Episode 18: End of Cycle 1

I thought I'd just say hello to everyone before I go in for another round of treatment tomorrow (one down, five to go). This has not been a good three weeks. And, no, I am not as strong as everyone likes to think. I am now on a new prescription to help keep the panic attacks under control. I'm a little miffed because that was not in the book.

On Saturday, I couldn't catch my breath and started hyper-ventilating. One of the results of hyper-ventilating is tingling in the arms followed by a clenching of the hands with an inability to un-clench. Again, not in the book! Guess who got a little freaked out (me and a couple of loved ones who were watching). Being Saturday, of course all the nurses stations were closed for the weekend so I finally consented to calling 9-1-1. The 9-1-1 operator asked if I was breathing normally. As a matter of fact, no, it's quite rapid. Two minutes later I heard the sirens at the fire station which is just a block away from our house and the trucks racing down the street.

So here's the thing. We live in a very small town where everyone knows everyone and our firefighters are a team of very dedicated and compassionate volunteer men. Well, here I am lying in bed gasping for breath, hear the sirens, open my eyes and what should I see but four very handsome, rugged, all decked-out firemen looking at me. Thanks a lot guys. Now, my breathing is too rapid and my pulse is too fast. I feel like such a fool. How will I face them at the next baseball game? (I wonder if they've ever considered doing a calendar.)

On one of my better days, I got a photo of me rocking the bald. You can see my new pic on the side there. I shaved my head in preparation for baldness but so far it hasn't happened yet. Watch that be the one side effect I don't get. Haha.

To end on a slightly more serious note, please keep praying. I'm getting nauseous just thinking about the next round. They've promised to change things for me so hopefully it'll be better but at the moment that's small consolation.

Just breathe 1-2-3 just breathe 1-2-3 just breathe 1-2-3 ...

Episode 17: Cycle 1 Days 1-10

Good Morning, Everyone. It's sunrise on Good Friday. This episode will be quite brief. Walking to the computer has worn me out so I will be going back to bed very shortly.

Chemo is every bit as miserable as we thought it would be. In fact, I'm not going to go into details because, even in memory, I do not want to re-live the puki-ness (as in puke) of this week. All I'm gong to say about it is that all my so-called bravery, positive thinking, and optimism of earlier episodes flew out the window like birds happy to escape leaving me to be a shattered lonely figure on the floor with just my bucket and retchedness (as in retch) for company.

Short term pain, long term gain. Short term pain, long term gain. Short term pain, long term gain. Repeat.

I'm not a superstitious person. I don't believe the universe sends us omens or warnings. It doesn't take a psychic to know that walking under a ladder is bad luck. Of course it is. Somebody might fall. Oh that reminds me, I read in a book that people born on June 13 are psychic. Shouldn't I have known that? (Get it? Known that? Haha.) However, I do love symbolism. And at 5 AM this morning (Good Friday), it occurred to me that it was 22 years ago on Easter Sunday that I was baptized. I think I previously mentioned one of my favourite quotes: It's Friday now but Sunday's a-coming. In other words, right now life really sucks but it's not going to stay that way. Sunday is on the way and we will rejoice! So, in order to enjoy the symbolism of the occasion I have decided to shave my head today (rather than wait for my hair to fall out in 8" long clumps) and go to Easter dinner on Sunday with a bright pink scarf and the assurance that our trials and sufferings are temporary and there will come a time, say it with me: We Will Rejoice!

May you all have a blessed Easter weekend.

Episode 16: We Have a Plan

Thank you so so much for positive feedback. Very few people post comments directly on the blog (I'm not even sure it works) but people who tell me personally that they "enjoy" the reading give me a boost that keeps me going for days. I have struggled all week with writing this latest episode. I want to write and keep people informed but, quite honestly, I've been feeling down and that's when I don't enjoy writing. Tonight I received a phone call from a dear friend who gave me the lift I needed to sit down and write again.

Yesterday, we watched Saving Mr. Banks. I've never thought of myself as a fan of Mary Poppins* but wouldn't it be great if someone could just whisk their way into my life and make it all better. Apparently, the author of Mary Poppins (P.L. Travers) had a difficult childhood and as a result became cold and bitter. Likewise, Walt Disney (Sr.) also had a difficult childhood but came to a different conclusion. He learned the art of forgiveness and of hope. My quotation isn't perfect but his lovely speech in reply to "Mary Poppins isn't real" goes something like this:

No, no, no. She's as real as can be to my daughters and thousands of other kids, adults too. ... I don't tell you (my childhood) to make you sad, Ms Travers. I don't. I love my life. I think it's a miracle ... but I'm tired. I'm tired of remembering (the harshness). Aren't you tired, Ms Travers? Now, we all have our sad tales but don't you want to finish the story? Let it go? Don't you want to have a story that isn't dictated by the past? ... That's what story tellers do. We restore order with imagination. We instill hope, again and again and again. ... George Banks will be redeemed. He will be saved, if not in life, then in imagination. ... And when it's time to fly a kite, thousands will rejoice.

I mention this because also yesterday I was annoyed by a frivolous article from a woman who complained that her boobs weren't the right shape (I'm not speaking about a medically necessary change) and how she wished there was a fairy godmother to take them away from her. I couldn't let it go. I had to answer. Rather abruptly, I told her that she could borrow my fairy godmother who goes by the name of breast cancer. I have no sympathy these days for whiners but when I told my husband about it I realized that I just might be becoming bitter. I must guard against that. It's no one else's fault that this has happened to me. And wasn't it I who said that this is a great time for boob jokes? Six months ago, I might have been laughing at her silliness myself.

This link is not silly at all. Instead it's rather sobering but I want to share it with you. It came from the Globe & Mail and I found the comments very insightful: http://m.theglobeandmail.com/life/health-and-fitness/health/adventures-in-lymphomaland-our-readers-share-their-stories-about-life-with-cancer/article17721226/?service=mobile


So here's the plan.** Last Tuesday, I met with the chemotherapy specialist. I start chemotherapy next Thursday. I've been told to plan to be at the hospital for about five hours and then I get to go home. (All the ginger ale I want, and soup and sandwiches for lunch. I'm so excited.) I guess that means most of the lousy feelings happen at home. There will be six sessions of chemo spaced out over 18 weeks. My chemo package is the FEC/D combination (Fluourouracil, Epirubicin, Cyclophosphamide, Docetaxel) which is given through IV. There will also be some other pills and injections to help with the side effects. Nurses will be coming to the house for this. I really don't know what to expect so yes, I'm scared.

If I can I will keep you updated but if you don't hear from me for awhile it most likely means that I'm feeling like barnyard dirt. I'd like to mention, also, that messages of encouragement are gratefully received but you likely won't hear back from me. I generally don't have the energy for the telephone and my brain is a little full these days so expressions of gratitude are easily mis-placed. Please don't feel forgotten, ignored or offended. You may not see it but I am hanging cards, watering plants, feasting on treats, and cuddling in comforters.

Until next time ...
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*Oddly, though, Mary Poppins and Chitty, Chitty, Bang, Bang are the two movies I've seen more often than any other and if someone were to identify me by a particular housekeeper/nanny model, I probably just might resemble Mary Poppins.

**In Episode 14, I explained that we were waiting for the results from the HER2 testing. As it turns out, they were negative which is good news for me. One less problem to worry about. And another piece of good news is that it's highly unlikely that my cancer is genetic. Tomorrow, I will meet with the radiation specialist. After chemo, there will be radiation but I'll get those details next week.