IT'S OVER! It's difficult to be excited about the end of chemotherapy right now when I am sleeping more than sixteen hours a day, but I know when my body toughens up I will be beyond ecstatic never to have to go through this again. I wish I could just bounce back immediately after chemotherapy and be "normal" Jen, instead I just shift from my couch to my bed shaking and panting in pure exhaustion. Just lifting myself in and out of my bathtub takes every ounce of strength in my shaky muscles. It's not a pretty site and typically I cry in frustration, but I continue to remind myself that this too shall pass. My oncologist warned me that by the time I got to round six of treatment I would feel as though I had been run over by a truck. He was certainly right.
My final chemotherapy treatment consisted of family and friends surrounding me, a beautiful Coach handbag, gorgeous flowers, balloons, Panera breakfast pastries, a beach bag full of goodies, a thoughtful cake that my shaky hands could not hold on to and landed upside down on the floor, text messages and e-mails, hugs and kisses, and yes, even laughs.
We have made it through the first phase of this journey together … eighteen weeks of chemotherapy. I cannot begin to express my love and gratitude for your endless prayers, warm thoughts and support. There is no way I could have done this without you. Now I must gather all of my strength and positive thoughts in order to readjust my focus. My main objective now is to get my body healthy and strong for surgery scheduled on July 1. Surgery will be tough, with three to four weeks of recovery, and I know I will need to summon all of my mental, physical and emotional strength to get through it.
Here is my schedule for the month of June:
June 16: PETScan and Pre-Op with my plastic surgeon (Dr. Wendy Gottlieb)
June 18: Pre-Op with my surgeon (Dr. Kenneth Mason)
June 19: Review PETScan with oncologist (Dr. David Heyer)
June 20: Herceptin Treatment (Every three weeks)
June 26-29: Weekend at the Beach
July 1: Mastectomy and Reconstruction at Virginia Hospital Center
It is time to head back to bed. I will try to write again later this week when I am, hopefully, feeling significantly better.
Showing posts with label chemotherapy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chemotherapy. Show all posts
Monday, June 2, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
5/16/2008: Wearing Sick Well
"… well, you wear sick well," said Mike. The tears rolled down my face and my whole body shook as I listened to my pulse pounding in my ears. "I feel like I am crashing … I haven't felt this badly before," I managed to say choking back my tears. Mike handed me a tissue and I looked away as he drew my blood. Oh God, what is wrong with my body? Please just let me get through one more treatment.
Yesterday I woke up gagging in my sleep, nauseous and dizzy. I spent my morning in a cold sweat lying on my bathroom floor. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears as the sweat beaded on my nose and cheeks. Despite being perplexed by my body's reaction, I managed to pull myself together and make it into work. It didn't take long and the smells and sounds started making me incredibly sick and I could barely read the words on my computer screen. After lunch (which I didn't eat) I drove myself to my oncologist's office at Reston Hospital. I didn't have an appointment, but due to the way I was acting (shaking, sweating, dizzy) they took me back immediately. It didn't take long and I started crying out of fear and frustration.
My blood pressure was very high (which is odd for me), but my temperature, blood work and exam were all excellent. My blood work actually showed the anemia improved, although Melanie (my nurse) thinks that could be due to the fact that I was so dry (dehydrated). I told Melanie about all of my aliments. She said the fatigue/weak body is due to the fact that chemotherapy is cumulative and that my body is growing weaker and weaker each round. The nausea she gave me new medication for which I am hoping will help significantly. The cold sweats I keep getting are due to chemotherapy throwing me into a pre-menopausal state. (Now I understand what Mom went through.) As for the stomach pain/discomfort, the doctors still are not sure. They did a urine test thinking I may have a UTI and that should come back today. Apparently, Taxotere causes the organs to swell, especially the bladder. Melanie hugged me and told me she knew how hard I was fighting and how tough all of this is. It didn't take long and the tears were falling down my face again. She told me to hang in there and that it was almost over … just 14 more days until my last treatment.
I was then taken back to one of the treatment rooms and given a bag of fluid for my dehydration and nausea medication through the IV. Unfortunately, I had not used my numbing cream on my port, so when the nurse accessed it … let's just say it was very tough. I told her how tired I was of getting pricked all the time … and started crying again. She handed me a tissue and gently touched my arm telling me that I was so strong and brave and was almost at that finish line. Why was I so emotional today? Ugggh! I called my Mom crying on the phone and within minutes she was by my side. I felt so much better having her there with me. We ate crackers, chatted and watched HGTV (my guilty pleasure). Sheesh … what a day!
Today my stomach is even worse. I will spare you the details, but I have spent almost my entire morning from 4 AM on in the bathroom. I am incredibly dehydrated. I have an appointment with Dr. Heyer (my oncologist) at 11 AM, then my Herceptin treatment, so hopefully they will be able to examine me again and figure out why my body is so sick. I will be sure to update you all once I know more.
I will leave you with some good news … my heart scan was "excellent" according to my nurse Melanie. She said they saw "some decrease" but not even enough to really mention. The doctors and nurses continue to comment on how well I am doing and how strong my body is. My heart is strong and handling these horrible drugs like a champion. I have only 14 more days of this terrible treatment, my friends. We are almost there.
Yesterday I woke up gagging in my sleep, nauseous and dizzy. I spent my morning in a cold sweat lying on my bathroom floor. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears as the sweat beaded on my nose and cheeks. Despite being perplexed by my body's reaction, I managed to pull myself together and make it into work. It didn't take long and the smells and sounds started making me incredibly sick and I could barely read the words on my computer screen. After lunch (which I didn't eat) I drove myself to my oncologist's office at Reston Hospital. I didn't have an appointment, but due to the way I was acting (shaking, sweating, dizzy) they took me back immediately. It didn't take long and I started crying out of fear and frustration.
My blood pressure was very high (which is odd for me), but my temperature, blood work and exam were all excellent. My blood work actually showed the anemia improved, although Melanie (my nurse) thinks that could be due to the fact that I was so dry (dehydrated). I told Melanie about all of my aliments. She said the fatigue/weak body is due to the fact that chemotherapy is cumulative and that my body is growing weaker and weaker each round. The nausea she gave me new medication for which I am hoping will help significantly. The cold sweats I keep getting are due to chemotherapy throwing me into a pre-menopausal state. (Now I understand what Mom went through.) As for the stomach pain/discomfort, the doctors still are not sure. They did a urine test thinking I may have a UTI and that should come back today. Apparently, Taxotere causes the organs to swell, especially the bladder. Melanie hugged me and told me she knew how hard I was fighting and how tough all of this is. It didn't take long and the tears were falling down my face again. She told me to hang in there and that it was almost over … just 14 more days until my last treatment.
I was then taken back to one of the treatment rooms and given a bag of fluid for my dehydration and nausea medication through the IV. Unfortunately, I had not used my numbing cream on my port, so when the nurse accessed it … let's just say it was very tough. I told her how tired I was of getting pricked all the time … and started crying again. She handed me a tissue and gently touched my arm telling me that I was so strong and brave and was almost at that finish line. Why was I so emotional today? Ugggh! I called my Mom crying on the phone and within minutes she was by my side. I felt so much better having her there with me. We ate crackers, chatted and watched HGTV (my guilty pleasure). Sheesh … what a day!
Today my stomach is even worse. I will spare you the details, but I have spent almost my entire morning from 4 AM on in the bathroom. I am incredibly dehydrated. I have an appointment with Dr. Heyer (my oncologist) at 11 AM, then my Herceptin treatment, so hopefully they will be able to examine me again and figure out why my body is so sick. I will be sure to update you all once I know more.
I will leave you with some good news … my heart scan was "excellent" according to my nurse Melanie. She said they saw "some decrease" but not even enough to really mention. The doctors and nurses continue to comment on how well I am doing and how strong my body is. My heart is strong and handling these horrible drugs like a champion. I have only 14 more days of this terrible treatment, my friends. We are almost there.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
5/13/2008: Weaker and Weaker
The rainy weather has finally subsided and my soul feels renewed. So many wonderful and positive things are happening in the lives of those I care about that I cannot help but be completely ecstatic. I had a conversation with my Mom last night about all the wonderful things happening with my friends and how it gave me strength to see them so happy. I have friends who are finding success in job searches, are growing more pregnant by the minute, planning their weddings, finishing school and more. It finally feels as though the tides are turning and 2008 is not such a loss in the long run. And just think, only 17 days remain until my chemotherapy treatments are over and my life can resume as normal. How can you not be psyched when you are that close to reaching such a HUGE milestone?
Round five of chemotherapy was a trying one. I feel my body grow weaker and weaker each round. This time, in between treatments, I was unable to even enjoy my basic yoga DVDs from the comfort of my home. Stupid cancer. My symptoms are actually not as severe as last round, however I am not making light of how horrible they still remain. I slept a lot after treatment this round and my parents simply woke me up to eat or take my medications. I am back at work today, but with a body that won't budge, a mind that won't focus and feet that are too swollen for anything other than my beloved J.Crew flip-flops. The noises and smells in my office are bearable with an occasional Xanax or nausea medication. Every sense is heightened and my frustration with my physical state has led me to choke up several times throughout the afternoon already. But … I can do this. I am the strongest person I know and if I have done this five times already, what's one more, right? Bring it! It just gets me one more step closer to having surgery where they can cut out any remaining disease and sickness.
