have taken a lot of love and strength for her to stand behind me and rid me of my remaining hair...all while chatting about her dog, the neighbors, and yes...how much better I looked. Bald. God bless Trish.
God bless Laura who loaded me in her car and took me to buy a wig. And then loaded me up a week later to go have the initial buzz and wig trim. THEN she took me home with her and handed me a magic marker to write all the hateful things about having cancer on a plastic sheet of bubbles. With glass of wine in hand, and music rolling, we danced and stomped all over that sheet of bubbles stomping the hell out of cancer.
God bless Wilda who also took me wig shopping. And had to hug me while I cried over the ugly wigs that lay on the table in front of me.
I don't know that I'll ever be one of those women who embraces her baldness. I'm not loving it although I will admit it sure makes the morning routine go a lot faster. And my bathroom counter looks much nicer without all the brushes, combs, and hair dryer. And it's cooler. North Carolina summers can be brutal.
I'm not ready to go out in public without a hair covering. Don't want to scare the neighbors or small children. But I do get a sense of freedom from walking around my own house bald. There's no one here but me and my dog. He still looks at me with the same big loving cocker spaniel eyes. God bless Jack.
5/18/12
Chemo: Round Two
Two chemo cycles down, six to go. I've started marking them on the calendar. It helps to see an end to my chemo hell.
Still, knowing there may be more chemo in my future depending on how gracefully my chemo cells die baby die. Recurrence. I'm not even rid of my present before I'm considering my future. Is that pessimistically weird or is it realistic?
Chemo was on Wednesday. I went back today for the Neulasta shot and additional IV fluids so maybe I won't crash this time on day 4 like last time. No crashes. They are cruel. They make me think I'm bitch enough to handle chemo, and then remind me that I'm nothing but a wuss. Smack me down.
Worst side effect so far this time is the fatigue and thirst. Got a little something extra in the IV today for the break through nausea. WooHoo. That's the next best thing to a glass of really good Chardonnay.
I've discovered that when you are touched by death (not my own, thankfully) and cancer (my own, unfortunately), you develop a really morbid sense of humor. So you'll just have to hang in there with me in that regard. Ain't going away any time soon.
I hated the port initially. The total failure of anesthesia when implanted and the on-going soreness put it high on my S list. But now, I'm loving it. I don't even feel the prick when they put the needle in and we use it for the blood draws, chemo poison, fluids, shots, etc. Hated it now I love it. See? Even the loss of a tiny little pain prick is a win.
Hated it now I love it. That can be said for quite a few things in my life, interestingly. Like the chemo suite at my cancer center. It used to seriously intimidate me. Now, it is strangely comforting to me. It's the place we're gonna kick my cancer in the ass. Yes. It is.
Still, knowing there may be more chemo in my future depending on how gracefully my chemo cells die baby die. Recurrence. I'm not even rid of my present before I'm considering my future. Is that pessimistically weird or is it realistic?
Chemo was on Wednesday. I went back today for the Neulasta shot and additional IV fluids so maybe I won't crash this time on day 4 like last time. No crashes. They are cruel. They make me think I'm bitch enough to handle chemo, and then remind me that I'm nothing but a wuss. Smack me down.
Worst side effect so far this time is the fatigue and thirst. Got a little something extra in the IV today for the break through nausea. WooHoo. That's the next best thing to a glass of really good Chardonnay.
I've discovered that when you are touched by death (not my own, thankfully) and cancer (my own, unfortunately), you develop a really morbid sense of humor. So you'll just have to hang in there with me in that regard. Ain't going away any time soon.
I hated the port initially. The total failure of anesthesia when implanted and the on-going soreness put it high on my S list. But now, I'm loving it. I don't even feel the prick when they put the needle in and we use it for the blood draws, chemo poison, fluids, shots, etc. Hated it now I love it. See? Even the loss of a tiny little pain prick is a win.
Hated it now I love it. That can be said for quite a few things in my life, interestingly. Like the chemo suite at my cancer center. It used to seriously intimidate me. Now, it is strangely comforting to me. It's the place we're gonna kick my cancer in the ass. Yes. It is.
