Sorry - this was started some time ago, and I need to publish SOMETHING. So I will post this stuff, and then try to catch up. Thanks for continuing to check on my posts!
Gees, I have been WAY behind in posting. I completed session #25 of 25 radiation treatments on March 29th. I am really, REALLY happy to have those treatments behind me, to have my days BACK to myself. Almost like you healthy folks...
I encountered another warrior (my cousin paid me a nice compliment and titled me a Cancer Warrior), around session #14 or so. This was a woman who had accompanied her sister to the radiation clinic. We got to chatting over the jigsaw puzzle that is always in a state of assembly/disassembly in the waiting area. She told me some of their family history, including the fact that they carry an inherited mutated breast cancer gene (BRCA1 / BRCA2). These genes, when not mutated, are tumor suppressors. She herself had had a preventative double mastectomy years before this, after she discovered the mutated gene. And her sister DID experience breast cancer (after my new acquaintance had her own surgery). This disease - cancer - is relentless, folks. I have already heard too many people having multiple bouts, metastasizing to other parts of your body, etc. So I am feeling, more and more, that I am taking the best possible route to (hopefully) eradicate this wild bunch of cells. But it ain't easy, even though I am having fewer side effects than many experience.
The day after I was blessed with the daffodils, I toted my now-open floral bunch in to work with me. L wanted me to show them to a worker in another part of this building (office/warehouse space) - a female who "mans" the office for another lessee. She asked if I had raised them (the blooms), and I told her the origin of the bouquet. So she shared with me that she is also a cancer survivor, undergoing surgery for uterine cancer then radiation and chemo, BUT 20 years ago, when she was only 26. AND - another person who was double-attacked: she eventually developed non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. And has, since that diagnosis, had it go into remission, then recur 6 years after the initial bout. So she is someone that I can relate to - same cancer, and also double-blasted with other health issues. Plus the poor woman has lost her hair THREE times, having chemo with each occurrence of cancer. Yikes!
I had some bouts with diarrhea (always such a pleasant thing to have, or to discuss), but the Saturday and Sunday (31st and April 1st) after my last treatments were the WORST. This is because radiation has a cumulative effect (I am told). But I seem to be on the end of that stuff, so my body is slowly healing. So far, no noticeable skin burns at all. So I'm thinking that I will escape those. And the sex has not become painful, either. They tell me this "burn" (which is what radiation does) will continue to aggravate for weeks after the last treatment. Hoping that I can tolerate any further side effects as well as I did the first 3 chemo sessions.
I have my #4 chemo treatment scheduled for April 23rd. I was hoping for the week before that, but these treatments @ the U of Mn are SO much in demand (how sad is THAT comment?), that the best that could be scheduled was the date I just mentioned.
The hair continues to re-grow. Looks like the stuff on my head is coming back white-ish. But as long as there is Lady Clairol (or whatever brand...), I can handle any color that grows back! Hair on my face continues its return, and eyebrows are filling in again. Eyelashes seem to be ever-so-slowly re-populating, also. I expect the hair in these areas to do a disappearing act once again, when chemo resumes in April. In advance of that treatment, I will celebrate by having that fuzz professionally colored. Yes, I know that this hair will ALSO fall out within 3 weeks or so of beginning my next round of chemo, but dammit -- I want to feel feminine for a little bit. Besides, I have saved a LOT of money in these months where I had NO hair to color. BTW: it takes a very tiny bit of shampoo to lather up my head. I think I could go for MONTHS on a travel-sized bottle of that. Just sayin'.
There were so many loons swimming off the front of L's shore area on Island Lake a week or so ago. At first, we counted 10. And then this grew, as we spotted another bunch to the right of the original batch that we spied. Yup -- 18 of the water birds that are Minnesota's state bird. Love to hear their calls in the spring and summer! A few days after that, we counted (off in the distance a bit) over 40 loons, before we lost count!! Now a pair of them appear to be kinda hangin' around in front of his place. Also spotted a pair of mallards (the mallard with that very beautiful green colored head) in the same general area. And a northern flicker (woodpecker) has been attracted to his yard (on the lake side), seeming to greatly enjoy the plethora of insects it is finding! Interesting to observe that woodpecker "drilling" action, applied to a lawn.
New (additional) kitchen cabinets over the range and refrigerator! L sawed out a horizontal piece of sheetrock, nailed in some cut-to-size two-by-fours between the studs (so the cabinets will have a rock-solid base to be nailed to), and then re-inserted the sheetrock pieces and put an initial coating of tape and "mud" to hold it in place. After several fine-tuning sessions (more mud, painting, and eventual hanging of the new cabinets, the cabinets are awaiting stuffing! Yaaayyyy....
