There's been a lot of talk lately about how I'm coming to the end of my journey with cancer. (Assuming it never returns, and I'm going to make that assumption for my own peace of mind.) Everyone seems to bring it up. My doctors, my therapist, even Mark and myself. A very tangible evidence of the end will arrive at the end of this week when I go in to have my port removed. It's not any kind of major surgery. They won't even put me under full sedation. My surgeon says it'll be over in a blink and the last remaining "cancer" tie will be gone from my body. Not counting the scars.
I told my therapist a few weeks back when she asked me how I was feeling about it coming to an end that when I look back on it, it almost feels like it wasn't real. It all came and went so very fast. It feels like some strange interlude outside of time, as if everything came to a halt while I dealt with this thing that had grown inside me. And now it's gone and in a couple of days, the contraption they stuck inside me to help them fight it will be gone, too. Which is why I suppose I have found the past ten days to be so blasted frustrating.
It's no secret that we have dogs. It's also no secret that our dogs are very much a part of our family. They are, for all intents and purposes, our children. And if you have a problem with people who love their pets like kids and generally treat them as such, you might as well stop reading right now.
Katie is our baby girl. That's her on the left in both pics at the top of my blog. Mark spotted her in a mall pet store a few months after we came home from a trip to England in the spring of 2001. Mark had been wanting a Bulldog his entire life. And Katie pretty much wrapped him around her paw the first moment he saw her. She stepped on her food bowl and flipped it up and over onto her head, then proceeded to wear it like some kind of hat. That was that. He was in love. He didn't bring her home that day, but over the next day or so talked himself into it by saying that he'd stop by after work and if she was still there, then he'd bring her home. She was still there, so he snatched her up. I can still picture her running around out in the yard when he got home. We had three other dogs at the time, Malcolm, Beulah, and Wiggles. Katie went after all of them with brazen bravado. Poor Beulah was just too shocked to know how to react. Anyway, it took us a couple of days to settle on a name for her, but we eventually chose Katie-Bar-the-Door, because she was like a little ball of wild energy and true to her breed name, pretty much bulled her way into and through everything.
It didn't take us long to learn that Katie was flat out the smartest dog either Mark or I had ever known. And he owned a Border Collie when he was a kid. Katie picked up on words we spoke and learned them without us actually trying to teach them to her. I have joked for years that if Katie had opposable thumbs, she's be ruling the world by now. Anyway, despite the fact that Briscoe is four years younger than she is, Katie still somehow manages to be the baby.
Katie used to worry us because she grazed grass like a cow. I mean she'll go outside and literally graze from one patch to another, eating all the way. We'd always heard that dogs ate grass when they were sick, so we worried until I finally bought a book or looked it up on the internet or something and found that some dogs are just that way. It's the ones who don't regularly eat grass and then suddenly start doing it that you have to worry about. Which brings up Briscoe. Katie is something of an atypical Bulldog. We read books about them when she was a baby, that warned of issues with drool and flatulence and snoring and breathing issues, so we kept waiting for all that to develop, but it never did. So we decided to get her a little brother and along came Briscoe. He, unlike Katie, is the quintessential Bulldog. He drools consistently. And he snores loud enough to wake the dead, sometimes. And the gas! Oh, Lord, the gas can be bad enough to bring tears to your eyes! Plus, he has other issues that are typical of Bullies, including some trouble with breathing and eating due to the cramped nature of his snout and throat. He has this lovely thing he does where he goes and drinks half a gallon of water, then walks into the living room and regurgitates it all right back up. He does it with food, too. (The things we'll put up with for the sake of love.) He's done it most of his life, which is why it doesn't freak us out any longer. It's just part of who he is. Katie, on the other hand, never gets sick.
This is why Mark and I got very worried about her on Sunday night, Jan. 8th. She started vomiting and kept on vomiting until there just wasn't anything left to come up. Eventually, we decided to take her to the same ER Vet who'd saved her life a few years back when she developed Pyometra, which is an infection of the uterus requiring immediate surgery. So we rushed her all the way up to Wilder, KY. Keep in mind that Mark was due to fly out to New Jersey first thing Monday morning. It was about 12:30AM when we decided to take her. We got her there and they took a look at her and confirmed that something was definitely up. We were afraid that she might have swallowed a piece of a toy. Katie is a serious power chewer. She absolutely must kill anything that squeaks. Which is why we buy her the hardest, toughest squeaky things we can find. No fluffy little fake rabbits for her. She'd have them gutted and de-stuffed within a matter of seconds. She got a new toy for Christmas that we hoped might last more than a couple of days. She killed it faster than we expected, though, and sat about ripping it to pieces out of spite because it had dared to SQUEAK at her!
Katie has never, ever been one to actually eat her toys. Or shoes or wires or any of the other things puppies often find so appealing. Briscoe, however, did take the opportunity to use the gear shift in my car as a chew toy when he was still a little thing. It still has the teeth marks. Anyway, despite the fact that Katie has never made it a habit to actually eat the things she chews on, we started worrying that she might have swallowed a piece of this toy. That's what we told the vet on duty that night and pretty much what she expected had happened. She took Katie off to take an x-ray, then came back a few minutes later and I knew from the look on her face that it was something bad.
The good news was that Katie had not eaten any pieces of her toy. The bad news was she had some kind of enormous mass in her abdomen that was so large it was shoving all her organs out of place. The vet that night wasn't sure if it was one of her kidneys or something else. It was just too big to be sure. So we left Katie there and got home just in time to take a short 45 minute nap before we had to be back up and on the way to the airport. Later that morning I got a call from the day vet saying that they wanted to do surgery. We'd already figured that was going to have to happen. The surgeon called a little while later and said he'd go in and try to get all of whatever it was out. He did the surgery that afternoon.
Bulldogs are always risky to operate on. Their short noses make breathing normally a bit of an issue. Add in sedation and it can become a dangerous situation very quickly. But there was no choice. So I waited on pins and needles all afternoon until they finally called and said the surgery was over and she was fine.
I won't go into all the gory details about what he found when he opened her up. Suffice it to say that this thing was nearly the size of a soccer ball. It was full of fluid and pretty much deflated when he cut into it. He took what he could out, but there was a lot he could not remove because it was very extensive. He sent biopsies off to be tested and I went and picked her up on Tuesday afternoon.
She was very sore and any movement at all was hard for her. Plus, we found out pretty quick that she had some trouble keeping food and even water down. (It was a bit like having two Briscoe's in the house.) Mark came home on Thursday afternoon and had a meeting he had to go to. It wound up being after seven by the time we got home. There was a message from the vet waiting saying he had the biopsy results. I didn't call him back that night. Mark had another meeting on Friday and had to go before I even had the chance to call the vet. When I did, he told me that it was cancer.
What's the likelihood? I get done with cancer and now my dog has it? So, I wound up taking her back up there Friday afternoon so the surgeon could check her over and he started telling me about what she had and how they'd treat it. Chemo, of course. What else do you do for cancer? He mentions the names of a couple of the chemos they use and low and behold, one of them is Adriamycin. I had to stop him there. I explained that I'd just finished cancer treatment and one of the chemo's I received was Adriamycin. I was plenty familiar with it.
We came back home with Katie. Just like me, her surgical wound had to heal before they could start the chemo. But the problems holding down food never did quite go away. Then, this afternoon she suddenly stopped being able to hold down anything at all, again. It was like deja vu from the night we took her up to the ER. I called the vet and he said to bring her in. They took her away from me again, to give her fluids and medicine to try to stop the vomiting and nausea. It looks like she might get her first chemo tomorrow. It will depend on how she does tonight.
The surgeon believes that the cancer in her abdomen is so extensive that it is essentially causing a blockage, which is why she keeps having problems keeping down food. His hope is that the chemo will shrink the size of all those tissues, thereby making it easier for her to eat comfortably. I called to check on her earlier this evening and at that time she still hadn't eaten anything, but then they'd just put food in her pen right before I called. All her vitals were fine, which at least means she isn't getting markedly worse. I'll call in the morning to check on her and to see if they're going to go ahead with the chemo.
So, here I am, trying not to worry about her and praying that she'll improve and not take a turn for the worse. I cannot tell you how much I love that dog. She is so very sweet and gave me more comfort and laughter during my own cancer journey than I could ever express. I am trying very hard not to worry about what I cannot change. It isn't easy, though. I miss my baby girl and I am very afraid that this may be the tip of the iceberg when it comes to missing her. Because if she doesn't respond the meds, then there's only going to be one other option. The very thought of it makes me nauseous.
I've been fighting tears all afternoon. I don't want to lose my baby girl. Not now. Not yet. Please, Lord, let her hang on. Let the medicine work. Give me strength, Lord, to face whatever is coming.
Abby
Showing posts with label coping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coping. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Monday, November 7, 2011
The End of This Trail...