Tomorrow is a big day for me. I have my three-month heart scan in order to gauge how much damage the Herceptin and chemotherapy drugs have done to my heart. I was told none of the damage would be permanent, but that the doctors would need to continue monitoring my heart in order to make sure they are protecting it during the process. It is kind of scary when you stop long enough to really think about it. I have my heart scan first thing tomorrow morning, so be sending me your positive thoughts please for a healthy heart. I would not want to get to this point then have to delay treatment or surgery from happening. Next Monday, May 19 is my first pre-surgery appointment with my plastic surgeon, Dr. Wendy Gottlieb. I have already started looking at pictures of celebrities and getting opinions from friends and family about my "new" body. I cannot wait to see what Dr. Gottlieb will suggest for me.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
5/11/2008: Round Five
Well, five down and one to go. YAY! Can you believe it!? I can hardly believe that in three weeks I will be finished with this horrible chemotherapy. That thought alone gives me strength and hope. I stopped by my pharmacy to pick up all of my pre-chemotherapy medications and the woman behind the counter told me that I only had one more refill. I beamed telling her that I ONLY had one more treatment left. I seriously don't think she cared, but I went on and on about it as she rushed to ring me up. Leave it to me to talk someone's ears off that I don't even know.
Yesterday was Team Jen at its finest. Andrew, Bronwyn, Jenn, Rick and Daddy all sacrificed their Friday morning to sit with me during my treatment. Unless you have been through something like this, or a surgery of some kind, I don't think you can truly understand how much having the support of your friends and family means. It can be embarrassing and very vulnerable to have people see you in such an awful state, but I don't think they cared in the slightest. I found a pink wig in the donation box at my oncologist's office that seemed to entertain the group. Haha! My friends were so understanding and supportive of me during my treatment, even giving me a foot rub to take my mind off of the poison being pumped into my body. It is the visits, e-mails, text messages and even the smallest gestures of support that mean so very much to me. I don't think I could ever truly express my gratitude.
I got through the pre-medications, Herceptin and Taxotere during treatment, but then started to have a reaction. I got really flush in my face and neck, started sweating and had some trouble breathing. They flushed my IV immediately with saline (which helped considerably), then prior to my last medication, Carboplatin, they put me on a saline drip for fifteen minutes to try and dilute the Taxotere that was already in my system. That is the roughest of all the medications and rarely have I been able to squeeze by without it giving me some kind of issue. Once I got to the end of my treatment I grew very tired. I slept almost all day yesterday, last night and this morning. My poor little body is just pooped. I have a feeling in the coming days my body will remain pretty run down. The nurses told me that the fatigue will build and I could become more tired this round. At this point, I don't even care because I am almost done with this nightmare and can move on with my life again … well at least to the surgery stage. I just want this cancer out of my body for good.
My blood work was wonderful, my sinus infection gone and the lump under my arm did not concern my nurse. She told me she is almost positive that now that my incision has healed I can feel the blood clot/fluid left over from my surgery more prominently. She said as it heals it will go back and forth between being hard and soft and to please quite poking at it. She said that you do not grow tumors while on chemotherapy, but if I was still emphatic about having something done about it, they could schedule an ultra sound. I told her I would wait a week and make a decision. She said my MRI was great, but that she can understand my concern and they would do whatever I want to help ease my mind. I am just so paranoid these days about my body. I just want so desperately for it to all be okay.
Please know that I am fighting hard physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually with you all surrounding me with your love, support, compassion and prayers. This is one fight I do not intend to lose. Thank you all so very much and I will keep you posted on my progress in the coming days as my body tries to repair itself.
Yesterday was Team Jen at its finest. Andrew, Bronwyn, Jenn, Rick and Daddy all sacrificed their Friday morning to sit with me during my treatment. Unless you have been through something like this, or a surgery of some kind, I don't think you can truly understand how much having the support of your friends and family means. It can be embarrassing and very vulnerable to have people see you in such an awful state, but I don't think they cared in the slightest. I found a pink wig in the donation box at my oncologist's office that seemed to entertain the group. Haha! My friends were so understanding and supportive of me during my treatment, even giving me a foot rub to take my mind off of the poison being pumped into my body. It is the visits, e-mails, text messages and even the smallest gestures of support that mean so very much to me. I don't think I could ever truly express my gratitude.
I got through the pre-medications, Herceptin and Taxotere during treatment, but then started to have a reaction. I got really flush in my face and neck, started sweating and had some trouble breathing. They flushed my IV immediately with saline (which helped considerably), then prior to my last medication, Carboplatin, they put me on a saline drip for fifteen minutes to try and dilute the Taxotere that was already in my system. That is the roughest of all the medications and rarely have I been able to squeeze by without it giving me some kind of issue. Once I got to the end of my treatment I grew very tired. I slept almost all day yesterday, last night and this morning. My poor little body is just pooped. I have a feeling in the coming days my body will remain pretty run down. The nurses told me that the fatigue will build and I could become more tired this round. At this point, I don't even care because I am almost done with this nightmare and can move on with my life again … well at least to the surgery stage. I just want this cancer out of my body for good.
My blood work was wonderful, my sinus infection gone and the lump under my arm did not concern my nurse. She told me she is almost positive that now that my incision has healed I can feel the blood clot/fluid left over from my surgery more prominently. She said as it heals it will go back and forth between being hard and soft and to please quite poking at it. She said that you do not grow tumors while on chemotherapy, but if I was still emphatic about having something done about it, they could schedule an ultra sound. I told her I would wait a week and make a decision. She said my MRI was great, but that she can understand my concern and they would do whatever I want to help ease my mind. I am just so paranoid these days about my body. I just want so desperately for it to all be okay.
Please know that I am fighting hard physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually with you all surrounding me with your love, support, compassion and prayers. This is one fight I do not intend to lose. Thank you all so very much and I will keep you posted on my progress in the coming days as my body tries to repair itself.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
4/27/2008: Farting in the Tub
"You know when you fart in the bathtub …" I asked Melanie (the head doctor at my oncologist's office). She was trying so hard not to laugh as my dad smirked and rolled his eyes. "… that's the feeling I have in my knees and ankles." Melanie said, "Hmm, well, that's not good."
I met with Melanie this Friday during my weekly Herceptin treatment. I always have to meet with my oncologist, Dr. Heyer or Melanie the week following my chemotherapy to report back my side effects, how I am feeling and any changes in my reactions.
I explained how different this round was and that the side effects came later in the week lasted a shorter amount of time. I also have had pretty severe nausea the past two rounds, which I previously never had. Although I have never thrown up, it certainly makes me not want to eat. Melanie explained that the chemo builds up in the body and it could be just now that my body is saying "NOOOOOOOO!" and getting nauseous. As long as it can be managed with medication, the show goes on. So basically, I just have to suck it up and deal with it. The "farting" knees and ankles however is fluid building up in my joints due to the Taxotere (one of the ingredients in my chemo recipe). Not fun! Melanie asked me to watch this and report back if it did not subside or grew worse.
Surprisingly, my blood work came back and was worse than usual. The white blood cells (immunity) were in a good range; however, my red blood cells had dropped considerably. They were already low, meaning that I am anemic, but now I am even worse. They said they would check it again next Friday in hopes it had improved, but the only number they really care about is the white blood count. I never understood how people with anemia feel, but basically my organs are not getting the oxygen they need and it makes me feel wiped out. Ugggh!
I FINALLY HAVE A TIMELINE!!! I am so excited! Once chemo is over on May 30, I will have my PETscan on 6/16, meet with Dr. Heyer to review my PETscan on 6/19 or 6/20, then have my appointments with my surgeon, Dr. Mason, and the plastic surgeon around 6/23. Melanie said surgery can happen within days of that meeting … it is just up to the surgeons. YAY! Looks like June is going to be a super busy month, but I am ready for it. I cannot wait to get my new boobs. I just want all of this to be over so I can move on with my life and take a much needed vacation.
I met with Melanie this Friday during my weekly Herceptin treatment. I always have to meet with my oncologist, Dr. Heyer or Melanie the week following my chemotherapy to report back my side effects, how I am feeling and any changes in my reactions.
I explained how different this round was and that the side effects came later in the week lasted a shorter amount of time. I also have had pretty severe nausea the past two rounds, which I previously never had. Although I have never thrown up, it certainly makes me not want to eat. Melanie explained that the chemo builds up in the body and it could be just now that my body is saying "NOOOOOOOO!" and getting nauseous. As long as it can be managed with medication, the show goes on. So basically, I just have to suck it up and deal with it. The "farting" knees and ankles however is fluid building up in my joints due to the Taxotere (one of the ingredients in my chemo recipe). Not fun! Melanie asked me to watch this and report back if it did not subside or grew worse.
Surprisingly, my blood work came back and was worse than usual. The white blood cells (immunity) were in a good range; however, my red blood cells had dropped considerably. They were already low, meaning that I am anemic, but now I am even worse. They said they would check it again next Friday in hopes it had improved, but the only number they really care about is the white blood count. I never understood how people with anemia feel, but basically my organs are not getting the oxygen they need and it makes me feel wiped out. Ugggh!