Cold day in Frostbite Falls - temps in the low-30's and wind chills about 10°. Supposed to be in the upper 40's today, but I don't see a chance of THAT happenin'.
Showing posts with label radiation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label radiation. Show all posts
Monday, April 9, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
Radiation and snow
Had my 8th radiation treatment today. In actuality, it should have been #9, but Leap Year Day (Feb. 29th) was a "snow day", and so I cancelled my appointment, along with most all other radiation patients. I was told that only two showed up that day. So that day would have been #5, which pushed my schedule back one day. Only completed radiation treatments #3 - 6 the past week.
L had to get the backhoe charged up, before he could run it to remove the snow from the driveway, which is about 600 ft. long. And it was heavy, HEAVY snow, big and fluffy and extremely "wet" and sticky. The kind of snow that is perfect for making snow men. But the kind of snow that causes grown men to have heart attacks when they have a shovelful of it to toss to the side, and then another shovelful and another and ... L's area received about 8 - 10" in that snowfall, and maybe 2 - 4" in two subsequent snowfalls.
The radiation treatments have had no noticeable side effects thus far. I am told that those will appear around week #3 or so, and will continue for some time AFTER treatment #25 ends (my last one, but who's counting?).
Guess I should explain the "procedure" this treatment follows: you are led into a room which is dominated by a hard-surfaced table, with large, imposing machinery surrounding it. You are told to slip off your footwear and drop your pants. Yes, folks, they did not even mention that a changing room, complete with the expected gown, IS available if you so choose. Now, my first visit included two women and one man in the room, besides myself. I am NOT used to removing my clothes in front of strangers, and DEFINITELY not in front of a man whom I had never even seen before. Even before a gynecological exam, you are left alone in a room, to change into one of those one-size-fits-all "gowns". I am 5' 3", and weigh about 110 - 112 pounds, so those are some pretty generous cover-ups.
As you can imagine, this was pretty intimidating. Then you clamber aboard this table, and they carefully align your tattoos with some laser beams, so they have you in the expected position before they begin zapping you. Did I mention that, as part of my initial visit, when they did the CT scans, that they also stuck needles into my abdomen and hips - 3 places in all - to permanently tattoo me? You are allowed to keep your skivvies on UNTIL you are on this table, then they drape something about the size of a cloth dinner napkin over your "privates" (just barely covered, believe me), and tell you to lower your drawers towards your knees. Yup, any vestiges of modesty, gone. In front of three strangers, or sometimes only TWO strangers. I am told that there are six radiation techs, plus one trainee/student/whatever. In the first three visits, I could swear that I saw MORE than that number. Two have been male.
By treatment number #4, I was ready to do some serious "dumping" on the staff, telling them I could NOT possibly be the only person with serious misgivings about undressing in front of the staff. And THEN, and ONLY then, was I told that, yes, Virginia, there IS a changing room, if I so desired to use one. Yeah, after everybody AND his brother has seen me semi-nude. Big, BIG help. Uh-huh.
So now this is something that I steel myself for, undressing in front of a roomful of strangers. Still unpleasant. Not liking it.
Some "fun" developments: I am having some hair re-growth on my head. Little bit of peach fuzz, which will soon disappear when I resume chemo in April. So, in reality, this is a "tease", but still nice to see that I might re-grow my hair someday. My last chemo was between 5 and 6 weeks ago, so that might give me a target date to look forward to, following my 6th chemo, which will be about the end of May or so. At the rate of hair growth quoted me - 1/2" a month - I will have a whopping 3" of hair by year's end. Another winter to freeze thru...
Have I mentioned that the hair in my nose is also gone? Trust me when I say, I must carry around a kleenex, because once I feel that my nose is running - from eating spicy foods, or triggered by the cold weather up here in Frostbite Falls - I must catch the drips immediately, or risk looking like a toddler with a bad cold.
My eyelashes have thinned considerably, and also my eyebrows, but they are hangin' in there. Also, the hair on my forearms remains. The "peach fuzz" on my face is falling out, but has been slow to do so.
I am so tired of looking so ugly. So, so, tired, so demoralizing. I hate myself, I hate having to deal with a wig. I hope that someone, somewhere, gets something positive out of these posts. I try to stay upbeat, but it ain't easy.
Thanks for reading, once again.
L had to get the backhoe charged up, before he could run it to remove the snow from the driveway, which is about 600 ft. long. And it was heavy, HEAVY snow, big and fluffy and extremely "wet" and sticky. The kind of snow that is perfect for making snow men. But the kind of snow that causes grown men to have heart attacks when they have a shovelful of it to toss to the side, and then another shovelful and another and ... L's area received about 8 - 10" in that snowfall, and maybe 2 - 4" in two subsequent snowfalls.