It is so hard to believe that I'm pretty much at the the end of my cancer journey. I got my final treatment last Thursday. I have other appointments. I will get a heart scan and then see my oncologist in early December. I'll make regular trips to the treatment center to get my port flushed until they finally decide to remove it. I guess that will be the true end of it all.
I'll keep the port for a while, just in case a new problem arises. Lord willing, that won't be an issue. But better safe than sorry. I'll have a second mammogram on the breast that had the tumor some time early next year. I'll see my doctors regularly for the next year or so, then, assuming nothing new pops up, I'll be done with the cancer.
Of course, I'll never be truly rid of it. I'll spend the rest of my life feeling a bit like Damocles, always aware that there is a sword dangling overhead that could potentially drop at any moment. The difference, of course, is that unlike Damocles, I cannot simply choose to return to my carefree life. No cancer survivor can. Gosh, that sounds morbid, but I don't mean for it to. I'm simply pointing out that a cancer diagnosis is always life altering. Once that diagnosis is made, things change forever. Or they do for most of us. Because even if the cancer itself never returns, there are other consequences of having beaten the disease. Like the damage that can be done by the treatments that might not show up until years later. It becomes something of a waiting game, always wondering if that sword is going to come crashing down one day when you least expect it.
The point, I suppose, is that we have to keep going forward in spite of the danger we might face down the road. I can't just sit here and wait for the cancer to return or for my heart to fail or for any other frightening, unexpected, life-altering event. I have to live. I have to accept that things are different and always will be. I have to reject the part of me that is afraid of what might happen. It would be easy to live in fear. But I refuse to do it. Oh, I worry more now about little things. I mean, anything that "feels" wrong is enough to make me debate whether I need to talk to the doctor about it. Usually, I do. Because it would just be stupid not to. But I do not and will not let those concerns rule me.
God has given me freedom from the urge to worry or be afraid. To reject that freedom would be to reject Him. I won't be foolish, ignoring possible problems, but neither will I let fears of what might (or might not) happen at some point in the future ruin today. I had cancer. It will take years - a decade - of not seeing it return before doctors will give me the title of "Cancer Free." That's a long way off. And those words don't really mean anything in the grand scheme of things anyway. Because cancer doesn't operate on anyone's timetable. No matter how many times doctors and insurance companies tell us that we're not at the age where we need to worry about it, there will still be women like me who get a diagnosis in their thirties - or even younger. There will be women like my mother-in-law who get diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor that is generally considered a "man's cancer." There will be people who beat it and go for decades before it suddenly rears it's ugly head once more. There will be children who barely begin to live before this damned disease takes their lives. And if it isn't cancer, then it will be something else. Life just can't be planned out like a business conference.
It is up to each of us to decide how we will live. Are we going to go through life with a massive chip on our shoulders, just daring God to knock it off? Or will we trust that He is always in control? That everything we experience, even the tragic, painful, or terrible things, are part of a grander plan that we cannot begin to see or understand? That's the belief I choose. I cannot fathom how anyone could do otherwise. Life is not easy. As the cliche says, no one ever promised it would be a bed of roses. And even if they had, roses have thorns. It is our responsibility to grow and learn from every experience. Our responsibility to understand that the world does not revolve around us. We don't have to understand everything. We don't have to have the answers to every single question. We just have to keep moving forward, keep growing and learning and trusting. And if we can do that, I think most of us will find that life comes with much more laughter and love than tears and pain. Because peace doesn't come from a lack of tribulation and storms, it comes from knowing that there is always a safe place in the heart of those storms. As one of my favorite expressions says, "God doesn't always quiet the storm, sometimes He quiets His child." Jesus said, "peace, be still" to the wind and waves, but He said it to us, too. Sometimes we just have to obey and let the waves and wind rage on around us.
I'll keep the port for a while, just in case a new problem arises. Lord willing, that won't be an issue. But better safe than sorry. I'll have a second mammogram on the breast that had the tumor some time early next year. I'll see my doctors regularly for the next year or so, then, assuming nothing new pops up, I'll be done with the cancer.
Of course, I'll never be truly rid of it. I'll spend the rest of my life feeling a bit like Damocles, always aware that there is a sword dangling overhead that could potentially drop at any moment. The difference, of course, is that unlike Damocles, I cannot simply choose to return to my carefree life. No cancer survivor can. Gosh, that sounds morbid, but I don't mean for it to. I'm simply pointing out that a cancer diagnosis is always life altering. Once that diagnosis is made, things change forever. Or they do for most of us. Because even if the cancer itself never returns, there are other consequences of having beaten the disease. Like the damage that can be done by the treatments that might not show up until years later. It becomes something of a waiting game, always wondering if that sword is going to come crashing down one day when you least expect it.
The point, I suppose, is that we have to keep going forward in spite of the danger we might face down the road. I can't just sit here and wait for the cancer to return or for my heart to fail or for any other frightening, unexpected, life-altering event. I have to live. I have to accept that things are different and always will be. I have to reject the part of me that is afraid of what might happen. It would be easy to live in fear. But I refuse to do it. Oh, I worry more now about little things. I mean, anything that "feels" wrong is enough to make me debate whether I need to talk to the doctor about it. Usually, I do. Because it would just be stupid not to. But I do not and will not let those concerns rule me.
God has given me freedom from the urge to worry or be afraid. To reject that freedom would be to reject Him. I won't be foolish, ignoring possible problems, but neither will I let fears of what might (or might not) happen at some point in the future ruin today. I had cancer. It will take years - a decade - of not seeing it return before doctors will give me the title of "Cancer Free." That's a long way off. And those words don't really mean anything in the grand scheme of things anyway. Because cancer doesn't operate on anyone's timetable. No matter how many times doctors and insurance companies tell us that we're not at the age where we need to worry about it, there will still be women like me who get a diagnosis in their thirties - or even younger. There will be women like my mother-in-law who get diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor that is generally considered a "man's cancer." There will be people who beat it and go for decades before it suddenly rears it's ugly head once more. There will be children who barely begin to live before this damned disease takes their lives. And if it isn't cancer, then it will be something else. Life just can't be planned out like a business conference.
It is up to each of us to decide how we will live. Are we going to go through life with a massive chip on our shoulders, just daring God to knock it off? Or will we trust that He is always in control? That everything we experience, even the tragic, painful, or terrible things, are part of a grander plan that we cannot begin to see or understand? That's the belief I choose. I cannot fathom how anyone could do otherwise. Life is not easy. As the cliche says, no one ever promised it would be a bed of roses. And even if they had, roses have thorns. It is our responsibility to grow and learn from every experience. Our responsibility to understand that the world does not revolve around us. We don't have to understand everything. We don't have to have the answers to every single question. We just have to keep moving forward, keep growing and learning and trusting. And if we can do that, I think most of us will find that life comes with much more laughter and love than tears and pain. Because peace doesn't come from a lack of tribulation and storms, it comes from knowing that there is always a safe place in the heart of those storms. As one of my favorite expressions says, "God doesn't always quiet the storm, sometimes He quiets His child." Jesus said, "peace, be still" to the wind and waves, but He said it to us, too. Sometimes we just have to obey and let the waves and wind rage on around us.
Monday, October 17, 2011
My, How Time Flies...
It's almost over. There is one treatment left to go. There will still be a few more months of cancer related tests and appointments, of course. And the port will have to be flushed every six weeks until they decide to remove it. But after the first week in November, my cancer treatment will officially be over.
Looking back, it hardly seems possible that it has been more than a year since that moment when my doctor got that worried look on her face while doing my breast exam. It also seems hard to believe that that moment was truly the worst one of the whole journey. That instant when the whole world seemed to stop and my stomach dipped uneasily as I realized she'd found something she didn't like. That single split second when my mind leapt forward to the idea of cancer.
I know we're all different. From our individual personalities to our faith - or lack thereof - to our specific cancers and the treatments they require. Compared to so many others, I think I got off easy. I did not need a mastectomy. The cancer, while aggressive, was confined to that single tumor, making a lumpectomy the best option. My chemo was potent, but relatively short in duration. (Only 4 treatments of the worst stuff compared to others who've needed far more.) Eight total chemo treatments and six or so weeks of radiation just seemed to fly by.
When I look back, it's actually kind of hard to remember just how difficult it was. The pain could be intense at times. And the radiation left me feeling like a severely overcooked slab of meat, complete with blisters and peeling skin. There is still soreness. My breast varies from being mildly sore like an overworked muscle to being so sensitive that washing it in the shower is uncomfortable. It feels different than the other one. And while the Herceptin that I've been getting for the past year carries only one real side effect, it's a serious one. Potential heart failure at any point down the road. So that's something we'll have to keep an eye on. But all in all, I still count myself as having been profoundly blessed. Because I know I had it easy.
I think that's one of biggest keys to getting through the treatment. We have to keep in mind that it could always, ALWAYS, be so much worse. Worse for me would be if it were someone other than myself. Because one of the things I have realized is that I find it profoundly easier to be the patient than to be the caregiver. Not because I dislike caring for others, but because it absolutely breaks my heart to see those I love in pain. I'm a fixer, I guess. Sadly, cancer isn't something that can be hugged or loved away. Plus, I have no fear at all of dying. Losing those I love, however, is something I abhor.