I FINALLY HAVE A TIMELINE!!! I am so excited! Once chemo is over on May 30, I will have my PETscan on 6/16, meet with Dr. Heyer to review my PETscan on 6/19 or 6/20, then have my appointments with my surgeon, Dr. Mason, and the plastic surgeon around 6/23. Melanie said surgery can happen within days of that meeting … it is just up to the surgeons. YAY! Looks like June is going to be a super busy month, but I am ready for it. I cannot wait to get my new boobs. I just want all of this to be over so I can move on with my life and take a much needed vacation.
Monday, April 21, 2008
4/21/2008: White Dove
I lay on my belly in my bathtub last night. I tried standing in the shower, but my little legs shook too much, so I opted for a bath. (You should see my nasty bruises from my fall down the stairs at work last week. Eeek!) I played with my hair that had fallen out on the side of my tub. I made about five hearts from my dark blonde locks before I ran out. I really do miss my hair today. (Yes, my hair grows back in between treatments, and then I have to watch it fall out all over again.)
For some reason this treatment (round four) has been different than the others. Some side effects kicked in quickly and I was not as fatigued at the onset. I said several times this weekend, "I cannot believe I have cancer." Is the fact that I have cancer just now setting in? I have no emotion towards it, meaning I am not upset or angry … just annoyed and frustrated at being slowed down. Just when I thought I had escaped the wrath of the chemotherapy side effects, they hit last night. My fingers are not cooperating and are swollen today. I have to really concentrate just to open a container. My gums are swollen and my mouth is raw and peeling … I have no taste at all. This is the first time that I have no appetite. (Don't fret … I promise to keep eating.) Just walking from my bedroom to my kitchen leaves me exhausted. I hate feeling this way. My senses are working hard. I can actually hear my blood pumping in my ears. Besides the fatigue (which is the lamest word to describe this sensation), the heightened senses are a close second to my least favorite thing in the world.
My mastectomy won't even happen until the end of June and already the nightmares have begun. I keep dreaming that I wake up and have size 'I' boobs. I tell the doctor that this is not what I wanted and they assure me that I look "so good." I need to stop watching plastic surgery shows on TV, I think. Haha! Once chemotherapy treatment is over (May 30), I will have to wait a few weeks then have my PETscan redone. (Chemo can cause false negatives and positives if the PETscan is done too close to your treatment.) Then I will meet with the surgeon and plastic surgeon. They have to do surgery within 3 to 4 weeks after my last treatment. They want to wait a little so my strength can get back up, but not too long in case there are any cancer gremlins (Sarah's term) still left, because they will start growing again. When I meet with Melanie (head nurse at my Oncologist's office) this Friday I plan to try and nail down some dates. They usually just tell me to be patient and get through chemotherapy first, but you all know me … I want a plan and to have this whole thing organized into a neat little package.
I have a white dove that has been coming to spend time with me over the past few weeks outside my bedroom window. I was getting some sun at my parent's house this weekend after treatment and my beautiful dove landed not even a foot from me in the grass. I cannot believe she found me. She cocked her head and cooed at me. We chatted for a bit and off she went. I did not see her yesterday, which saddened me greatly; however, this morning when I was probably feeling my worst I heard a coo outside my window. When I opened my blinds my little white dove sat perched on the back of my balcony chair … as close as she could get to my window. She was not frightened by my opening the blinds. She is glorious and for some reason puts me at such ease.
For some reason this treatment (round four) has been different than the others. Some side effects kicked in quickly and I was not as fatigued at the onset. I said several times this weekend, "I cannot believe I have cancer." Is the fact that I have cancer just now setting in? I have no emotion towards it, meaning I am not upset or angry … just annoyed and frustrated at being slowed down. Just when I thought I had escaped the wrath of the chemotherapy side effects, they hit last night. My fingers are not cooperating and are swollen today. I have to really concentrate just to open a container. My gums are swollen and my mouth is raw and peeling … I have no taste at all. This is the first time that I have no appetite. (Don't fret … I promise to keep eating.) Just walking from my bedroom to my kitchen leaves me exhausted. I hate feeling this way. My senses are working hard. I can actually hear my blood pumping in my ears. Besides the fatigue (which is the lamest word to describe this sensation), the heightened senses are a close second to my least favorite thing in the world.
My mastectomy won't even happen until the end of June and already the nightmares have begun. I keep dreaming that I wake up and have size 'I' boobs. I tell the doctor that this is not what I wanted and they assure me that I look "so good." I need to stop watching plastic surgery shows on TV, I think. Haha! Once chemotherapy treatment is over (May 30), I will have to wait a few weeks then have my PETscan redone. (Chemo can cause false negatives and positives if the PETscan is done too close to your treatment.) Then I will meet with the surgeon and plastic surgeon. They have to do surgery within 3 to 4 weeks after my last treatment. They want to wait a little so my strength can get back up, but not too long in case there are any cancer gremlins (Sarah's term) still left, because they will start growing again. When I meet with Melanie (head nurse at my Oncologist's office) this Friday I plan to try and nail down some dates. They usually just tell me to be patient and get through chemotherapy first, but you all know me … I want a plan and to have this whole thing organized into a neat little package.
I have a white dove that has been coming to spend time with me over the past few weeks outside my bedroom window. I was getting some sun at my parent's house this weekend after treatment and my beautiful dove landed not even a foot from me in the grass. I cannot believe she found me. She cocked her head and cooed at me. We chatted for a bit and off she went. I did not see her yesterday, which saddened me greatly; however, this morning when I was probably feeling my worst I heard a coo outside my window. When I opened my blinds my little white dove sat perched on the back of my balcony chair … as close as she could get to my window. She was not frightened by my opening the blinds. She is glorious and for some reason puts me at such ease.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
4/19/2008: Round Four
Round four of chemotherapy has been my best one so far! My nurses hooked me up and drew my blood first. My blood work came back better than it has any of the other times. I am still anemic, but my number was much better. And my white blood count (immunity) is higher than they expected, which means my body is making itself better on its own.My nurses gave me my pre-meds (steroid for allergic reaction and another medication for nausea) which they always do as a precaution, then an IV of Benedryl. By the time my company got there (Aunt Patty and Ashley) my speech was slurred and mid-sentence I would forget what I was talking about. My guests were patient with me and understood that I was just dopey from the medication. They changed the order of my chemotherapy medications this time, however. They started with Herception, then Taxotere, since I have had allergic reactions to them in the past and wanted to give them to me following the Benedryl. Lastly, they gave me the Carboplatin. I had no allergic reactions, or any issues at all for that matter. The nurses also confirmed how great my MRI results were that I got back last week. This just lifted my spirits even more!
When I got home I was not my typical sleepy, cranky self. I laid out in my parents front yard and sunbathed. (Don't worry my nervous Nellie's, I asked my nurses for permission and wore sunblock to protect myself.) It felt so good getting some ray. I found myself in great spirits yesterday and pretty spunky. By dinner time I started having my typical side effects that I usually don't get until Monday (sensitivity with my hearing and sight, crankiness from starting to feel slowed down, numbness in my fingers and arms, shaky legs, etc.) ... two days ahead of schedule. Last chemo treatment my side effects came one day in advance, this time I am two days ahead of schedule. I am hoping this means that I will feel better sooner, too. Wouldn't that be nice for a change!?
All in all, I am doing better than I have with all my other treatments. I actually feel pretty good. Maybe I will layout a little this afternoon and try to sweat out some of this icky medicine. Sounds like a good plan of action to me.
Thank you all for your texts, e-mails, phone calls and gifts. It means the world to me. Four treatments down and only two to go. YAY!
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
4/15/2008: Anxiety Returns
My heart is racing out of my chest. I am dizzy, nauseous and have broken out in a cold sweat. Oh God, I think I may not be able to make it to the bathroom before I get sick.
The anxiety of having chemo again this Friday is more than I can bear. Apparently feeling this way is normal according to my sisters in cancer who are going through treatment as well. The nightmares, insomnia, night sweats, lack of appetite and nausea all set in Sunday. I hadn't experienced nausea this bad until now. I am completely drained from the anxiety. I obviously try to keep my worries to a minimum with positive thinking, wine and yoga (ahem, and Milano cookies), but there is no way to ignore how horrible chemo makes you feel. You just don't understand it unless you have experienced it. It is like nothing else in this world and the word horrible doesn't even come close to describing it. I dread it each time it creeps closer and closer, but there is no escaping it. I just continue to suck it up and move through the motions despite the fact that each time they place the thick needle into my port (and I tell my Daddy to please look away) I am choking back the tears. I am embarrassed, annoyed, frustrated and just so ready to take back my life. I am starting to forget what it felt like to not be on medication all the time and to actually have a day where I feel amazing. I just want to be normal again ... and soon. I constantly imagine myself during treatment and testing somewhere else laying on a beach, warm and feeling vibrant once again. I long for that day more than you can imagine.
Despite the negatives, I have to remember how lucky I am that my MRI came back as well as it did. This means they don't have to prolong treatment or switch my regimen. Lord knows I can only handle so much. I knew in my heart that treatment was working, but to have that confirmation was exactly what I needed. I cannot believe that this Friday is round four of chemo. (I will be 2/3 of the way done.) Time has flown by so fast, especially between the last round and this one.
I have finally been able to start exercising daily, which always makes me feel better. The problem is I get back on a schedule right before I am laid out by chemo again. My poor little body just wants some consistency. In due time, right? I know ... I believe it, too. It's time to cradle my head in my hands, take a deep breath, wipe the beads of sweat on my brow and just push through these last three rounds of treatment. If I squint hard enough, I can start to see a glimpse of light at the end of this tunnel. Can you see it too?