The radiation treatments have had no noticeable side effects thus far. I am told that those will appear around week #3 or so, and will continue for some time AFTER treatment #25 ends (my last one, but who's counting?).
Guess I should explain the "procedure" this treatment follows: you are led into a room which is dominated by a hard-surfaced table, with large, imposing machinery surrounding it. You are told to slip off your footwear and drop your pants. Yes, folks, they did not even mention that a changing room, complete with the expected gown, IS available if you so choose. Now, my first visit included two women and one man in the room, besides myself. I am NOT used to removing my clothes in front of strangers, and DEFINITELY not in front of a man whom I had never even seen before. Even before a gynecological exam, you are left alone in a room, to change into one of those one-size-fits-all "gowns". I am 5' 3", and weigh about 110 - 112 pounds, so those are some pretty generous cover-ups.
As you can imagine, this was pretty intimidating. Then you clamber aboard this table, and they carefully align your tattoos with some laser beams, so they have you in the expected position before they begin zapping you. Did I mention that, as part of my initial visit, when they did the CT scans, that they also stuck needles into my abdomen and hips - 3 places in all - to permanently tattoo me? You are allowed to keep your skivvies on UNTIL you are on this table, then they drape something about the size of a cloth dinner napkin over your "privates" (just barely covered, believe me), and tell you to lower your drawers towards your knees. Yup, any vestiges of modesty, gone. In front of three strangers, or sometimes only TWO strangers. I am told that there are six radiation techs, plus one trainee/student/whatever. In the first three visits, I could swear that I saw MORE than that number. Two have been male.
By treatment number #4, I was ready to do some serious "dumping" on the staff, telling them I could NOT possibly be the only person with serious misgivings about undressing in front of the staff. And THEN, and ONLY then, was I told that, yes, Virginia, there IS a changing room, if I so desired to use one. Yeah, after everybody AND his brother has seen me semi-nude. Big, BIG help. Uh-huh.
So now this is something that I steel myself for, undressing in front of a roomful of strangers. Still unpleasant. Not liking it.
Some "fun" developments: I am having some hair re-growth on my head. Little bit of peach fuzz, which will soon disappear when I resume chemo in April. So, in reality, this is a "tease", but still nice to see that I might re-grow my hair someday. My last chemo was between 5 and 6 weeks ago, so that might give me a target date to look forward to, following my 6th chemo, which will be about the end of May or so. At the rate of hair growth quoted me - 1/2" a month - I will have a whopping 3" of hair by year's end. Another winter to freeze thru...
Have I mentioned that the hair in my nose is also gone? Trust me when I say, I must carry around a kleenex, because once I feel that my nose is running - from eating spicy foods, or triggered by the cold weather up here in Frostbite Falls - I must catch the drips immediately, or risk looking like a toddler with a bad cold.
My eyelashes have thinned considerably, and also my eyebrows, but they are hangin' in there. Also, the hair on my forearms remains. The "peach fuzz" on my face is falling out, but has been slow to do so.
I am so tired of looking so ugly. So, so, tired, so demoralizing. I hate myself, I hate having to deal with a wig. I hope that someone, somewhere, gets something positive out of these posts. I try to stay upbeat, but it ain't easy.
Thanks for reading, once again.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Just a lazy blogger...
Not much to update, healthwise.
Had CT scans last week on the 15th. This is in preparation for the radiation treatments. The good news is that NOTHING unusual or unexpected showed up in those. So now what DO they target? Apparently this is a preventative round, zapping those areas where cancer WAS found - the now-missing uterus and its small relative, the now-removed lymph node which was positive. According to the doc and to the literature, I will pay a pretty big price for this preventative therapy - at least temporary bladder and bowel problems, and some PERMANENT damage to my vagina. Which I must admit, works VERY well now. I am sure that you will suffer thru my rants when these side effects become obvious and (I am told) painful.
I messaged back-and-forth on FB with a friend who went thru radiation a few years ago, after surgery to remove cancer from his oral cavity and jaw (and no, he NEVER smoked nor chewed tobacco). I mentioned the good results of the CT scans and mused whether I should/would go forward with the radiation. His response was basically that this was a tough call. After his surgery, his docs as well as this same radiation oncologist, advised him that his chances of going WITHOUT radiation and being cancer-free were in the 80 - 90% range. And then, 4 weeks after his surgery, he was diagnosed with a recurrence of that cancer. At which point, he said, radiation was no longer an option.