Caring for and loving a cancer patient was infinitely more difficult for me than actually being the patient myself. Seeing what cancer did to my sister and mother-in-law hurt me in ways my own cancer couldn't begin to. I would gladly take on every illness of those I love just to keep them from having to go through it.
Which brings up another issue. My darling hubby has been diagnosed with type II diabetes. I have suspected it for a while and could kick myself for not forcing him to get tested sooner. It took his eyesight going haywire for him to finally admit something was wrong. Sure enough, his A1C test revealed that, at least for the past few months, his blood glucose levels have been hovering somewhere around 300! No wonder his eyesight went crazy. Funny thing is, it actually got better. A lot better. He's been on diabetes medication for about a month now and his eyesight is returning to normal, though it is still not back to where it was before.
He's a good patient, once he's actually convinced that there's a problem. He watches what he eats and was testing all the time until he got a handle on how certain foods effect his levels. I don't know if he's where he ultimately needs to be with his medication dosage, but he's come a long way from the high 200s and low 300s he was testing at in the beginning.
Ultimately, I see this as just another thing to be thankful for. Because God saw fit to give him a symptom he couldn't ignore. Because he's now being treated and is losing weight to boot. (Now, if I could just do the same. [sigh]) I'm almost finished with my treatment, he's easing into a new job, and life is incredibly good. I wake up every day thinking about how blessed we are.
So, I suggest that anyone out there who is struggling to find the good in their cancer battle might want to simply be thankful that it is them in the battle instead of their spouse, parents, siblings, or children. That's what I am most thankful for.
Looking back, it hardly seems possible that it has been more than a year since that moment when my doctor got that worried look on her face while doing my breast exam. It also seems hard to believe that that moment was truly the worst one of the whole journey. That instant when the whole world seemed to stop and my stomach dipped uneasily as I realized she'd found something she didn't like. That single split second when my mind leapt forward to the idea of cancer.
I know we're all different. From our individual personalities to our faith - or lack thereof - to our specific cancers and the treatments they require. Compared to so many others, I think I got off easy. I did not need a mastectomy. The cancer, while aggressive, was confined to that single tumor, making a lumpectomy the best option. My chemo was potent, but relatively short in duration. (Only 4 treatments of the worst stuff compared to others who've needed far more.) Eight total chemo treatments and six or so weeks of radiation just seemed to fly by.
When I look back, it's actually kind of hard to remember just how difficult it was. The pain could be intense at times. And the radiation left me feeling like a severely overcooked slab of meat, complete with blisters and peeling skin. There is still soreness. My breast varies from being mildly sore like an overworked muscle to being so sensitive that washing it in the shower is uncomfortable. It feels different than the other one. And while the Herceptin that I've been getting for the past year carries only one real side effect, it's a serious one. Potential heart failure at any point down the road. So that's something we'll have to keep an eye on. But all in all, I still count myself as having been profoundly blessed. Because I know I had it easy.
I think that's one of biggest keys to getting through the treatment. We have to keep in mind that it could always, ALWAYS, be so much worse. Worse for me would be if it were someone other than myself. Because one of the things I have realized is that I find it profoundly easier to be the patient than to be the caregiver. Not because I dislike caring for others, but because it absolutely breaks my heart to see those I love in pain. I'm a fixer, I guess. Sadly, cancer isn't something that can be hugged or loved away. Plus, I have no fear at all of dying. Losing those I love, however, is something I abhor.
Caring for and loving a cancer patient was infinitely more difficult for me than actually being the patient myself. Seeing what cancer did to my sister and mother-in-law hurt me in ways my own cancer couldn't begin to. I would gladly take on every illness of those I love just to keep them from having to go through it.
Which brings up another issue. My darling hubby has been diagnosed with type II diabetes. I have suspected it for a while and could kick myself for not forcing him to get tested sooner. It took his eyesight going haywire for him to finally admit something was wrong. Sure enough, his A1C test revealed that, at least for the past few months, his blood glucose levels have been hovering somewhere around 300! No wonder his eyesight went crazy. Funny thing is, it actually got better. A lot better. He's been on diabetes medication for about a month now and his eyesight is returning to normal, though it is still not back to where it was before.
He's a good patient, once he's actually convinced that there's a problem. He watches what he eats and was testing all the time until he got a handle on how certain foods effect his levels. I don't know if he's where he ultimately needs to be with his medication dosage, but he's come a long way from the high 200s and low 300s he was testing at in the beginning.
Ultimately, I see this as just another thing to be thankful for. Because God saw fit to give him a symptom he couldn't ignore. Because he's now being treated and is losing weight to boot. (Now, if I could just do the same. [sigh]) I'm almost finished with my treatment, he's easing into a new job, and life is incredibly good. I wake up every day thinking about how blessed we are.
So, I suggest that anyone out there who is struggling to find the good in their cancer battle might want to simply be thankful that it is them in the battle instead of their spouse, parents, siblings, or children. That's what I am most thankful for.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Simple Truths...
Life is not the way it's supposed to be. It's the way it is. The way you cope with it is what makes the difference.
This was the opening line of an email forwarded to me by a couple of my friends. It struck me that I know so many people out there who spend all their time being angry or disappointed or defeated by the loss of what they believe was their "destiny." We all have dreams when we're kids. Most of us go through a series of "what I want to be when I grow up" phases. Firemen (or women), police officers, cowboys, princesses, teachers, wives, husbands, parents, rock stars... the list goes on and on. For most of us, our dreams change and grow along with us. When I was in my teens I remember an acquaintance who wanted nothing in the world more than to grow up and get married and have babies. There are plenty of women out there who want children with a desire bordering on desperation. Men have their share of obsessions about who and what they want to be and want to have. We are all raised with notions of how life should be. Fairy tales probably don't help matters. They always end with everyone living "happily ever after." Worse, that ending always comes with the implication that "happily ever after" is something that just happens with no work at all.
I'm not knocking fairy tales. I actually believe "happily ever after" CAN happen. I think it's happened to me. And while I would never, ever tell someone how to raise their children, I find it sad when I see children missing out on the wonder and magic of imagination given free reign. Sure, the real world is out there, lurking, and sooner or later we all have to learn to face it and deal with it. But these days kids seem to be growing up faster and faster all the time and that's a shame. We spend the majority of our lives as adults. Our childhoods ought to be filled with joy and laughter and impossible dreams. Reality hits us all too soon and I, for one, wish kids could hold on to their innocence as long as possible.
The problem is, too many out there grow up thinking they have some kind of RIGHT to get things their way. They get mad when things don't turn out the way they thought they should, or the way they were raised to believe things "should" turn out. As wonderful as the fairy tales are, I think we all need to remember that the real world just doesn't work that way. Like I said, I don't believe "happily ever after" is a myth, I just happen to know that it doesn't come easy and it takes a lot of work. And this is where the trouble starts. I'll use myself as an example.
I was supposed to go to college and get married. I was NOT supposed to wake up one day at 17 to find my mother collapsed on the bathroom floor. I wasn't supposed to be sitting in the ICU of a hospital on the one year anniversary of my engagement waiting for my mother to die. I wasn't supposed to bury my father three years later. I wasn't supposed to find out the day after 9/11 that my sister was dying of cancer. I wasn't supposed to watch my mother-in-law, and best friend, lose the ability to speak because of the terminal brain cancer that killed her. And I wasn't supposed to go in for a routine yearly exam and come out with breast cancer. I was barely 39. I have no family history of breast cancer at all. None of these things were ever a part of my childhood dreams. Until the day my mother died, I never even considered that losing her was a possibility. For a lot of years, I was lost to my anger and grief over this event. It wasn't "supposed" to happen. But it did. All of it.
I've been told by more than one person that I have a "good" or "wonderful" attitude as I deal with having cancer. Compared to the reactions I've seen in some others, I guess my attitude is a good one. But the reality is, I've learned how to face the often painful and ugly realities of life out of necessity. I lost so much time to depression when my mother died. Even today, more than two decades later, I occasionally have flashes of the old anger and grief. Mostly, I just miss her. I miss my father and my sister. I miss my husband's mom. The anger I once felt over the "unfairness" of it all is pretty much gone. Because the fact is, no one ever promised us that life would be fair. God certainly didn't. He never said that we would sail through life with sunny skies and smooth seas. In fact, He pretty much said the opposite. But that's a lesson too few of us seem to learn.
And this is where that quote above rings so true. Life just never goes the way it's "supposed" to go. Tragedy strikes all the time. One viewing of the news should teach us all that truth. None of the nearly 15,000 who died in Japan expected that to happen. The hundreds who have died in the recent tornadoes that swept through the South didn't plan on that happening. Each person who died in these tragedies left behind family and friends who will now have to grieve. And that's what it all really comes down to. Whether it's the loss of a friend or family member, or the loss of a long held dream, or the loss of personal wealth or health, all of it is loss and inspires varying degrees of grief. How we deal with that grief is what defines us.