The anxiety of having chemo again this Friday is more than I can bear. Apparently feeling this way is normal according to my sisters in cancer who are going through treatment as well. The nightmares, insomnia, night sweats, lack of appetite and nausea all set in Sunday. I hadn't experienced nausea this bad until now. I am completely drained from the anxiety. I obviously try to keep my worries to a minimum with positive thinking, wine and yoga (ahem, and Milano cookies), but there is no way to ignore how horrible chemo makes you feel. You just don't understand it unless you have experienced it. It is like nothing else in this world and the word horrible doesn't even come close to describing it. I dread it each time it creeps closer and closer, but there is no escaping it. I just continue to suck it up and move through the motions despite the fact that each time they place the thick needle into my port (and I tell my Daddy to please look away) I am choking back the tears. I am embarrassed, annoyed, frustrated and just so ready to take back my life. I am starting to forget what it felt like to not be on medication all the time and to actually have a day where I feel amazing. I just want to be normal again ... and soon. I constantly imagine myself during treatment and testing somewhere else laying on a beach, warm and feeling vibrant once again. I long for that day more than you can imagine.
Despite the negatives, I have to remember how lucky I am that my MRI came back as well as it did. This means they don't have to prolong treatment or switch my regimen. Lord knows I can only handle so much. I knew in my heart that treatment was working, but to have that confirmation was exactly what I needed. I cannot believe that this Friday is round four of chemo. (I will be 2/3 of the way done.) Time has flown by so fast, especially between the last round and this one.
I have finally been able to start exercising daily, which always makes me feel better. The problem is I get back on a schedule right before I am laid out by chemo again. My poor little body just wants some consistency. In due time, right? I know ... I believe it, too. It's time to cradle my head in my hands, take a deep breath, wipe the beads of sweat on my brow and just push through these last three rounds of treatment. If I squint hard enough, I can start to see a glimpse of light at the end of this tunnel. Can you see it too?
4/15/2008: Anxiety Returns
My heart is racing out of my chest. I am dizzy, nauseous and have broken out in a cold sweat. Oh God, I think I may not be able to make it to the bathroom before I get sick.
The anxiety of having chemo again this Friday is more than I can bear. Apparently feeling this way is normal according to my sisters in cancer who are going through treatment as well. The nightmares, insomnia, night sweats, lack of appetite and nausea all set in Sunday. I hadn't experienced nausea this bad until now. I am completely drained from the anxiety. I obviously try to keep my worries to a minimum with positive thinking, wine and yoga (ahem, and Milano cookies), but there is no way to ignore how horrible chemo makes you feel. You just don't understand it unless you have experienced it. It is like nothing else in this world and the word horrible doesn't even come close to describing it. I dread it each time it creeps closer and closer, but there is no escaping it. I just continue to suck it up and move through the motions despite the fact that each time they place the thick needle into my port (and I tell my Daddy to please look away) I am choking back the tears. I am embarrassed, annoyed, frustrated and just so ready to take back my life. I am starting to forget what it felt like to not be on medication all the time and to actually have a day where I feel amazing. I just want to be normal again ... and soon. I constantly imagine myself during treatment and testing somewhere else laying on a beach, warm and feeling vibrant once again. I long for that day more than you can imagine.
Despite the negatives, I have to remember how lucky I am that my MRI came back as well as it did. This means they don't have to prolong treatment or switch my regimen. Lord knows I can only handle so much. I knew in my heart that treatment was working, but to have that confirmation was exactly what I needed. I cannot believe that this Friday is round four of chemo. (I will be 2/3 of the way done.) Time has flown by so fast, especially between the last round and this one.
I have finally been able to start exercising daily, which always makes me feel better. The problem is I get back on a schedule right before I am laid out by chemo again. My poor little body just wants some consistency. In due time, right? I know ... I believe it, too. It's time to cradle my head in my hands, take a deep breath, wipe the beads of sweat on my brow and just push through these last three rounds of treatment. If I squint hard enough, I can start to see a glimpse of light at the end of this tunnel. Can you see it too?
The anxiety of having chemo again this Friday is more than I can bear. Apparently feeling this way is normal according to my sisters in cancer who are going through treatment as well. The nightmares, insomnia, night sweats, lack of appetite and nausea all set in Sunday. I hadn't experienced nausea this bad until now. I am completely drained from the anxiety. I obviously try to keep my worries to a minimum with positive thinking, wine and yoga (ahem, and Milano cookies), but there is no way to ignore how horrible chemo makes you feel. You just don't understand it unless you have experienced it. It is like nothing else in this world and the word horrible doesn't even come close to describing it. I dread it each time it creeps closer and closer, but there is no escaping it. I just continue to suck it up and move through the motions despite the fact that each time they place the thick needle into my port (and I tell my Daddy to please look away) I am choking back the tears. I am embarrassed, annoyed, frustrated and just so ready to take back my life. I am starting to forget what it felt like to not be on medication all the time and to actually have a day where I feel amazing. I just want to be normal again ... and soon. I constantly imagine myself during treatment and testing somewhere else laying on a beach, warm and feeling vibrant once again. I long for that day more than you can imagine.
Despite the negatives, I have to remember how lucky I am that my MRI came back as well as it did. This means they don't have to prolong treatment or switch my regimen. Lord knows I can only handle so much. I knew in my heart that treatment was working, but to have that confirmation was exactly what I needed. I cannot believe that this Friday is round four of chemo. (I will be 2/3 of the way done.) Time has flown by so fast, especially between the last round and this one.
I have finally been able to start exercising daily, which always makes me feel better. The problem is I get back on a schedule right before I am laid out by chemo again. My poor little body just wants some consistency. In due time, right? I know ... I believe it, too. It's time to cradle my head in my hands, take a deep breath, wipe the beads of sweat on my brow and just push through these last three rounds of treatment. If I squint hard enough, I can start to see a glimpse of light at the end of this tunnel. Can you see it too?
Saturday, April 12, 2008
4/12/2008: Amazing News
What a crazy week. I had my MRI on Wednesday and it went better than my first one back in January. They had to use a special machine because of my port. A breast MRI is really uncomfortable. You have to lay face down on the MRI table with your boobs poking through these two holes and you have a cushion for your face similar to when you have a massage. The technicians pull at your boobs to make sure they are inside the holes. There is a bar that presses against your sternum as you lay there with your arms extended over your head. Then they move you around the table and the machine makes the most horrible noises that are SO loud. Then they give you an IV that makes you taste metal in your mouth and makes you feel like you just peed yourself. I wasn't on the table correctly so my nurse just grabbed the bed sheet and pulled it. I cracked up. She said, well you are so tiny I will just drag you where I want you. The good thing is, the technicians all are amazing. They said when I get my new boobs to come back and show them off. I love those ladies. Dad and I went to lunch afterwards and when I came back to pick up my pictures they told me they had to redo a couple of shots. Boo!
I had my Herceptin treatment today and it was pretty rough. I was only a couple of minutes into my treatment when my chest started tightening and I couldn't breath. The nurse came in and cut off the medicine, put me on saline and then gave me a shot of Benedryl. Now I am totally exhausted, but at least I can breathe now. They waited about 20 minutes then started the Herceptin again. I asked my nurse to check with my oncologist, Dr. Heyer, about my MRI results. She came back and said, "All of your lymph nodes have shrunk." YAY!
Once my appointment was over I went to MRI of Reston and requested a report of my MRI. I'm sneaky! The report has a lot of biological mumbo jumbo that I don't understand. (So I reviewed it with my friend Andrew who knows all about this stuff.) The report says everything is stable or decreased. The MRI still saw the fluid under my incision and said it had decreased from 48 x 35 mm to 30 x 22mm. One lymph node went from 50 mm to 23 mm and the other 15 mm to 12 mm. The area of tissue diseased inside my left breast went from 16 x 7 mm to 10 x 6 mm. And no new lymphadenopathy is evident! (That basically means there is nothing new.)
The report did say, "More prominent geographic enhancement with some abnormal kinetics in the upper-outer left breast compared with prior study. The remainder of the breast parenchyma in both breasts is generally stable. This area could represent neoplasm." Andrew said not to focus on that or worry. He said technically a neoplasm is a precancerous lesion or tumor ... but just because it wasn't there before doesn't mean anything. He also said maybe a few of my "hot spots" (cancer cells) all grouped together to hide from the chemo ... but neoplasms are generally really small. If this was a huge issue I think my oncologist would have said something to my nurse.
So all in all, amazing news. This means chemotherapy is working and the cancer is being killed. This time next week I will be 2/3 of the way through treatment. YAY!
I had my Herceptin treatment today and it was pretty rough. I was only a couple of minutes into my treatment when my chest started tightening and I couldn't breath. The nurse came in and cut off the medicine, put me on saline and then gave me a shot of Benedryl. Now I am totally exhausted, but at least I can breathe now. They waited about 20 minutes then started the Herceptin again. I asked my nurse to check with my oncologist, Dr. Heyer, about my MRI results. She came back and said, "All of your lymph nodes have shrunk." YAY!