5/15/12
Let's talk Cost
Blue Cross/Blue Shield's initiative Let's Talk Cost has been around for a couple of years now. I paid no attention. I understood the cost of healthcare was astronomical simply because of my work in healthcare IT and what I heard on the news. Being a healthy person, I didn't know what healthcare really costs until I got sick.
Sheeze Louise. Boy did I ever get an education on the cost of healthcare once my medical bills started rolling in last month. I am a BCBS customer and I am fortunate to have a good policy that will cover most of my expenses. But not all. This is going to be a significant expense for me. Akin to paying my son's college tuition. Scary expensive.
Just how significant my portion will be isn't clear yet. That's because statements received from medical providers are hard to decipher and the EOB from the insurance company never matches up to the bill. It's going to take a "Philadelphia lawyer" (an old saying meaning something is absurdly complicated) to figure it out. Looking at these bills is like trying to understand tax codes. Nearly impossible.
Here's a few examples:
- Biopsy: $2640 (done in office at a doc visit)
- Hysterectomy: $28,905 (hospital charges only, excludes surgeon and anesthesia)
- Lumpectomy: $21,352 (hospital charges only, excludes surgeon and anesthesia)
- Chemo, each infusion: $15,000 x 8 infusions = $120,000
- Each shot to prevent low white cell count: $3000 x 8 shots = $24,000
BCBS tells me I've cost them nearly $88,000 in the past few months. And we're just getting started on the chemo.
Who knows how much a mastectomy might cost? I'm thinking at least $100,000 when its all said and done.
All told my 'lil bout with cancer will likely cost close to a million bucks. I wish that made me feel special. I wish I'd spent a million bucks on something else, like a cure for the common cold or feeding hungry children or a lavish year in Europe.
Instead, I'll be throwing money at these bills in lieu of vacations or padding my 401K for a long time.
Starting to re-think all those OTC drugs I'm buying to prevent all manners of tummy problems. And my new fascination with organic eating. Or a gym membership.
Who can afford to live a healthy life when it costs so much to be sick??
Sheeze Louise. Boy did I ever get an education on the cost of healthcare once my medical bills started rolling in last month. I am a BCBS customer and I am fortunate to have a good policy that will cover most of my expenses. But not all. This is going to be a significant expense for me. Akin to paying my son's college tuition. Scary expensive.
Just how significant my portion will be isn't clear yet. That's because statements received from medical providers are hard to decipher and the EOB from the insurance company never matches up to the bill. It's going to take a "Philadelphia lawyer" (an old saying meaning something is absurdly complicated) to figure it out. Looking at these bills is like trying to understand tax codes. Nearly impossible.
Here's a few examples:
- Biopsy: $2640 (done in office at a doc visit)
- Hysterectomy: $28,905 (hospital charges only, excludes surgeon and anesthesia)
- Lumpectomy: $21,352 (hospital charges only, excludes surgeon and anesthesia)
- Chemo, each infusion: $15,000 x 8 infusions = $120,000
- Each shot to prevent low white cell count: $3000 x 8 shots = $24,000
BCBS tells me I've cost them nearly $88,000 in the past few months. And we're just getting started on the chemo.
Who knows how much a mastectomy might cost? I'm thinking at least $100,000 when its all said and done.
All told my 'lil bout with cancer will likely cost close to a million bucks. I wish that made me feel special. I wish I'd spent a million bucks on something else, like a cure for the common cold or feeding hungry children or a lavish year in Europe.
Instead, I'll be throwing money at these bills in lieu of vacations or padding my 401K for a long time.
Starting to re-think all those OTC drugs I'm buying to prevent all manners of tummy problems. And my new fascination with organic eating. Or a gym membership.
Who can afford to live a healthy life when it costs so much to be sick??
5/11/12
OMG! They found a cure for stupid!
Did you know they've found a cure for CANCER? Yes! Isn't it marvelous?
We find the cure for cancer in the simple lemon. According to one of my cousins (numerous times removed), the citrus in a lemon is a miracle cure for all sorts of things, including breast cancer. The only catch is that you have to eat the entire lemon, zest and all. She goes on to say that its a proven remedy and even is known to cure pancreatic cancer, so surely it works for breast cancer!