I have learned to just let go of preconceived notions of what should or shouldn't happen. I have learned to change what I can and accept what I can't. In short, I have learned to "let go, and let God." I don't always understand why things happen, but I've learned to trust that there's a reason. Being angry helps no one, especially me. Being angry makes us miserable and just makes it harder on those around us. I sincerely believe that the greatest failing of most parents is that they do not teach their children to have an attitude of thankfulness. As Christians, we are supposed to be thankful even in the midst of trials, to be content with what we have instead of always wanting more and more. As a point of fact, I wish everyone knew God and trusted Him. But even those who choose not to do so would do well to learn to appreciate the blessings of what they have instead of being angry about what they don't. It's not that hard to do. Just open your eyes and take a look around you. You will see someone worse off than you. There is always someone who has it harder. I have lost many of my family members, but at least I had loving family. Some kids grow up without ever knowing what it means to be loved and cared for. I have cancer, but my prognosis is good while there are others out there who are told at their diagnosis that they're unlikely to survive. The side effects of cancer treatment aren't easy, but others reacted much worse than I did. I am just stunned by how many people out there can overlook the fact that however bad their situation, it could ALWAYS be worse!
I have encountered people who were bitter about how their life was going. Bitter and angry that they have an illness like cancer. Bitter and full of rage that someone they cared about died. Mad at God and the entire world because their life didn't turn out precisely the way they thought it should have. My response? GROW UP! Life isn't fair. It isn't a fairy tale. It isn't a bed of roses. Pick whatever metaphor you like. The basic truth is that we just don't always get what we want. Sometimes life can be full of grief and pain and tragedy. Sometimes it seems like we barely overcome one tragedy only to be slapped in the face by a new one. We have the choice to either rise above it or wallow in the grief and anger. The easiest way to do this is to stop feeling so sorry for yourself and recognize that it just is what it is and the only thing to do is keep moving forward. Even more importantly, we need to keep in mind that there is a reason for everything. Considering some of the absolutely horrific things I see on the news every single day, I do wonder what good could possibly come from some of it. The terrible things people do to each other every day are just awful. How could any good come of the unspeakable atrocities that are perpetrated on helpless children? Or the crimes and abuses committed against adults for that matter? How can we find any hint of good or benefit in an ill child or loved one? The answer is always the same. WE CAN'T!!!! Only God knows the ultimate outcome. Only He knows where our journey will take us. Only He can see every single aspect of every moment in time. When we try to understand things with our limited hearts and minds we will fail every single time. Because our human nature gets in the way. We start demanding explanations and answers from the One who created us. We start trying to grasp the infinite with our profoundly finite minds and understanding. I'm not trying to make excuses or avoid the very real issue of doubts and fears. I have just learned through my own personal life that the only way I can face the uncertainty and grief and fear in the world is to trust that God is always and forever in complete control. Whether I understand it all or not, He has a plan. He is at work in every moment of my life. The things that I think I cannot endure are tolerable because He makes it so.
The key to dealing with the unexpected changes to our plans and dreams and desires is to simply trust God to always work things out for the best for us. As Garth Brooks said years ago, "sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers." Though I don't actually believe any prayer is unanswered. Sometimes the answer is just "no." Looking back I can certainly think of seasons in my life when I was utterly convinced that I knew what was best for me, that I simply could not endure to go forward if I didn't get whatever it was I thought I wanted or needed. Like the song, I too had an early love that I thought I couldn't live without. Yet here I am, two and a half decades later with the man God knew I would one day meet and love. And I am profoundly grateful that when I was begging God to keep me and my first boyfriend together that He, in His wisdom, said, "No." Wow, am I grateful for that!! I now cannot imagine my life without my precious husband in it. He is my heart, my best friend and companion. His mere presence lifts my heart. God knew what was right for me. He knew the plans He had for me and for Mark and even though I couldn't see it then, He knew that the grief of that moment would be utterly overwhelmed with the joy of being joined to the "right" man in the future. And this is what life is all about for me. Even though I don't understand it, even though some of the things I see or endure break my heart, I know that somehow, some way, some day there will be good that comes from it. Maybe I won't even see it. Maybe it will be a change in someone else's life that I won't even know about until I learn of it in heaven. I can't know everything now. I can't see everything. But God can. And trusting Him is the only way to live. It's the only way to find peace in a world that seems increasingly ugly and harsh.
Thank you, God, for saying no. Thank You for giving me what I need instead of what I want. And thank You for loving me even when I questioned You.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Patience...
I am not a particularly patient person. (And before anyone suggests it, I am far too smart to actually ask the Lord to help me learn to be patient. Not gonna fall for THAT one! LOL) Having cancer pretty much forces a person to at least learn to accept that patience is indeed a virtue, whether you have it or not. The various treatments and tests and countless doctor's appointments leave a person with no choice but to spend a lot of time just sitting around, waiting. Chemo can take hours to get, all while sitting in a chair in a room with others who are in the exact same boat as you are. If you're at one of the larger treatment centers, this usually at least means that you have room for a companion to keep you company and a personal television to watch if that's your choice. I went to the closest treatment center I could find, which meant we were all in a tiny little room that barely had space enough for 3 treatment chairs and a medicine cabinet. I'm not exaggerating here. It's an incredibly small space. There is one television in the room that is on or off according to the whim of whoever gets there first. Which means you watch whatever they're watching, too. I saw several episodes of Bonanza, along with a few days of the new "Let's Make a Deal," "The Price is Right," and an assortment of soap operas.
Mostly I just hooked my iPad up to my headphones and listened to internet radio to drown out the TV. I'm not much of a fan of daytime television.
On a quick side note, KDH is building a new hospital up on top of the hill in Madison and the Cancer Treatment Center will be getting a new facility as well. Hopefully one that will give the nurses more room to work and the patients more room to relax during treatment. I certainly don't want to give the impression that I am anything but grateful for all those who took care of me during my treatment. As small as the KDH treatment center is, everyone there is beyond kind and caring. And while the size of the current center does make it difficult if you're hoping to have a friend or loved one present with you during treatment, that's hardly a reason to refuse to go there. Hopefully the new center will make it easier for everyone; nurses, patients, and the doctor as well. It's all due to be completed in approximately a year.
So, while I am not an inherently patient person, I have learned to tolerate the waiting. I have to say that having my iPad helped tremendously. It made it possible for me to listen to music, read, play cards, do crosswords, and countless other things while I was sitting there. Not to mention that I also use it to keep track of all my medical info. It's one piece of technology that has made my life easier and more convenient. Love the thing!
I've said all this to get to the point that despite almost a year of having to wait for one thing or another, I'm still not a patient person. I get antsy when I have to wait for something. Well, I get antsy when waiting for test results. I've done plenty of this already. From the day my OB/GYN first found the lump right on up until now, waiting to get some test and then waiting to get the results has been an ongoing theme. I don't really worry about what will be found. There's no point in that. From day one I've trusted that whatever came, God would get me through it. (And He certainly has!) But I'm a person who hates not KNOWING what I'm facing. It isn't that I think having knowledge will somehow change things, I just like being informed. I like knowing what's coming, good or bad. I am certainly not one of those people who would be comfortable burying my head in the sand and hoping for the best. I don't care if I'm facing a nightmare so long as I can go into it knowing what's ahead. This is why I researched every aspect of my cancer until I was going cross-eyed from reading. It's why I studied and read up on what the worst case scenario might be even before getting an official cancer diagnosis and stage. Having the info doesn't change what's coming, but it makes it easier for me to face it, I guess.
It has occurred to me that this could be part of the lesson I should be learning from this whole experience. Facing something WITHOUT knowing what to expect might just be the whole point. I'm sure God wants me to learn to trust Him fully, to rest in Him and not be so anxious even when I don't have a clue as to what I might be facing down the road. I'm trying to do that, Lord, I promise.