Once my appointment was over I went to MRI of Reston and requested a report of my MRI. I'm sneaky! The report has a lot of biological mumbo jumbo that I don't understand. (So I reviewed it with my friend Andrew who knows all about this stuff.) The report says everything is stable or decreased. The MRI still saw the fluid under my incision and said it had decreased from 48 x 35 mm to 30 x 22mm. One lymph node went from 50 mm to 23 mm and the other 15 mm to 12 mm. The area of tissue diseased inside my left breast went from 16 x 7 mm to 10 x 6 mm. And no new lymphadenopathy is evident! (That basically means there is nothing new.)
The report did say, "More prominent geographic enhancement with some abnormal kinetics in the upper-outer left breast compared with prior study. The remainder of the breast parenchyma in both breasts is generally stable. This area could represent neoplasm." Andrew said not to focus on that or worry. He said technically a neoplasm is a precancerous lesion or tumor ... but just because it wasn't there before doesn't mean anything. He also said maybe a few of my "hot spots" (cancer cells) all grouped together to hide from the chemo ... but neoplasms are generally really small. If this was a huge issue I think my oncologist would have said something to my nurse.
So all in all, amazing news. This means chemotherapy is working and the cancer is being killed. This time next week I will be 2/3 of the way through treatment. YAY!
Sunday, April 6, 2008
4/6/2008: The Baby Grape
I was washing my red grapes today and the tears ran down my dry, peeling cheeks … I cannot remember ever appreciating things in my life like I do now, or being this fulfilled and happy.
I had my Herceptin treatment today that I have every Friday. Earlier this week I had some upper respiratory problems, so prior to getting treatment, my nurse Jessi had to get approval from my oncologist, Dr. Heyer, to continue the Herceptin. The nurses checked my oxygen and listened to my chest. Everything was great … even my blood work. I was told the rustling in my chest was most likely allergies and that the show could go on.
Dad and I sat during treatment and shared our favorite recipes as we watched the Cooking Network. Today was a good day and I was just beaming about the meeting I had this morning, my interview with Hannah from the Gannetteer yesterday, dinner with Dan who just returned from Egypt, time spent with Drew and the other events from the week. I know it cannot be easy for my Daddy to watch his little girl go through all this, but he still manages to give me a smile when those beautiful green eyes swell. When he gets to that point he offers me a Frappuccino or Ginger Ale that he always seems to have stashed away for my treatments. That's Daddy's cure for all ... he knows that a Frappuccino is the key to my heart.
Dr. Heyer came to visit me during my treatment, which was a pleasant surprise. He asked about the respiratory issues and how I was coping with my third round of chemotherapy. We talked and joked for awhile and Dr. Heyer asked how my incision was from where I had the hockey puck-sized lymph node removed mid-January. I told him other than some toughness along the actual incision I felt nothing unusual. He said he wanted to do an exam of the area and my breast after treatment. He said if nothing was there he didn't see a reason to do midway testing. I started pouting and he told me I could talk him into anything. He agreed to an MRI this Wednesday at noon. YAY! This will tell us how well the chemotherapy is working. Keep your fingers and toes crossed for great results.
After my treatment I went back to an examination room and undressed for my exam. Dr. Heyer came in and the first thing he asked me was "How's Dad holding up?" (Are you trying to make me cry, Heyer? Sheesh.) He said, "It must be so hard for your parents. I couldn't imagine my baby going through this. (I was choking back the tears.) Dr. Heyer felt around my incision then looked at me. He said "I don't believe this. Your lymph nodes have completely shrunk and feel normal. I really don't believe you've improved this much already." I just beamed. I could not hide my excitement. He completed the breast exam and said "I am very, VERY pleased." He said in addition to my lymph nodes shrinking, my blood work, weight, side effects … everything has been just extraordinary. Typically, they have to adjust treatment and change regimens with patients, but I have just been a stellar patient. (Again, I think Milano cookies have something to do with it.) He did his usual threatening of taking away my BlackBerry during office visits and I joked back with him to just try. He's an amazing doctor.
I left Daddy with a hug and a kiss, went to the grocery store and came home. Washing my grapes I reflected on the day and how truly blessed I am. I got to the last grape in the bag … it was the baby. I giggled a little remembering growing up when Daddy would go grocery shopping on the weekends and come home and wash the grapes like I do now. He would yell for me to come into the kitchen. He would tell me that he had found a "Jennifer-sized grape" … the baby. He always saved them for me. The tears rolled down my face holding the Jennifer-sized grape in my hand and marveling at how much I love my friends and family and how truly blessed I am. Today was such a good day.
I had my Herceptin treatment today that I have every Friday. Earlier this week I had some upper respiratory problems, so prior to getting treatment, my nurse Jessi had to get approval from my oncologist, Dr. Heyer, to continue the Herceptin. The nurses checked my oxygen and listened to my chest. Everything was great … even my blood work. I was told the rustling in my chest was most likely allergies and that the show could go on.
Dad and I sat during treatment and shared our favorite recipes as we watched the Cooking Network. Today was a good day and I was just beaming about the meeting I had this morning, my interview with Hannah from the Gannetteer yesterday, dinner with Dan who just returned from Egypt, time spent with Drew and the other events from the week. I know it cannot be easy for my Daddy to watch his little girl go through all this, but he still manages to give me a smile when those beautiful green eyes swell. When he gets to that point he offers me a Frappuccino or Ginger Ale that he always seems to have stashed away for my treatments. That's Daddy's cure for all ... he knows that a Frappuccino is the key to my heart.
Dr. Heyer came to visit me during my treatment, which was a pleasant surprise. He asked about the respiratory issues and how I was coping with my third round of chemotherapy. We talked and joked for awhile and Dr. Heyer asked how my incision was from where I had the hockey puck-sized lymph node removed mid-January. I told him other than some toughness along the actual incision I felt nothing unusual. He said he wanted to do an exam of the area and my breast after treatment. He said if nothing was there he didn't see a reason to do midway testing. I started pouting and he told me I could talk him into anything. He agreed to an MRI this Wednesday at noon. YAY! This will tell us how well the chemotherapy is working. Keep your fingers and toes crossed for great results.
After my treatment I went back to an examination room and undressed for my exam. Dr. Heyer came in and the first thing he asked me was "How's Dad holding up?" (Are you trying to make me cry, Heyer? Sheesh.) He said, "It must be so hard for your parents. I couldn't imagine my baby going through this. (I was choking back the tears.) Dr. Heyer felt around my incision then looked at me. He said "I don't believe this. Your lymph nodes have completely shrunk and feel normal. I really don't believe you've improved this much already." I just beamed. I could not hide my excitement. He completed the breast exam and said "I am very, VERY pleased." He said in addition to my lymph nodes shrinking, my blood work, weight, side effects … everything has been just extraordinary. Typically, they have to adjust treatment and change regimens with patients, but I have just been a stellar patient. (Again, I think Milano cookies have something to do with it.) He did his usual threatening of taking away my BlackBerry during office visits and I joked back with him to just try. He's an amazing doctor.
I left Daddy with a hug and a kiss, went to the grocery store and came home. Washing my grapes I reflected on the day and how truly blessed I am. I got to the last grape in the bag … it was the baby. I giggled a little remembering growing up when Daddy would go grocery shopping on the weekends and come home and wash the grapes like I do now. He would yell for me to come into the kitchen. He would tell me that he had found a "Jennifer-sized grape" … the baby. He always saved them for me. The tears rolled down my face holding the Jennifer-sized grape in my hand and marveling at how much I love my friends and family and how truly blessed I am. Today was such a good day.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
4/1/2008: Side Effects
HAPPY APRIL 1st! A new month means I am just that much closer to being healthy!!!
Well, it appears that I survived round three of chemotherapy and am now halfway to the finish line. Lord knows I did not get there without some stumbling and even some dark times along my path. I am just thrilled to actually get to a milestone. YAY!
This treatment has been different then the first two. The severity of the side effects happened sooner, meaning Sunday instead of Monday, and seem to be leaving my body much quicker. My friend Andrew and I seem to believe that it is because all the cancer is dead, so the medication can leave my body a day early. I know, it might seem crazy, but I have to believe this is all working, right? I swear I have never sweated so much in my entire life. First, my body is exhausted so any physical effort causes me to sweat, like brushing my teeth. Second, I think I am sweating out all the medication. Mixing uppers and downers cannot be good for the body. Poor little body needs a vacation!
I am having the same normal aggravations as I typically do after chemotherapy. My body is moving in slow motion. My fingers don't work well … I have little to no feeling in them. My legs shake horribly when I stand. I have frequent muscle spasms. My senses are heightened, especially my hearing. I do not love my morning doves that perch on my balcony these days. My skin is dry and peeling, my mouth sore and swollen … basically, I look REALLY hot. Haha. I don't even care … I just want this all to be over.
Unfortunately, since my side effects came a day sooner, my family had to experience the chemo trance on Sunday that I can typically hide pretty well from them. My Mom urged me to call the doctor, but I explained that what she was seeing was normal. No words can begin to describe the expression of helplessness my family felt just watching me in my daze. Unless you have been through it, how do you begin to understand it? The life is literally sucked right out of your body and every movement takes excruciating effort and precision. But still I am blessed. I can only imagine this is just a fraction of what someone with a physical disability must face every moment of every day. Tomorrow I shall wake up with a little more mobility and life will resume with more clarity. Today, my body is not cooperating and common noises are painful, but life goes on … as will I.
Well, it appears that I survived round three of chemotherapy and am now halfway to the finish line. Lord knows I did not get there without some stumbling and even some dark times along my path. I am just thrilled to actually get to a milestone. YAY!