I also read on one of my breast cancer forums that one of the silly suggestions making the rounds is to put the lemon on my asparagus. I've been putting lemon juice on my asparagus for years! Maybe that's what caused my cancer? Or maybe it was drinking from plastic bottles. Or eating ham with nitrates. Who knows?
Oh my. Well meaning, I know. But come on....I hate it when my intelligence is insulted. Not that I'm the brightest light in the house, but I'm not stupid. But if I were stupid, it would be ok, because they've found a cure for it.
What I really hear in some of the more off the wall suggestions is that I've been stupid to see all these doctors, endure chemo, have surgeries, and spend nearly $80,000 in the last three months trying to solve my little problem.
What was I thinking? All I had to do was eat a lemon and we'd could have been done with it. Heading off now to learn more about that cure for stupidity, cause clearly I need it.
We find the cure for cancer in the simple lemon. According to one of my cousins (numerous times removed), the citrus in a lemon is a miracle cure for all sorts of things, including breast cancer. The only catch is that you have to eat the entire lemon, zest and all. She goes on to say that its a proven remedy and even is known to cure pancreatic cancer, so surely it works for breast cancer!
I also read on one of my breast cancer forums that one of the silly suggestions making the rounds is to put the lemon on my asparagus. I've been putting lemon juice on my asparagus for years! Maybe that's what caused my cancer? Or maybe it was drinking from plastic bottles. Or eating ham with nitrates. Who knows?
Oh my. Well meaning, I know. But come on....I hate it when my intelligence is insulted. Not that I'm the brightest light in the house, but I'm not stupid. But if I were stupid, it would be ok, because they've found a cure for it.
What I really hear in some of the more off the wall suggestions is that I've been stupid to see all these doctors, endure chemo, have surgeries, and spend nearly $80,000 in the last three months trying to solve my little problem.
What was I thinking? All I had to do was eat a lemon and we'd could have been done with it. Heading off now to learn more about that cure for stupidity, cause clearly I need it.
5/9/12
Life's Little Blessings
My current "situation" in life, ie having damn sucky cancer, has given me a new perspective on Mother's Day. Well, not necessarily Mother's Day, but mothers in general.
I certainly miss my mom these days. Although she's been gone 15 years, I miss her every single day. I just feel it more acutely now that I'm sick. My mom would have been here with me every step of the way, equally taking care of me and thoroughly annoying me. Don't we all have love/ hate relationships with our mothers?
My mom was a pickle, through and through. She had a lot of faults. Like I don't, eh? But she was a good strong woman with enough love and compassion to fill the oceans. Nobody loves you like your mom loves you. And there was never any doubt about how much my mom loved me. Never.
My "situation" also brings me to appreciate other mothers. The ones who raised children who are now my supporters and caretakers. They raised children who understand the blessings behind serving others. I am exceedingly fortunate to be the person being served at this time in my life. I am more grateful than I can express for the mothers who raised children who call, email, fetch my dinner, hug, worry, talk to me, take me places, and even just think of me when they have their own "situations" in life.
One of my wonderful neighbors recently told me that she considered serving others a blessing. I'll never forget that comment.
Thanks, Mom. Thanks for raising the kind of people who consider doing for others a blessing.
I certainly miss my mom these days. Although she's been gone 15 years, I miss her every single day. I just feel it more acutely now that I'm sick. My mom would have been here with me every step of the way, equally taking care of me and thoroughly annoying me. Don't we all have love/ hate relationships with our mothers?
My mom was a pickle, through and through. She had a lot of faults. Like I don't, eh? But she was a good strong woman with enough love and compassion to fill the oceans. Nobody loves you like your mom loves you. And there was never any doubt about how much my mom loved me. Never.
My "situation" also brings me to appreciate other mothers. The ones who raised children who are now my supporters and caretakers. They raised children who understand the blessings behind serving others. I am exceedingly fortunate to be the person being served at this time in my life. I am more grateful than I can express for the mothers who raised children who call, email, fetch my dinner, hug, worry, talk to me, take me places, and even just think of me when they have their own "situations" in life.
One of my wonderful neighbors recently told me that she considered serving others a blessing. I'll never forget that comment.
Thanks, Mom. Thanks for raising the kind of people who consider doing for others a blessing.