Okay, back to the issue that has me thinking about this in the first place. I had genetic testing done last week to see if I carry the currently recognized genes that are tied to breast cancer. It must be stated that geneticists believe that the handful of genes that are currently recognized are merely the tip of the iceberg, meaning that eventually there will be many, many more that will be found. So even if someone tests negative with the current BRAC Analysis, that doesn't mean they don't have some kind of genetic anomaly. It just means that if you're positive, then you have some serious thinking to do. I got the call yesterday afternoon that the results of my test are in. We weren't here at the time and by the time we got home, they were gone for the day, so I had to call the office first thing this morning. My radiation oncologist - Dr. Eileen McGarvey, whom I really like - prefers to sit down face to face to discuss the results. On the one hand, this is what I love about her. She's my kind of doctor, meaning she gives a lot of information about whatever it is she's explaining to you. My surgeon - Dr. Amy Gefaldi - is the same way. Love them both! On the other hand, this means I have to wait until tomorrow to see her and get the results of the test. And so, here I am, feeling antsy and hyper and just wishing I knew what they'd found so I could know if I'm going to be facing more testing and/or possibly surgeries, or if I will just be doing the regular routine of preventative healthcare in the future. The anxiousness won't change a thing, but I can't seem to help feeling it. Here's what I'm looking at:
If the test is positive, then I have to sit down and consider how I want to handle it. Being positive means I would be at a higher risk for not only another breast cancer, but ovarian cancer as well. That can be handled a number of ways. I could get more frequent testing, which would include regular monthly breast self exams and a breast exam performed by my doctor twice a year. The heightened risk of ovarian cancer would mean having ovarian ultrasounds twice a year. Of course these tests would be in addition to standards like a yearly pap smear and mammogram. These are what would be considered the most conservative options. From them we swing to the other side of the pendulum where we find more radical options. I could have a bilateral mastectomy, which would obviously reduce the chances of another breast cancer. Besides this surgery, I would have to decide on what kind of reconstruction I would want. More surgeries. And then there is the option to remove my ovaries, which would significantly reduce my chances of developing ovarian cancer. Significant meaning 75% to 90% less chance of getting it. Of course that means entering menopause for good, which would come with some issues of its own.
If the test comes up negative, that unfortunately doesn't mean I'm necessarily off the hook. As I said, the genes that are tested for are just the ones which have been definitively connected to breast cancer. I could be negative for them and positive for one that hasn't been mapped yet. Then again, the fact is that any one of us could be a cancer time bomb just waiting to go off. I've had it once, which means I'm more likely to get it again, but that's not such a big deal when you consider that everyone is cancer free until they aren't any more. Basically, cancer is like any other illness or accident or tragedy that might come upon anyone at any time with no warning at all. We can't lock ourselves in our houses and hide. We have to just live our lives and take on the challenges when they come our way.
It would probably make things easier if I wasn't always feeling so impatient. I see the doctor tomorrow morning to find out my test results. Between now and then I'm going to do my best to not stew on it. Like I said, it's not that I'm worried about what I'll hear. Either way, it's out of my control. But I hate the waiting. I want to get on with whatever will be coming next. [sigh] While I won't pray for patience, I will (and do) pray for peace and strength to not give in to my flawed nature. I'll be back tomorrow to let everyone know what the results are and what the next steps will be. Until then, keep on trusting God. I know I will!
Mostly I just hooked my iPad up to my headphones and listened to internet radio to drown out the TV. I'm not much of a fan of daytime television.
On a quick side note, KDH is building a new hospital up on top of the hill in Madison and the Cancer Treatment Center will be getting a new facility as well. Hopefully one that will give the nurses more room to work and the patients more room to relax during treatment. I certainly don't want to give the impression that I am anything but grateful for all those who took care of me during my treatment. As small as the KDH treatment center is, everyone there is beyond kind and caring. And while the size of the current center does make it difficult if you're hoping to have a friend or loved one present with you during treatment, that's hardly a reason to refuse to go there. Hopefully the new center will make it easier for everyone; nurses, patients, and the doctor as well. It's all due to be completed in approximately a year.
So, while I am not an inherently patient person, I have learned to tolerate the waiting. I have to say that having my iPad helped tremendously. It made it possible for me to listen to music, read, play cards, do crosswords, and countless other things while I was sitting there. Not to mention that I also use it to keep track of all my medical info. It's one piece of technology that has made my life easier and more convenient. Love the thing!
I've said all this to get to the point that despite almost a year of having to wait for one thing or another, I'm still not a patient person. I get antsy when I have to wait for something. Well, I get antsy when waiting for test results. I've done plenty of this already. From the day my OB/GYN first found the lump right on up until now, waiting to get some test and then waiting to get the results has been an ongoing theme. I don't really worry about what will be found. There's no point in that. From day one I've trusted that whatever came, God would get me through it. (And He certainly has!) But I'm a person who hates not KNOWING what I'm facing. It isn't that I think having knowledge will somehow change things, I just like being informed. I like knowing what's coming, good or bad. I am certainly not one of those people who would be comfortable burying my head in the sand and hoping for the best. I don't care if I'm facing a nightmare so long as I can go into it knowing what's ahead. This is why I researched every aspect of my cancer until I was going cross-eyed from reading. It's why I studied and read up on what the worst case scenario might be even before getting an official cancer diagnosis and stage. Having the info doesn't change what's coming, but it makes it easier for me to face it, I guess.
It has occurred to me that this could be part of the lesson I should be learning from this whole experience. Facing something WITHOUT knowing what to expect might just be the whole point. I'm sure God wants me to learn to trust Him fully, to rest in Him and not be so anxious even when I don't have a clue as to what I might be facing down the road. I'm trying to do that, Lord, I promise.
Okay, back to the issue that has me thinking about this in the first place. I had genetic testing done last week to see if I carry the currently recognized genes that are tied to breast cancer. It must be stated that geneticists believe that the handful of genes that are currently recognized are merely the tip of the iceberg, meaning that eventually there will be many, many more that will be found. So even if someone tests negative with the current BRAC Analysis, that doesn't mean they don't have some kind of genetic anomaly. It just means that if you're positive, then you have some serious thinking to do. I got the call yesterday afternoon that the results of my test are in. We weren't here at the time and by the time we got home, they were gone for the day, so I had to call the office first thing this morning. My radiation oncologist - Dr. Eileen McGarvey, whom I really like - prefers to sit down face to face to discuss the results. On the one hand, this is what I love about her. She's my kind of doctor, meaning she gives a lot of information about whatever it is she's explaining to you. My surgeon - Dr. Amy Gefaldi - is the same way. Love them both! On the other hand, this means I have to wait until tomorrow to see her and get the results of the test. And so, here I am, feeling antsy and hyper and just wishing I knew what they'd found so I could know if I'm going to be facing more testing and/or possibly surgeries, or if I will just be doing the regular routine of preventative healthcare in the future. The anxiousness won't change a thing, but I can't seem to help feeling it. Here's what I'm looking at:
If the test is positive, then I have to sit down and consider how I want to handle it. Being positive means I would be at a higher risk for not only another breast cancer, but ovarian cancer as well. That can be handled a number of ways. I could get more frequent testing, which would include regular monthly breast self exams and a breast exam performed by my doctor twice a year. The heightened risk of ovarian cancer would mean having ovarian ultrasounds twice a year. Of course these tests would be in addition to standards like a yearly pap smear and mammogram. These are what would be considered the most conservative options. From them we swing to the other side of the pendulum where we find more radical options. I could have a bilateral mastectomy, which would obviously reduce the chances of another breast cancer. Besides this surgery, I would have to decide on what kind of reconstruction I would want. More surgeries. And then there is the option to remove my ovaries, which would significantly reduce my chances of developing ovarian cancer. Significant meaning 75% to 90% less chance of getting it. Of course that means entering menopause for good, which would come with some issues of its own.
If the test comes up negative, that unfortunately doesn't mean I'm necessarily off the hook. As I said, the genes that are tested for are just the ones which have been definitively connected to breast cancer. I could be negative for them and positive for one that hasn't been mapped yet. Then again, the fact is that any one of us could be a cancer time bomb just waiting to go off. I've had it once, which means I'm more likely to get it again, but that's not such a big deal when you consider that everyone is cancer free until they aren't any more. Basically, cancer is like any other illness or accident or tragedy that might come upon anyone at any time with no warning at all. We can't lock ourselves in our houses and hide. We have to just live our lives and take on the challenges when they come our way.
It would probably make things easier if I wasn't always feeling so impatient. I see the doctor tomorrow morning to find out my test results. Between now and then I'm going to do my best to not stew on it. Like I said, it's not that I'm worried about what I'll hear. Either way, it's out of my control. But I hate the waiting. I want to get on with whatever will be coming next. [sigh] While I won't pray for patience, I will (and do) pray for peace and strength to not give in to my flawed nature. I'll be back tomorrow to let everyone know what the results are and what the next steps will be. Until then, keep on trusting God. I know I will!
Sunday, April 3, 2011
A Closer Look at Radiation Treatments...
So, I've decided to post some pics of the radiation machine and of the effects it can have on the skin. Some of these are a little graphic, but they're the reality of getting radiation therapy for breast cancer. (And other kinds of cancer as well.) We'll start with a few shots of the machine itself and the setup used for breast cancer patients.
Okay, now come the more disturbing images. There are a few of them that show the damage that can be done by the treatments. If you're squeamish, you might want to skip over them.
Here is a list of several websites that deal with the side effects of radiation treatment, as well as offering some ideas for treating the side effects.