So I am going forward with the "plan" which will probably, from what I am told, bring my sex life to a screeching halt around the 3-week mark of treatments. Something to look forward to, eh? I hope to recover from the scarring (apparently this is a given) enough to resume some decent lovin'. Will be a painful process to get there.
On a positive note: made it to Florida, to the RV park, for about two weeks. Headed out on the road the day after chemo #3, which was on Jan. 25th. Took our time getting to that RV park, arriving on the afternoon of the 28th. And so, SO enjoyed the warm weather, mostly days in the 70's and 80's. Ahhh... sunshine SO improves the attitude. It was nice to see so many of the Florida bunch, and we enjoyed socializing with many. Then, we reluctantly headed back Feb.11th, arriving the 13th.
Had a nice, extended lunch/chatfest with 3 high school galpals on Valentine's Day. That's ONE way to assure that we get a meal out, on that sweethearts day! Was fun to reconnect with that bunch.
Northern MN, which had pretty much been snow-free and BROWN, decided to emulate winter weather, dumping a few inches of snow on us. Temps are still not TOO bad, hanging in the mid-30's today. Long-range forecast is for a FEW chilly days in the low 20's and teens for highs, but I am thankful that it has NOT been any worse. Hope I can suffer thru the last dregs of winter weather ok. I will have to be driving in the next several weeks (5 weeks of radiation), so I hope to dodge the weather bullet.
Update complete! Catch up with you later.
Had CT scans last week on the 15th. This is in preparation for the radiation treatments. The good news is that NOTHING unusual or unexpected showed up in those. So now what DO they target? Apparently this is a preventative round, zapping those areas where cancer WAS found - the now-missing uterus and its small relative, the now-removed lymph node which was positive. According to the doc and to the literature, I will pay a pretty big price for this preventative therapy - at least temporary bladder and bowel problems, and some PERMANENT damage to my vagina. Which I must admit, works VERY well now. I am sure that you will suffer thru my rants when these side effects become obvious and (I am told) painful.
I messaged back-and-forth on FB with a friend who went thru radiation a few years ago, after surgery to remove cancer from his oral cavity and jaw (and no, he NEVER smoked nor chewed tobacco). I mentioned the good results of the CT scans and mused whether I should/would go forward with the radiation. His response was basically that this was a tough call. After his surgery, his docs as well as this same radiation oncologist, advised him that his chances of going WITHOUT radiation and being cancer-free were in the 80 - 90% range. And then, 4 weeks after his surgery, he was diagnosed with a recurrence of that cancer. At which point, he said, radiation was no longer an option.
So I am going forward with the "plan" which will probably, from what I am told, bring my sex life to a screeching halt around the 3-week mark of treatments. Something to look forward to, eh? I hope to recover from the scarring (apparently this is a given) enough to resume some decent lovin'. Will be a painful process to get there.
On a positive note: made it to Florida, to the RV park, for about two weeks. Headed out on the road the day after chemo #3, which was on Jan. 25th. Took our time getting to that RV park, arriving on the afternoon of the 28th. And so, SO enjoyed the warm weather, mostly days in the 70's and 80's. Ahhh... sunshine SO improves the attitude. It was nice to see so many of the Florida bunch, and we enjoyed socializing with many. Then, we reluctantly headed back Feb.11th, arriving the 13th.
Had a nice, extended lunch/chatfest with 3 high school galpals on Valentine's Day. That's ONE way to assure that we get a meal out, on that sweethearts day! Was fun to reconnect with that bunch.
Northern MN, which had pretty much been snow-free and BROWN, decided to emulate winter weather, dumping a few inches of snow on us. Temps are still not TOO bad, hanging in the mid-30's today. Long-range forecast is for a FEW chilly days in the low 20's and teens for highs, but I am thankful that it has NOT been any worse. Hope I can suffer thru the last dregs of winter weather ok. I will have to be driving in the next several weeks (5 weeks of radiation), so I hope to dodge the weather bullet.
Update complete! Catch up with you later.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
The good news just keeps on comin'
So... met with the radiation oncologist this morning. And I am so, SO looking forward to that process wreaking additional damage on my body.
Here's what will happen: I will have an initial CT scan, so they can identify anything that they think will need radiation. Now this is NOT an ordinary CT scan, since it will also involve a vaginal CT scan. Having experienced a vaginal ultrasound recently, I can tell you that I am NOT looking forward to having another "vaginal" anything done. All dignity, all privacy gone, gone, GONE. They hand you a lubed-up deal and tell you where to place it (3 guesses).