This treatment has been different then the first two. The severity of the side effects happened sooner, meaning Sunday instead of Monday, and seem to be leaving my body much quicker. My friend Andrew and I seem to believe that it is because all the cancer is dead, so the medication can leave my body a day early. I know, it might seem crazy, but I have to believe this is all working, right? I swear I have never sweated so much in my entire life. First, my body is exhausted so any physical effort causes me to sweat, like brushing my teeth. Second, I think I am sweating out all the medication. Mixing uppers and downers cannot be good for the body. Poor little body needs a vacation!
I am having the same normal aggravations as I typically do after chemotherapy. My body is moving in slow motion. My fingers don't work well … I have little to no feeling in them. My legs shake horribly when I stand. I have frequent muscle spasms. My senses are heightened, especially my hearing. I do not love my morning doves that perch on my balcony these days. My skin is dry and peeling, my mouth sore and swollen … basically, I look REALLY hot. Haha. I don't even care … I just want this all to be over.
Unfortunately, since my side effects came a day sooner, my family had to experience the chemo trance on Sunday that I can typically hide pretty well from them. My Mom urged me to call the doctor, but I explained that what she was seeing was normal. No words can begin to describe the expression of helplessness my family felt just watching me in my daze. Unless you have been through it, how do you begin to understand it? The life is literally sucked right out of your body and every movement takes excruciating effort and precision. But still I am blessed. I can only imagine this is just a fraction of what someone with a physical disability must face every moment of every day. Tomorrow I shall wake up with a little more mobility and life will resume with more clarity. Today, my body is not cooperating and common noises are painful, but life goes on … as will I.
Monday, March 31, 2008
3/31/2008: Round Three
Well, I had round three of chemotherapy yesterday ... which means I am now halfway through. YAY! I seem to be doing better this round then the first two, which is a nice change of pace. However, it was slow getting going yesterday. Once the needle was placed in my port (yuck) the nurse was unable to draw blood. I had to lean back in the recliner with my arms over my head to try to encourage the blood to come out in a steady stream. (Before they can administer the medications, they must first draw blood to get a baseline.) I asked permission to move the needle around inside of the port to try and get a good spot to draw blood. The nurse let me. (I am becoming so brave.) We got a steady stream and were off. My blood work was fabulous, which is always great to hear.They started me with Benedryl (since I had the allergic reaction to Taxotere last time), the steroid for allergic reaction and another medication for nausea, which I have yet to actually get nauseous. Once I was completely doped up, my friends Kere and Bronwyn arrived and they began the chemo treatment. Kere taught me how to cross stitch during treatment and all five of us (including Dad and Joey) had great conversation. It certainly helps make the time go by quicker with friends there with me. When I go to my last medication (Herceptin) my heart started beating out of my chest and very irregular. They immediately switched me over to plain saline and took my oxygen, pulse, and listened to my heart. I had a couple of waves of this and my nurse seemed to think it was from mixing the uppers and downers which was confusing my body. It eventually evened out, but for a moment I was pretty frightened.
I am at my parents until tomorrow afternoon (Sunday). My body is already starting to slow down on me ... my mind is racing but I feel like I am moving in slow motion. (My little legs shake when I stand for too long.) The sensitivity in my ears is pretty unbearable, but all in all I am holding up pretty well. Please keep sending your warm thoughts and prayers my way. We are halfway there my friends. :) This Friday I have a follow-up appointment with my oncologist, Dr. David Heyer, in which he will probably refer me for mid-way tests, such as an MRI and PETscan, to see where we are at. All very exciting.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
3/26/2008: Hitting the Gym
I'm not feeling very well today. I am not sure what is going on. Maybe my body is gearing up for my period again which I have every 14 days. Good times! I suppose we are all entitled to days like this, but today is especially poopie. Maybe my mood will improve as the day progresses. Right now I just want to go home, crawl under my covers and escape from the world.
I have started working out once or twice a day now which has proved to be a great stress and anxiety reliever. I am doing yoga, pilates and kick boxing. According to my yoga instructor my mantra is enchanting beauty. I love that! I am finding that my left arm, left pectoral and the scapula muscle on my back are very weak. This is due to the hockey puck-sized tumor my surgeon removed back in January. I am having a hard time strengthening those muscles again ... it is very painful. Most people who have lymph nodes removed go through physical therapy. I, however, am trying to do this on my own. If they remove more lymph nodes during my mastectomy (which they most likely will), I will probably have to have physical therapy to regain strength in my arms. I think I may have overworked the scapula muscle on my back last night in yoga and that is creating a difficult day for me today. At least I will have all weekend to rest and recover since I will be in my chemo trance at my parents house. I still have no feeling on the upper back of my arm. The nerves are no longer working there and I don't believe at this point that the feeling will come back. But the good news is this is where I can request to have my flu shot. Haha!
I have round three of chemotherapy on Friday (so be sending me your warm thoughts and prayers, please) and I am already starting to get anxious about it. My Dad, brother, Kere and Bronwyn will be there supporting me during treatment. My nurse Jessie said that you apparently remember the last time you were there and the outcome of the poison they put in your body. Your body then starts to create anxiety based on those memories and feelings. I am just so sick of going through all of this. It is the most horrible thing I have ever had to endure and I am just so tired ... mentally, physically, emotionally and even spiritually. I just need a break from my life. After this treatment I think my oncologist, Dr. Heyer, will rerun my MRI and PETscan to see where we are at. I am actually excited about that. I have been visualizing my treatments working and killing all those stupid cancer cells, but I would certainly like some reassurance from the tests that all of this is working. I just want this cancer gone and for all of this to be over. I need this to end ...
I have started working out once or twice a day now which has proved to be a great stress and anxiety reliever. I am doing yoga, pilates and kick boxing. According to my yoga instructor my mantra is enchanting beauty. I love that! I am finding that my left arm, left pectoral and the scapula muscle on my back are very weak. This is due to the hockey puck-sized tumor my surgeon removed back in January. I am having a hard time strengthening those muscles again ... it is very painful. Most people who have lymph nodes removed go through physical therapy. I, however, am trying to do this on my own. If they remove more lymph nodes during my mastectomy (which they most likely will), I will probably have to have physical therapy to regain strength in my arms. I think I may have overworked the scapula muscle on my back last night in yoga and that is creating a difficult day for me today. At least I will have all weekend to rest and recover since I will be in my chemo trance at my parents house. I still have no feeling on the upper back of my arm. The nerves are no longer working there and I don't believe at this point that the feeling will come back. But the good news is this is where I can request to have my flu shot. Haha!
I have round three of chemotherapy on Friday (so be sending me your warm thoughts and prayers, please) and I am already starting to get anxious about it. My Dad, brother, Kere and Bronwyn will be there supporting me during treatment. My nurse Jessie said that you apparently remember the last time you were there and the outcome of the poison they put in your body. Your body then starts to create anxiety based on those memories and feelings. I am just so sick of going through all of this. It is the most horrible thing I have ever had to endure and I am just so tired ... mentally, physically, emotionally and even spiritually. I just need a break from my life. After this treatment I think my oncologist, Dr. Heyer, will rerun my MRI and PETscan to see where we are at. I am actually excited about that. I have been visualizing my treatments working and killing all those stupid cancer cells, but I would certainly like some reassurance from the tests that all of this is working. I just want this cancer gone and for all of this to be over. I need this to end ...
Sunday, March 9, 2008
3/9/2008: Cute Chin Up
Well, I am a third of the way through my chemotherapy now, which makes me very happy. By the end of the month I will be halfway finished. Round two of chemotherapy came with several new challenges. They started me off with the Taxotere and within only 10 to 15 minutes I had shortness of breath, my throat and chest tightened, I was wheezing and coughing, and could not breathe. The nursed rushed in, clamped off the IV, and switched me to saline and Benedryl, which made me SO sleepy and just about knocked me out completely. They told me to take my asthma inhaler while they gave me the Benedryl in the IV and from that point on I was fine. Apparently, there was a girl in the room next to me that didn't know what an allergic reaction felt like and had a full blown attack with a swollen, red face, etc. Poor girl. Luckily I have experienced that before and knew something wasn't right immediately. The first time I had Taxotere I had no reaction. The nurse said it can happen on the first or second session usually. Thanks for the heads up, lady! Sheesh!My blood work came back pretty normal, although I am still anemic, but not to the point that they are extremely concerned. All in all they are thrilled that I am holding up as well as I am, especially with NO nausea. I have actually gained a few pounds, which I attribute solely to my obsession with Milano cookies, which the nurses are very happy about. Quite frankly, I couldn't care less about the weight gain. I just want this stupid cancer gone ... forever. People keep saying how they wish they could do these tests and treatments for me. Trust me, I would never wish this on anyone. It is the most horrible thing I have ever experienced and my goal in life is to help others now and do everything in my power to find a cure. One in eight women will develop breast cancer. Can you believe that ... 1 in 8!? I can't help but stop when I see a group of young girls playing together and count off now. Or when I have girls night with my friends I look around and count to eight. It scares me to death, especially for our children and their children. It's not fair.
Dad, Joey and Nicole came to treatment to keep me company, which seemed to make the time pass so much quicker. Nicole brought a pink container full of fun things to play with, like a pink cowgirl hat, mustaches, confetti wigs and more. We took a couple of silly pictures which I plan to have up later this weekend. My nurse threatened to take away my beloved BlackBerry at one point, but I assured her it was texts and e-mails from my friends and family. However, I did sneak in one or two work e-mails in (shhh!).