Radiation and the Skin
Be a Survivor
American Cancer Society: Radiation Therapy Effects
National Cancer Institute: Radiation Therapy and You
I know the idea of going into radiation therapy can be daunting. But it isn't as bad as it seems. And while some of the above images are scary, the truth is that most of us won't have severe reactions. Like the Chemo, the side effects vary tremendously from one patient to the next. I'm the kind of person who wants to know what the worst case scenario could be so that I don't have to worry about being caught off guard by it if it should happen. Through all my treatment, though, I can honestly say that I have had nothing near the worst of the side effects I have heard others talk about. I won't pretend that chemotherapy and/or radiation therapy is easy. Neither of them is. But it isn't the end of the world. They are temporary. A mere blip in the course of an entire lifetime. If you are facing cancer treatment, don't let it scare you. Inform yourself with every scrap of information you can get your hands on. Research, research, research! That way you won't have to be afraid of it. And trust that God is in control. If you are His child, you have nothing to fear at all because you can rest assured that He will carry you when you cannot carry yourself.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Seven Down, One More to Go!
Well, I've gotten seven of my eight scheduled dense dose chemo treatments. Just one final big bad one to go after this! I am so excited to be done with it. I'll still keep getting the Herceptin through October or so of this year, but it's nothing like the Adriamycin, Cytoxin, or Taxotere. It comes with potential side effects, but not like the others. Potential heart damage is the biggest risk, but no more hair loss, weird/bad/nonexistent taste, digestive issues, body aches and pains, etc. They'll just have to do a heart scan every 3 months or so to make sure the Herceptin isn't doing any damage.
I'm going to wait until I get that final Taxotere treatment before I call my radiologist to see about starting the radiation treatments. I was supposed to have had my 3rd Taxotere (7th overall dense dose chemo) over a week ago, but got sick with a cold or flu like virus. Had a fever of 102 for a while there that Mark and I thought for sure would land me in the hospital again, but the Dr. decided to do some blood work and get some chest x-rays first and since all that came back okay, he just let me go on back home. He went ahead and gave me some antibiotics in spite of the fact that they don't do anything for viruses because he wanted to head off any possible bacterial issues that might just be lurking somewhere inside me. I felt pretty bad for a week or so there. Lots of sinus issues and a really nasty cough that is still trying to linger a little. All in all, though, I'm a lot better than I was. I just get to coughing pretty hard every once in a while, but it's gradually getting better, too.
Mark had it first and of course I got it, too. He was sick at Christmas and by New Year's, I had it. He's still trying to get over it completely himself. He's had a lot of issues with his ears being clogged up, though no pain or apparent infection setting in. He just complains that he can't hear out of one of his ears. He says it's starting to crackle a little though, so he thinks it's about ready to start breaking up. Generally, this has been a tenacious little bug, but with God's help we're beating it!
So, other than the cold, I'm still plodding along. I got my last treatment on Thursday, Jan. 6, one week and 1 day late. Normally, today would be my first day down with the pain, but since it was a day later than usual, I'll be looking at Sunday and Monday being my "flat on my back, too sore to move" days. It's already starting a little. Starts in my shoulders and neck. The muscles start getting tight, then sore. Then the soreness starts spreading everywhere else. My back usually starts aching, then I get a lot of soreness in my legs and feet. There's also usually these odd little "twitches" in my feet, too. Sometime in my hands, though never as bad as my feet so far.
I've already started losing my taste buds. I really hate this part of it. Nothing seems to taste right. Or at least almost nothing does. Mark and I stopped at McDonald's yesterday afternoon and I kept asking him if the ketchup tasted weird or if it was just me. Just me, I'm sure. I really like ketchup, but after these treatments it never seems to taste right. Don't know why. Some things tend to be better. Sweet stuff usually isn't that bad. I had Mark get me a small milkshake after the ketchup fiasco just to try to get the taste out of my mouth. LOL Along with the lack of taste comes this weird feeling in my stomach. Feels like it's full of cotton, bloated, but not with gas. It just feels like it's full of something. Makes it a little sore and also isn't conducive to eating normally. Just one more thing to get through over the next few days.
For some reason, I haven't done as good a job remembering what's good and what isn't with the Taxotere. I had it down pat with the A/C, but this time around it's just not sticking. Maybe because I have 3 weeks (or more when I get sick like I've been) between my treatments. I guess I just keep forgetting what works and what doesn't. I made this roast the other night but it didn't taste quite right to me either. Mark said it was good, but it was just a little bit off to me so I didn't eat as much as I normally would have. Not that it will go to waste. Mark pretty much has it finished off. I think there's just a little bit left in there. He'll probably eat that when he gets in from work. Kinda like a snack. LOL.
Anyway, I'm wondering what I ought to try to eat next. Tomato type stuff (ketchup, pasta sauce, soup, etc.) is pretty much out just because it tastes either weird or almost has no taste at all. I was debating about taco meat (either in tacos or a taco salad) because I can add stuff to it to boost the flavor. Not sure, though. Maybe chili? I've also got some jalapeno poppers in the freezer that I'm thinking about trying. I just don't know. It's hard when I'm not sure what'll work. I tend to lean toward the spicy because at least I can taste the heat. But there's always my old stand by of Fruity Pebbles. I really don't like making a meal of them, though. Not as my only meal. Seems wrong, somehow. And even they don't taste completely normal with the Taxotere.
So, I'm doing good for now, in general. Feeling a little whiny about the lack of taste and by tomorrow I'll be too sore to care if I eat, but it'll pass. It always does. Like I said, just one more of these treatments to get through. I still have the worst of this one ahead, but just knowing that after this there's only one more makes it all seem so much less unpleasant. I'm ready to be done with it. Ready to not have to plan for the down days and the tasteless days. Ready to start healing from all the fatigue and other side effects. It won't be an overnight thing. More than one other breast cancer patient on the Survivor's Network has said that even months (or a year) after the end of chemo, they still weren't fully recovered. It takes a long time for the body to rid itself of all those toxins. Some of the effects may never fully dissipate. But it's certainly better than the alternative. So I know it's going to take some time, but I'm looking forward to the start of that part of my journey.
Gotta go. I've just raided my freezer and brought several things into the kitchen to try to decide what to try to eat. LOL. I'm not even sure what to try to drink, since a lot of that tastes weird, too. I'm just going to keep trying different stuff, I guess, until I remember what works.
Thanks for the prayers I know were sent my way while I was sick. I know they worked. I believe they kept me out of the hospital at the very least. In spite of the fever and sickness, my cell counts have been very good. This is nothing short of a miracle in my opinion. When I got my treatment on Thursday, the nurse said they were excellent. That's pretty impressive. God is just plain awesome! Love to all.
I'm going to wait until I get that final Taxotere treatment before I call my radiologist to see about starting the radiation treatments. I was supposed to have had my 3rd Taxotere (7th overall dense dose chemo) over a week ago, but got sick with a cold or flu like virus. Had a fever of 102 for a while there that Mark and I thought for sure would land me in the hospital again, but the Dr. decided to do some blood work and get some chest x-rays first and since all that came back okay, he just let me go on back home. He went ahead and gave me some antibiotics in spite of the fact that they don't do anything for viruses because he wanted to head off any possible bacterial issues that might just be lurking somewhere inside me. I felt pretty bad for a week or so there. Lots of sinus issues and a really nasty cough that is still trying to linger a little. All in all, though, I'm a lot better than I was. I just get to coughing pretty hard every once in a while, but it's gradually getting better, too.
Mark had it first and of course I got it, too. He was sick at Christmas and by New Year's, I had it. He's still trying to get over it completely himself. He's had a lot of issues with his ears being clogged up, though no pain or apparent infection setting in. He just complains that he can't hear out of one of his ears. He says it's starting to crackle a little though, so he thinks it's about ready to start breaking up. Generally, this has been a tenacious little bug, but with God's help we're beating it!
So, other than the cold, I'm still plodding along. I got my last treatment on Thursday, Jan. 6, one week and 1 day late. Normally, today would be my first day down with the pain, but since it was a day later than usual, I'll be looking at Sunday and Monday being my "flat on my back, too sore to move" days. It's already starting a little. Starts in my shoulders and neck. The muscles start getting tight, then sore. Then the soreness starts spreading everywhere else. My back usually starts aching, then I get a lot of soreness in my legs and feet. There's also usually these odd little "twitches" in my feet, too. Sometime in my hands, though never as bad as my feet so far.
I've already started losing my taste buds. I really hate this part of it. Nothing seems to taste right. Or at least almost nothing does. Mark and I stopped at McDonald's yesterday afternoon and I kept asking him if the ketchup tasted weird or if it was just me. Just me, I'm sure. I really like ketchup, but after these treatments it never seems to taste right. Don't know why. Some things tend to be better. Sweet stuff usually isn't that bad. I had Mark get me a small milkshake after the ketchup fiasco just to try to get the taste out of my mouth. LOL Along with the lack of taste comes this weird feeling in my stomach. Feels like it's full of cotton, bloated, but not with gas. It just feels like it's full of something. Makes it a little sore and also isn't conducive to eating normally. Just one more thing to get through over the next few days.