5/7/12
How to save a life
I have to keep reminding myself that chemotherapy is going to save my life.
Because I certainly felt like it was going to kill me over the weekend. How is it possible that something that can make me so sick is the only tool at hand to battle my type of cancer?
As of Friday, I was feeling a tad cocky thinking I'd dodged the worst of chemo hell. It took the weekend to show me how wrong I was.
I find myself wondering if I can really take 16 weeks of this. Of course I can. I'm stronger than I think. There are much sicker people in the world. Right.
I see people out living their lives, healthy people. And I'm actually jealous. That they have the energy to be out in the world. That they are healthy. That they don't have CANCER.
How petty is that of me? I would never wish this on anyone. But I sure wish I didn't have cancer.
Which brings us back to the point here. That chemo is likely going to save my life.
Right?
Because I certainly felt like it was going to kill me over the weekend. How is it possible that something that can make me so sick is the only tool at hand to battle my type of cancer?
As of Friday, I was feeling a tad cocky thinking I'd dodged the worst of chemo hell. It took the weekend to show me how wrong I was.
I find myself wondering if I can really take 16 weeks of this. Of course I can. I'm stronger than I think. There are much sicker people in the world. Right.
I see people out living their lives, healthy people. And I'm actually jealous. That they have the energy to be out in the world. That they are healthy. That they don't have CANCER.
How petty is that of me? I would never wish this on anyone. But I sure wish I didn't have cancer.
Which brings us back to the point here. That chemo is likely going to save my life.
Right?
5/4/12
Chemo: Round One
Had my first round of chemo this week. After weeks of high anxiety around chemo and it's side effects, I'm really glad to have the first round behind me. It makes it all seem less scary.
I had the port put in the morning of the first infusion. That sucked majorly. My anesthesia didn't work so instead of sleeping through the procedure, I sobbed through it. It wasn't the pain - although I could feel tugging and pressure, I didn't feel the incisions. I could feel them snaking the catheter up into my artery which was very very creepy. The very worst part was that I wasn't asleep and I knew I was supposed to be asleep. It completely freaked me out and I started crying and couldn't stop. The doc got cross with me because I couldn't stay still (ever tried to stay perfectly still while trying to pull yourself back from the brink of hyperventilation?). Overall, a very bad experience.
Next stop: chemo suite. Not so bad. Don't know if that was cause I had the port experience for comparison or because I had my friend Susan sitting next to me the whole time knitting me a prayer shawl. How comforting that was; knowing she was there for me. Never go to chemo alone.
Side effects haven't been so bad either, except I'm very very tired. No nausea. Some dizziness and a lingering headache. Hoping the fatigue will lift a bit over the next few days.
Bottom line: Except for the port issue, it's not been nearly as bad as I imagined it might be. No nausea at all, which was my worst fear. I can deal with the fatigue, though I know it will shortly get tiresome.
Get it? My fatigue will soon become tiresome. Smile!
I had the port put in the morning of the first infusion. That sucked majorly. My anesthesia didn't work so instead of sleeping through the procedure, I sobbed through it. It wasn't the pain - although I could feel tugging and pressure, I didn't feel the incisions. I could feel them snaking the catheter up into my artery which was very very creepy. The very worst part was that I wasn't asleep and I knew I was supposed to be asleep. It completely freaked me out and I started crying and couldn't stop. The doc got cross with me because I couldn't stay still (ever tried to stay perfectly still while trying to pull yourself back from the brink of hyperventilation?). Overall, a very bad experience.
Next stop: chemo suite. Not so bad. Don't know if that was cause I had the port experience for comparison or because I had my friend Susan sitting next to me the whole time knitting me a prayer shawl. How comforting that was; knowing she was there for me. Never go to chemo alone.
Side effects haven't been so bad either, except I'm very very tired. No nausea. Some dizziness and a lingering headache. Hoping the fatigue will lift a bit over the next few days.
Bottom line: Except for the port issue, it's not been nearly as bad as I imagined it might be. No nausea at all, which was my worst fear. I can deal with the fatigue, though I know it will shortly get tiresome.
Get it? My fatigue will soon become tiresome. Smile!
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