Unfortunately, the steroids I take for three days around my chemotherapy treatments to prevent allergic reactions are giving me the same acidic tummy that I had last time, but now my oncologist put me on over-the-counter Prilosec, which is helping a lot. This whole ordeal is trial and error since everyone reacts differently. I feel a lot more tired this time than last, but this is apparently normal since the chemotherapy builds in your body each time. Not only that, but I have a killer urinary tract infection which is incredibly pleasant. (Obviously, I am being sarcastic.) The oncologist had to call in an antibiotic this morning for me to start taking. Yay ... more meds.
Last night my Mom brought home mounds of presents from her friends at Lees Corner Elementary School. Carly Anne (my Yorkshire terrier), of course, thought it was Christmas again and had her head in every gift bag, especially the ones with sweets! It was hilarious. After a long and trying day, there was nothing better than sitting there with my family reading cards and letters of faith, hope and love, looking through all the generous gifts, and truly feeling the support from our friends. It gave me such a renewed sense of strength and purpose.
Today I plan to do absolutely nothing. I just got out of bed to write this e-mail and am headed right back. The mind is racing, but the body is moving in slow motion. There is nothing more frustrating for me, but I am trying to be patient with myself. I am keeping my "cute chin up" as my co-worker Sarah tells me to, but some days are more challenging than others.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
2/23/2008: Torn and Tattered
Dad, Joey and I arrived at the oncologists office Friday for my Herceptin treatment and the office was closed from the ice storm. We waiting for about an hour and no one showed up, contacted me ... nothing. Very frustrating! I am still waiting to hear what that means as far as keeping me on schedule. Hopefully I can get it Monday or just skip it, since I get Herceptin every Friday.
Well, my nurse tried to warn me not to be too surprised if day seven after chemotherapy was my hardest (since that's usually when your white blood count will drop the lowest, then start replenishing itself). I thought once I got through yesterday that I was safe ... I was mistaken when I awoke this morning to my disaster of a body.
Now, this isn't as bad as I felt earlier this week with the cold/sinus infection, but it certainly is a much weaker and tired version of me. Which frustrates me to no end. I hate being slowed down.
I have always envied Angelina Jolie's lips and dreamed of luscious plump pout, but oh my ... I don't want the pain that goes along with it, please! My lips are swollen, peeling and bright pink. If they weren't hurting and peeling, I would be ecstatic. Haha! In addition, if I open my mouth wide it cracks and bleeds. So just trying to eat has become extremely painful. The inside of my mouth, gums and skin, are swollen and raw. Ugh. Have no fear though, I am still eating like a crazy woman. Stupid steroids!
My nails started streaking brown and breaking terribly, so I went to get them done today so that they don't look so horrible. Some patients actually lose their nails completely from the Taxotere medication. Mine are just SUPER ugly. At least they don't hurt. I can deal with it just being a vanity issue.
My body is absolutely exhausted and my mouth is angry. I hope that this is the worst of it and that my body will start putting itself back together. I have a feeling this will be the ugly cycle after each treatment. Lord, give me patience and strength.
Well, my nurse tried to warn me not to be too surprised if day seven after chemotherapy was my hardest (since that's usually when your white blood count will drop the lowest, then start replenishing itself). I thought once I got through yesterday that I was safe ... I was mistaken when I awoke this morning to my disaster of a body.
Now, this isn't as bad as I felt earlier this week with the cold/sinus infection, but it certainly is a much weaker and tired version of me. Which frustrates me to no end. I hate being slowed down.
I have always envied Angelina Jolie's lips and dreamed of luscious plump pout, but oh my ... I don't want the pain that goes along with it, please! My lips are swollen, peeling and bright pink. If they weren't hurting and peeling, I would be ecstatic. Haha! In addition, if I open my mouth wide it cracks and bleeds. So just trying to eat has become extremely painful. The inside of my mouth, gums and skin, are swollen and raw. Ugh. Have no fear though, I am still eating like a crazy woman. Stupid steroids!
My nails started streaking brown and breaking terribly, so I went to get them done today so that they don't look so horrible. Some patients actually lose their nails completely from the Taxotere medication. Mine are just SUPER ugly. At least they don't hurt. I can deal with it just being a vanity issue.
My body is absolutely exhausted and my mouth is angry. I hope that this is the worst of it and that my body will start putting itself back together. I have a feeling this will be the ugly cycle after each treatment. Lord, give me patience and strength.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
2/20/2008: Infection Strikes
It seems as though my overzealous nature has gotten me into trouble. This morning I woke up and wasn't even able to get out of bed. I laid there crying and cursing my fatigued body. I attempted to go into work, but just walking down my three flights of stairs proved to be excruciating.
I called the oncologist and they asked to see me ASAP. Never something you want to hear. I managed to make it to the doctors ... it was just slow moving for this weak, little body. Once there, they took my vitals and did blood work. It only took four times of poking me until they found the vein. Lord, I am tiring of that. My nurse and oncologist both stopped to see me and were worried about nausea. I told them I was eating like a crazy woman and could not stop putting food in my mouth. They laughed and said that was exactly what they wanted to hear. I think they were pleased that my humor and spirit were still intact despite feeling horrible.
My white blood count came back higher than they wanted, which means there is infection/bacteria in my body. Blah. My throat is killing me, so they did a strep swab, but think I most likely have a sinus infection or bad cold. They put me on an antibiotic and told me I should be feeling much better by tomorrow. Thank goodness, because I cannot take this lethargic nature too much longer.
I asked if the fatigue I am feeling is normal after chemotherapy. The nurse said yes and no. Apparently, after your first chemo your body freaks out wondering what the hell you have just done to it. So, for three to four days after you can become very physically tired. The treatments get better from that point on. In my case, she said that I was feeling some of the chemo fatigue, but mostly this infection is what is bringing me down. Stupid infection!
I am home from work today trying to learn how to rest. I am not very good at slowing down and sitting still for too long. I make myself a bit nutty.
I hope you all have a great week and I will keep you posted on my journey.
I called the oncologist and they asked to see me ASAP. Never something you want to hear. I managed to make it to the doctors ... it was just slow moving for this weak, little body. Once there, they took my vitals and did blood work. It only took four times of poking me until they found the vein. Lord, I am tiring of that. My nurse and oncologist both stopped to see me and were worried about nausea. I told them I was eating like a crazy woman and could not stop putting food in my mouth. They laughed and said that was exactly what they wanted to hear. I think they were pleased that my humor and spirit were still intact despite feeling horrible.
My white blood count came back higher than they wanted, which means there is infection/bacteria in my body. Blah. My throat is killing me, so they did a strep swab, but think I most likely have a sinus infection or bad cold. They put me on an antibiotic and told me I should be feeling much better by tomorrow. Thank goodness, because I cannot take this lethargic nature too much longer.
I asked if the fatigue I am feeling is normal after chemotherapy. The nurse said yes and no. Apparently, after your first chemo your body freaks out wondering what the hell you have just done to it. So, for three to four days after you can become very physically tired. The treatments get better from that point on. In my case, she said that I was feeling some of the chemo fatigue, but mostly this infection is what is bringing me down. Stupid infection!
I am home from work today trying to learn how to rest. I am not very good at slowing down and sitting still for too long. I make myself a bit nutty.
I hope you all have a great week and I will keep you posted on my journey.
Monday, February 18, 2008
2/18/2008: Slow Motion Sets In
Perhaps this is not the best day to be writing my update since I don't seem to be making much sense in my own head. People are asking how I am feeling and I find it so difficult to describe exactly what treatment is like.
Have you ever stood up too quickly and felt all the blood rush to your head and it seemed as though your mind was moving quickly, but your body was in slow motion? That's basically how I have felt the last 24 hours. Such a weird feeling! My little body just can't keep up with my active mind and that is a frustrating thing for me to try and deal with. I don't like to be slowed down. (Just ask my parents and brother how irritated I was yesterday that my body was not working the way I wanted it to. I was one grumpy girl!)
Despite my strange slow-motion-robot feeling, I am back at work today! My co-workers have been getting me lunch, etc. since my little legs shake when I stand up. (Oh my ... I am not going to be able to deal with getting old.) I am really sensitive to smells, so a couple of times I have had waves of nausea, but nothing lasting more than ten seconds. All in all, I have been doing surprisingly well for the kickoff chemotherapy treatment.
Besides the obvious fatigue and weakness, my bones ache from the shot I had to give myself in the stomach the day after treatment. Apparently, the injection stimulates the bone marrow to create more white blood cells and that can cause pain in the sternum, hips and thigh bones. Nothing a little Tylenol can't fix! The inside of my mouth is peeling along with my lips, which is an annoyance, but certainly nothing I cannot handle. I just hate when things don't taste right. My gassy, acidic tummy seems to be back on track with a little Zantec to help it out. The doctor said that was normal for someone with IBS like I have. As long as I have food in my tummy, I feel fine.
My only concern today is that I have a sore throat which according to my oncologist is not a side effect of the medications. I have been asked to take my temperature periodically throughout the day and keep up the fluids. They are afraid this may be the onset of the flu. Let's hope not! If I do get a temperature, then off to the hospital I go. BLAH!