For some reason, I haven't done as good a job remembering what's good and what isn't with the Taxotere. I had it down pat with the A/C, but this time around it's just not sticking. Maybe because I have 3 weeks (or more when I get sick like I've been) between my treatments. I guess I just keep forgetting what works and what doesn't. I made this roast the other night but it didn't taste quite right to me either. Mark said it was good, but it was just a little bit off to me so I didn't eat as much as I normally would have. Not that it will go to waste. Mark pretty much has it finished off. I think there's just a little bit left in there. He'll probably eat that when he gets in from work. Kinda like a snack. LOL.
Anyway, I'm wondering what I ought to try to eat next. Tomato type stuff (ketchup, pasta sauce, soup, etc.) is pretty much out just because it tastes either weird or almost has no taste at all. I was debating about taco meat (either in tacos or a taco salad) because I can add stuff to it to boost the flavor. Not sure, though. Maybe chili? I've also got some jalapeno poppers in the freezer that I'm thinking about trying. I just don't know. It's hard when I'm not sure what'll work. I tend to lean toward the spicy because at least I can taste the heat. But there's always my old stand by of Fruity Pebbles. I really don't like making a meal of them, though. Not as my only meal. Seems wrong, somehow. And even they don't taste completely normal with the Taxotere.
So, I'm doing good for now, in general. Feeling a little whiny about the lack of taste and by tomorrow I'll be too sore to care if I eat, but it'll pass. It always does. Like I said, just one more of these treatments to get through. I still have the worst of this one ahead, but just knowing that after this there's only one more makes it all seem so much less unpleasant. I'm ready to be done with it. Ready to not have to plan for the down days and the tasteless days. Ready to start healing from all the fatigue and other side effects. It won't be an overnight thing. More than one other breast cancer patient on the Survivor's Network has said that even months (or a year) after the end of chemo, they still weren't fully recovered. It takes a long time for the body to rid itself of all those toxins. Some of the effects may never fully dissipate. But it's certainly better than the alternative. So I know it's going to take some time, but I'm looking forward to the start of that part of my journey.
Gotta go. I've just raided my freezer and brought several things into the kitchen to try to decide what to try to eat. LOL. I'm not even sure what to try to drink, since a lot of that tastes weird, too. I'm just going to keep trying different stuff, I guess, until I remember what works.
Thanks for the prayers I know were sent my way while I was sick. I know they worked. I believe they kept me out of the hospital at the very least. In spite of the fever and sickness, my cell counts have been very good. This is nothing short of a miracle in my opinion. When I got my treatment on Thursday, the nurse said they were excellent. That's pretty impressive. God is just plain awesome! Love to all.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Hilarity as Therapy...
My therapist says my sense of humor is a big part of what helps me get through the stress of having cancer. (Not to leave God out here, because we both also recognize and acknowledge that He is my ultimate Resource.) But laughter certainly helps to overcome the occasionally uncomfortable, unpleasant, and/or outright sickening aspects of reality. I have learned that a good sense of humor is a definite bonus in life. (Jeanne Robertson makes a living spreading this notion. Lord bless you if you don't know who she is. Here's a bit of one of her routines. Click her name above if you want to visit her site.)
Humor as a coping mechanism is nothing but common sense to me. Let's face it, when something that is utterly beyond your control happens, no matter how unpleasant, humiliating, or even frightening, you have two choices in how to deal with it. One) you can work yourself up into a lather, get mad and/or frustrated, and act like an out of control basketcase, or; Two) you can accept the fact that you can't change the situation with as much grace and humor as you can muster. Okay, I don't do grace particularly well. Not in any classic sense of the word, at least. But I can do the humor. I mean, what's the point in driving yourself nuts over something you have no control over? I have cancer. It is sometimes painful, sometimes disgusting, sometimes frightening, but it is almost always absurd as well. In so many ways, it is a surreal experience that just begs to be laughed at. From the chemo brain that of late makes even basic math a chore, (24/3 anyone? Yeah, I had to think about that for a few minutes the other day. *head shakes*) to the utter insanity of the treatment for cancer (which might kill me) being repeated infusions of outright poison (which also might kill me). Yeah, that makes all kinds of logical sense. LOL (I really do laugh when I think about it.)
So I have cancer. Some days it really stinks. Some days I hurt a lot and I won't pretend that I enjoy that or that I don't occasionally get frustrated or just plain sick and tired of being sick and tired. But all in all, even on the days when I feel the worst, I still try to find some humor somewhere. Which is why I absolutely get giddy when I come across something on the internet that I can laugh at. Hence my posts of amusing LOLs from the I Can Haz Cheezburger site on my Facebook page. I'd post some examples, but seriously, there are just too many that make me laugh til I cry to even begin to attempt to pick favorites. Wait, no, I just thought of one from way back that makes me start snickering just thinking about it.
Anyway, I use Google Reader to keep track of my miscellaneous feeds and blogs. Not that I use it all that much on my laptop because I have the Reeder app on my iPad and that's where I do most of my reading. I got on the laptop earlier today, though, to do a little housecleaning on Reader. I'm an organizing freak when it comes to my computer. I have a file folder for everything under the sun, and usually folders within folders just so I can keep everything neatly organized. (As a quick aside, thank you Steve Jobs for finally getting around to getting IOS 4 onto the iPad. Yes, the ability to multitask and to collect my apps into folders makes it an even more awesome toy than before. Just wish you'd given it those abilities out of the box. End of rant.) So I was on Google Reader on my laptop, putting a couple of new feeds into folders when I decided to click on that "Suggestions" link to see just what Google thought I would be interested in. Most of it was junk. In fact, I outright ignored everything I saw until I spotted something called Cake Wrecks. This piqued my interest and then I read the tag line: "When professional cakes go horribly, hilariously wrong." This I had to see.
I have a love/hate relationship with the growing idiocy of humanity. Love because it's hard not to laugh out loud at some of the things I see/hear others write/say with complete seriousness. Hate because I honestly cannot imagine why so many find it so difficult to distinguish the difference between your/you're; their/there/they're; singular and plural; etc. Ex: Mark and I went to the store late the other night. Late because it was Black Friday and neither of us had any interest in braving the crowds. Plus, crowds are flat out dangerous for me these days. Anyway, we were at Wal-Mart wandering down the candy isle. Mark had a sweet tooth. So he's browsing the M & M's when I suddenly catch what a woman right beside us is saying. I'm going to do my best to convey this as it was said. Spelling phonetically may not be my strong suit, though, so bear with me. She was with a young man that I would soon realize was her son. She said, "I'm looking for marshmallow cherry cordials." Only she didn't say "\ˈkȯr-jəl\" she said it more like "\kȯr-dī-ˈȯl\." That's a long "i" sound in the middle followed by a third syllable pronounced something like "all." So, okay, I can understand that some people might not necessarily know how to pronounce cordial, especially as it's one of those words that is not pronounced phonetically. (Never mind that I was also wondering at this point exactly what a marshmallow cherry cordial was. I mean, this is something I've never even heard of, nor can I imagine it. LOL) I did find myself both tempted to chuckle at this pronunciation and inwardly cringing at it at the same time. Then, her son (who was easily in his late teens) replied with, "Is they in a box?" All urge to laugh vanished at this. Is they? Really? He was certainly old enough to know better. I was glad to leave the aisle as the butchery of the English language continued. (She did find her marshmallow cherry cordials, though. Apparently they were little chocolate covered Santa things.)
So this demonstrates my love (can't help but laugh sometimes at how badly people manage to mangle the language they not only grow up speaking and reading, but also supposedly spend 12 or more years in school studying) and hate (HOW in the world can they be so illiterate after spending 12 or more years in school studying English!?!) relationship with poor spelling and/or grammar. And so, back to Cake Wrecks. This blog is run by a husband/wife team (mostly the wife) and a friend who make snarky comments about insanely horrible cake decor that they receive pics of. Many, many of the photos they post are examples of ridiculously bad spelling by cake decorators. I just have to show you this one as an example.
Yes, inexplicably those are bananas and strawberries ringing the top of the cake. And check out that oh-so-baby-girly dirt brown color! And this is just the beginning. I admit that I don't find every post laugh until I cry worthy. Sometimes, it was the comments after the post that finally make me snort with laughter. But the wit that accompanies some of these images - as well as the images themselves - were sometimes enough to make me gasp as I tried to catch my breath from the gales of laughter.
The caption is by the blog writer Jen. Yeah, I know we have the same name. A similar sense of humor, too. LOL She followed this comment up with a second, "(Note: typing that last sentence was actually painful. See what I go through for you?)" Double LOL!!!