I just wanted to let you all know that I am OK and just plugging along as best I can. I appreciate all the prayers, warm thoughts, love and support being sent to me and my family. This is obviously not just a hard thing for me to deal with, but for my entire family to battle along side me. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.
Have you ever stood up too quickly and felt all the blood rush to your head and it seemed as though your mind was moving quickly, but your body was in slow motion? That's basically how I have felt the last 24 hours. Such a weird feeling! My little body just can't keep up with my active mind and that is a frustrating thing for me to try and deal with. I don't like to be slowed down. (Just ask my parents and brother how irritated I was yesterday that my body was not working the way I wanted it to. I was one grumpy girl!)
Despite my strange slow-motion-robot feeling, I am back at work today! My co-workers have been getting me lunch, etc. since my little legs shake when I stand up. (Oh my ... I am not going to be able to deal with getting old.) I am really sensitive to smells, so a couple of times I have had waves of nausea, but nothing lasting more than ten seconds. All in all, I have been doing surprisingly well for the kickoff chemotherapy treatment.
Besides the obvious fatigue and weakness, my bones ache from the shot I had to give myself in the stomach the day after treatment. Apparently, the injection stimulates the bone marrow to create more white blood cells and that can cause pain in the sternum, hips and thigh bones. Nothing a little Tylenol can't fix! The inside of my mouth is peeling along with my lips, which is an annoyance, but certainly nothing I cannot handle. I just hate when things don't taste right. My gassy, acidic tummy seems to be back on track with a little Zantec to help it out. The doctor said that was normal for someone with IBS like I have. As long as I have food in my tummy, I feel fine.
My only concern today is that I have a sore throat which according to my oncologist is not a side effect of the medications. I have been asked to take my temperature periodically throughout the day and keep up the fluids. They are afraid this may be the onset of the flu. Let's hope not! If I do get a temperature, then off to the hospital I go. BLAH!
I just wanted to let you all know that I am OK and just plugging along as best I can. I appreciate all the prayers, warm thoughts, love and support being sent to me and my family. This is obviously not just a hard thing for me to deal with, but for my entire family to battle along side me. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
2/16/2008: Round One Down
One treatment down ... ... and only five to go. Yesterday was my first treatment and it wasn't as scary as I originally presumed. My Dad went with me and stayed the full six hours until I was all medicated up. The only annoyances were the soreness when they accessed my port (which is still healing). It felt like someone pushing on a bad bruise. (That will, however, go away in time.) When I got to my last medication (herceptin) of the three I became physically exhausted. It felt as though I had worked out for six hours straight. The only side effect I had was a gassy, acidic tummy, which my oncologist said was natural for my size, the amount of meds, and the fact that I have a history of IBS. (I am sure you are cringing right now for me, Jenn. You know what it's like.) Apparently, these meds don't play well with the digestive system. The trick is to constantly keep something on the tummy so the medications can be absorbed. When I arrived back at my parents house after sleeping in the car on the way home I literally could not keep my eyelids open although my mind was wide awake. What a weird feeling! I slept about a total of nine hours last night. My dog Carly Anne decided to come play under the covers at about 1:30am to make me feel better and Joey (my brother) had arrived home from work around that time so we chatted a bit. I experienced some nausea, so I took a pill, and ate and drank. Didn't take long and I was passed back out again under my new heated blanket ... mmm.
I continue my allergy and nausea pills until Sunday. My nurse said Sunday is the day that I should start to feel the actual fatigue because I go off the steroid, which is a upper, and within 7 days of treatment my white blood cells will hit the lowest they will go. All in all, this coming week will be challenging due to the amount of medication they gave me. Thursday I meet with my oncologist to follow up on how I did with my first chemo treatment. Hopefully I can tell him, "GREAT ... keep 'em coming."
Lastly, my bone scan that took place on Monday came back completely clear. The sixth rib did not light up, nor did anything else. They presume the rib lighting up on the PETscan was probably a lymph node at the back of the breast tissue that they misread. YAY! So, the cancer is completely contained as far as we know. GREAT NEWS! My heart scan showed that the muscle is strong and can take these meds like a champ. And my blood work was stellar. The nurse was extremely pleased at what my benchmark looks like. She said, "Besides cancer, you are incredibly healthy and will just bounce right back from this after treatment."
All in all, I survived round one and now that I know what to expect, I am so much more at ease with all this. (Please know that I took the books, stuffed animals, good luck charms, etc. with me to help me through the process.) Also, all the text messages, phone calls, friends wearing pink, e-mails, warm thoughts, prayers and other outpouring of support truly surrounded me yesterday and lifted me up. It was exactly what I needed to get through this. Thank you ... for being you. I am incredible blessed to have people like you in my life who genuinely love and care for me.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
2/14/2008: Morning Before Chemo
Well, tomorrow is the big day and I would be lying if I didn't say that I am scared. I allowed myself to feel the anxiety of the situation (as suggested by my best friend, Kere) and I cried myself to sleep last night. But, I really did need that. Today is a new day and although I am still nervous about the unknown, I am ready to start the fight, officially. I have put behind all the "Why me's?" and the "I don't deserve this" spouts and have fully accepted what is happening ... and it really is OK (as Mom always says ... my ROCK).
I took my first round of medications this morning to prepare for chemotherapy and let me tell you, OH MY ... holy side effects. I took Decadron and have to take it twice a day for three days. If you have taken this medication before, then you know what I am talking about. I feel like I have had six caffeine pills. If you have spoken with me today, then forgive me for my quick speech and run-on sentences. I feel like the energizer bunny! And I get to take another round tonight, so no shut eye for me. (Nothing new in that department.) My condo is going to be SO clean by the end of this whole ordeal. One VP here at work suggested I come to her home and entertain her two-year-old daughter with my energy since she doesn't sleep at night, too. This masters thesis is going to get done in no time!
On that topic, I applied for graduation this week and sent in all my paperwork. (This was a huge feat for me. I am really proud of myself!) I have exceeded the necessary credits and am dead-set on completing my masters degree this time next year (defense and all). My adviser thinks I am completely nuts (which is true), but she told me that I am ahead of the other students in the program, so more power to me. My professors know about my breast cancer and have offered an adjusted schedule for me. I thanked them and let them know that if I felt it needed to come to that, then we would discuss it at that point, but not until then. Life plays out normally as far as I am concerned. No use in crawling under the covers and taking three months off from living.
Strangely enough, I have several friends who are now going through biopsies and awaiting cancer results. They have reached out to me for support, so I have decided to document everything that I am going through in both a journalistic and pictorial format and create a website of my journey to hopefully help others. (Actually, Kere is the one creating the website for me.) It will show the good, the bad and the bald. I have been speaking to a local girl who went to UVA and was diagnosed at the age of 25 with breast cancer. She has been an amazing resource. She has a page also (www.jaminelson.com) and told me how therapeutic it is for her to share her story. She and I are a lot alike. I will certainly let you know when the website goes live so you can follow my journey if you'd like. (Or just come for the drama -- see me go nuts cutting my hair like Britney Spears. Kere, you will be taking the pictures. Prepare yourself for my insanity!) I promise it won't be all tears ... that's just not me. This whole thing is an adventure and does not consume my life ... it is only a small part of it! My friend James told me a year from now I will be telling people at parties that I survived breast cancer simply for shock value.
I took my first round of medications this morning to prepare for chemotherapy and let me tell you, OH MY ... holy side effects. I took Decadron and have to take it twice a day for three days. If you have taken this medication before, then you know what I am talking about. I feel like I have had six caffeine pills. If you have spoken with me today, then forgive me for my quick speech and run-on sentences. I feel like the energizer bunny! And I get to take another round tonight, so no shut eye for me. (Nothing new in that department.) My condo is going to be SO clean by the end of this whole ordeal. One VP here at work suggested I come to her home and entertain her two-year-old daughter with my energy since she doesn't sleep at night, too. This masters thesis is going to get done in no time!
On that topic, I applied for graduation this week and sent in all my paperwork. (This was a huge feat for me. I am really proud of myself!) I have exceeded the necessary credits and am dead-set on completing my masters degree this time next year (defense and all). My adviser thinks I am completely nuts (which is true), but she told me that I am ahead of the other students in the program, so more power to me. My professors know about my breast cancer and have offered an adjusted schedule for me. I thanked them and let them know that if I felt it needed to come to that, then we would discuss it at that point, but not until then. Life plays out normally as far as I am concerned. No use in crawling under the covers and taking three months off from living.
Strangely enough, I have several friends who are now going through biopsies and awaiting cancer results. They have reached out to me for support, so I have decided to document everything that I am going through in both a journalistic and pictorial format and create a website of my journey to hopefully help others. (Actually, Kere is the one creating the website for me.) It will show the good, the bad and the bald. I have been speaking to a local girl who went to UVA and was diagnosed at the age of 25 with breast cancer. She has been an amazing resource. She has a page also (www.jaminelson.com) and told me how therapeutic it is for her to share her story. She and I are a lot alike. I will certainly let you know when the website goes live so you can follow my journey if you'd like. (Or just come for the drama -- see me go nuts cutting my hair like Britney Spears. Kere, you will be taking the pictures. Prepare yourself for my insanity!) I promise it won't be all tears ... that's just not me. This whole thing is an adventure and does not consume my life ... it is only a small part of it! My friend James told me a year from now I will be telling people at parties that I survived breast cancer simply for shock value.
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