Needless to say, I have spent the past long while looking back through many of her posts and laughing my head off. It is just stunningly hilarious (as well as disturbingly sad) that so many supposed "professionals" out there appear to have no grasp of basic English. The above is just one of literally hundreds of examples of misspellings. On this same post is a photo of another cake where the decorator managed to misspell a three letter word. It was supposed to be, "You Did It!" It came out, "You Dit It!" I had to stare at that one in awe for a few seconds. Seriously? They couldn't spell "did?" Like Jen, I found it was making my head ache just a bit. Still, like so much else in life, I figure I might as well laugh at it. Because I cannot change the ignorance of these people. Somehow, they managed to make it all the way through high school without gaining a basic understanding of the English language. We all make mistakes. My grammar is hardly perfect. And anyone can misspell a word. But I'd like to think that if it was my job to make a product for someone else that I'd at least break out a dictionary to make sure I had the words right. Is that so hard? Or do they just not realize how atrocious their spelling/grammar is? Can you say, UNPROFESSIONAL? I hope I mentioned that. Jen only posts cakes that have been done by professionals. IE, a customer somewhere actually paid them money to do it.
It is tragic how this lack of even the most basic grasp of our language is becoming increasingly commonplace. Then again, I know for a fact that at least some of our schools are promoting children to the next grade when they've clearly failed at least part of the previous one. So maybe it isn't the illiterate kids that are the dumb ones, here. Anyway, Jen's blog made me laugh out loud more than once. And just as an FYI, she doesn't only post pics of cakes gone horribly wrong. Once a week she posts what she calls "sweets." Pics of things that are nothing less that pure works of art. Let me find one as an example.
Okay, so I couldn't stop at just one. These cakes are beyond incredible. This is edible artwork. The time, thought, planning and precision that goes into something like this is just amazing. I can't even begin to imagine how someone makes all these flowers!
Anyway, just thought I'd share a few laughs and some Ooh's and Ahh's as well. Learn to laugh at what you can't change. It'll make you - and everyone around you - a lot happier!
Humor as a coping mechanism is nothing but common sense to me. Let's face it, when something that is utterly beyond your control happens, no matter how unpleasant, humiliating, or even frightening, you have two choices in how to deal with it. One) you can work yourself up into a lather, get mad and/or frustrated, and act like an out of control basketcase, or; Two) you can accept the fact that you can't change the situation with as much grace and humor as you can muster. Okay, I don't do grace particularly well. Not in any classic sense of the word, at least. But I can do the humor. I mean, what's the point in driving yourself nuts over something you have no control over? I have cancer. It is sometimes painful, sometimes disgusting, sometimes frightening, but it is almost always absurd as well. In so many ways, it is a surreal experience that just begs to be laughed at. From the chemo brain that of late makes even basic math a chore, (24/3 anyone? Yeah, I had to think about that for a few minutes the other day. *head shakes*) to the utter insanity of the treatment for cancer (which might kill me) being repeated infusions of outright poison (which also might kill me). Yeah, that makes all kinds of logical sense. LOL (I really do laugh when I think about it.)
So I have cancer. Some days it really stinks. Some days I hurt a lot and I won't pretend that I enjoy that or that I don't occasionally get frustrated or just plain sick and tired of being sick and tired. But all in all, even on the days when I feel the worst, I still try to find some humor somewhere. Which is why I absolutely get giddy when I come across something on the internet that I can laugh at. Hence my posts of amusing LOLs from the I Can Haz Cheezburger site on my Facebook page. I'd post some examples, but seriously, there are just too many that make me laugh til I cry to even begin to attempt to pick favorites. Wait, no, I just thought of one from way back that makes me start snickering just thinking about it.
 |
| Yeah, I might be the weirdo in my family. LOL |
Anyway, I use Google Reader to keep track of my miscellaneous feeds and blogs. Not that I use it all that much on my laptop because I have the Reeder app on my iPad and that's where I do most of my reading. I got on the laptop earlier today, though, to do a little housecleaning on Reader. I'm an organizing freak when it comes to my computer. I have a file folder for everything under the sun, and usually folders within folders just so I can keep everything neatly organized. (As a quick aside, thank you Steve Jobs for finally getting around to getting IOS 4 onto the iPad. Yes, the ability to multitask and to collect my apps into folders makes it an even more awesome toy than before. Just wish you'd given it those abilities out of the box. End of rant.) So I was on Google Reader on my laptop, putting a couple of new feeds into folders when I decided to click on that "Suggestions" link to see just what Google thought I would be interested in. Most of it was junk. In fact, I outright ignored everything I saw until I spotted something called Cake Wrecks. This piqued my interest and then I read the tag line: "When professional cakes go horribly, hilariously wrong." This I had to see.
I have a love/hate relationship with the growing idiocy of humanity. Love because it's hard not to laugh out loud at some of the things I see/hear others write/say with complete seriousness. Hate because I honestly cannot imagine why so many find it so difficult to distinguish the difference between your/you're; their/there/they're; singular and plural; etc. Ex: Mark and I went to the store late the other night. Late because it was Black Friday and neither of us had any interest in braving the crowds. Plus, crowds are flat out dangerous for me these days. Anyway, we were at Wal-Mart wandering down the candy isle. Mark had a sweet tooth. So he's browsing the M & M's when I suddenly catch what a woman right beside us is saying. I'm going to do my best to convey this as it was said. Spelling phonetically may not be my strong suit, though, so bear with me. She was with a young man that I would soon realize was her son. She said, "I'm looking for marshmallow cherry cordials." Only she didn't say "\ˈkȯr-jəl\" she said it more like "\kȯr-dī-ˈȯl\." That's a long "i" sound in the middle followed by a third syllable pronounced something like "all." So, okay, I can understand that some people might not necessarily know how to pronounce cordial, especially as it's one of those words that is not pronounced phonetically. (Never mind that I was also wondering at this point exactly what a marshmallow cherry cordial was. I mean, this is something I've never even heard of, nor can I imagine it. LOL) I did find myself both tempted to chuckle at this pronunciation and inwardly cringing at it at the same time. Then, her son (who was easily in his late teens) replied with, "Is they in a box?" All urge to laugh vanished at this. Is they? Really? He was certainly old enough to know better. I was glad to leave the aisle as the butchery of the English language continued. (She did find her marshmallow cherry cordials, though. Apparently they were little chocolate covered Santa things.)
So this demonstrates my love (can't help but laugh sometimes at how badly people manage to mangle the language they not only grow up speaking and reading, but also supposedly spend 12 or more years in school studying) and hate (HOW in the world can they be so illiterate after spending 12 or more years in school studying English!?!) relationship with poor spelling and/or grammar. And so, back to Cake Wrecks. This blog is run by a husband/wife team (mostly the wife) and a friend who make snarky comments about insanely horrible cake decor that they receive pics of. Many, many of the photos they post are examples of ridiculously bad spelling by cake decorators. I just have to show you this one as an example.
 |
| It says, "It a Gril." Original Blog Post |
 | ||||
| Today, we be having's a celebiation of learnir! |
Needless to say, I have spent the past long while looking back through many of her posts and laughing my head off. It is just stunningly hilarious (as well as disturbingly sad) that so many supposed "professionals" out there appear to have no grasp of basic English. The above is just one of literally hundreds of examples of misspellings. On this same post is a photo of another cake where the decorator managed to misspell a three letter word. It was supposed to be, "You Did It!" It came out, "You Dit It!" I had to stare at that one in awe for a few seconds. Seriously? They couldn't spell "did?" Like Jen, I found it was making my head ache just a bit. Still, like so much else in life, I figure I might as well laugh at it. Because I cannot change the ignorance of these people. Somehow, they managed to make it all the way through high school without gaining a basic understanding of the English language. We all make mistakes. My grammar is hardly perfect. And anyone can misspell a word. But I'd like to think that if it was my job to make a product for someone else that I'd at least break out a dictionary to make sure I had the words right. Is that so hard? Or do they just not realize how atrocious their spelling/grammar is? Can you say, UNPROFESSIONAL? I hope I mentioned that. Jen only posts cakes that have been done by professionals. IE, a customer somewhere actually paid them money to do it.
It is tragic how this lack of even the most basic grasp of our language is becoming increasingly commonplace. Then again, I know for a fact that at least some of our schools are promoting children to the next grade when they've clearly failed at least part of the previous one. So maybe it isn't the illiterate kids that are the dumb ones, here. Anyway, Jen's blog made me laugh out loud more than once. And just as an FYI, she doesn't only post pics of cakes gone horribly wrong. Once a week she posts what she calls "sweets." Pics of things that are nothing less that pure works of art. Let me find one as an example.
 |
| I am in awe of how much the fondant looks like fabric. |
 |
| The detail here is just plain amazing. |
 |
| Hours of piping this by hand. I can't even imagine! |
 |
| All of these flowers are hand made from gum paste. Meaning they are edible. As is the beautiful pink bow. And just LOOK at the insane detail of that cross hatch! And the lace! |
 |
| I love orchids. |
Anyway, just thought I'd share a few laughs and some Ooh's and Ahh's as well. Learn to laugh at what you can't change. It'll make you - and everyone around you - a lot happier!
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