Once the CT stuff is done, then a "plan" will be developed. Basically, I will have 5 weeks of doses (daily, each week, for 25 treatments) of radiation. I am told that they will MARK my body with little dots, to show where the radiation should be directed. I was also told that each session will take about 20 - 30 minutes, most of that to be sure that my body is positioned EXACTLY as needed. This is all while I am naked from the waist down, which I am sure will be EXTREMELY comfortable, right? On a cold, flat, hard surface, in a cold room. Boy, I can hardly wait on this one.
After a couple of weeks, I will apparently have side effects from radiation, which include lack of energy plus internal damage to various parts of my body. Some of those areas include burnt skin or internal tissue, plus damage to my bladder and my bowels. Oh, and to my vagina, too. So: goodbye to what had been a good sex life, I guess. This causes scarring on the upper end of the vagina, and in order to regain full use of this, it has been suggested that I use a vaginal dilator. Oh, more joy and happiness. Not to mention having to buy something that I currently have NO use for, and never wanted to. The bladder damage will cause me to pee more frequently, and the bowel damage will possibly/probably cause diarrhea. The fun, the anticipated laughs, eh? I am only sorry that I have to wait until mid-February to start this round of treatment.
Now, in case you think that all I am doing is feeling sorry for myself, I thought I would share something that I found - written by a woman who also had a cancer diagnosis and did NOT have to have chemo nor radiation. She writes:
I would describe myself as a woman of strong faith with a positive outlook on life. However, with the cancer diagnosis came a deluge of "what-ifs," and cancer began to dominate my thoughts. Fear, anxiety, depression, anger, and sadness were common emotions that plagued me all hours of the day and night. In my quest for information, I discovered the Cancer Concerns Forum on the HysterSister's website. I learned that my "what-ifs" had a name - cancerhead. Time and again this term came up as women described their fears regarding cancer. I found that I was not alone. Psychologists and other experts agree that women diagnosed with cancer respond in similar ways.
1) Denial – There must be some mistake.
2) Anger – Why are you telling me this?
3) Why me? – What did I do, or not do, to deserve this?
4) Resignation – I can’t help myself; it’s beyond my control.
5) Acceptance – I will fight this with everything I’ve got in me.
As I struggled through these various stages, I felt like I was on an emotional roller coaster. I did not want to take this journey or deal with the uncertainty of my future. End of quoted excerpt.
What some of you may not know, is that I have gone through these pissy stages before, when my husband died unexpectedly at age 56, in May of 2008. I found support via some blogs and web sites. Now I am reading some of the SAME "support" statements from cancer sites. Just TOO MUCH to re-visit, you know? Even from the "welcome to this group that you never wanted to join" greetings. TOO MUCH.
The radiation oncologist (who I did like, btw) also said that the healthy reaction I have been experiencing thus far, following 2 rounds of chemo, will NOT last. So I guess I have deteriorating health to look forward to, also. Goodbye, energy, decent appetite, and so on. At least the hair is just about gone, so I won't have to keep sweeping and vacuuming THAT up in a little bit. Good thing, too, since I apparently won't have the energy for that little household chore.
Funny thing is, before this morning's appointment, I was about at step (5), listed above. Now I feel like I am back at step (1). Don't tell me to cheer up, to have a positive attitude. I just don't want to hear it now - if, indeed, ever.
'Bye.
Here's what will happen: I will have an initial CT scan, so they can identify anything that they think will need radiation. Now this is NOT an ordinary CT scan, since it will also involve a vaginal CT scan. Having experienced a vaginal ultrasound recently, I can tell you that I am NOT looking forward to having another "vaginal" anything done. All dignity, all privacy gone, gone, GONE. They hand you a lubed-up deal and tell you where to place it (3 guesses).
Once the CT stuff is done, then a "plan" will be developed. Basically, I will have 5 weeks of doses (daily, each week, for 25 treatments) of radiation. I am told that they will MARK my body with little dots, to show where the radiation should be directed. I was also told that each session will take about 20 - 30 minutes, most of that to be sure that my body is positioned EXACTLY as needed. This is all while I am naked from the waist down, which I am sure will be EXTREMELY comfortable, right? On a cold, flat, hard surface, in a cold room. Boy, I can hardly wait on this one.
After a couple of weeks, I will apparently have side effects from radiation, which include lack of energy plus internal damage to various parts of my body. Some of those areas include burnt skin or internal tissue, plus damage to my bladder and my bowels. Oh, and to my vagina, too. So: goodbye to what had been a good sex life, I guess. This causes scarring on the upper end of the vagina, and in order to regain full use of this, it has been suggested that I use a vaginal dilator. Oh, more joy and happiness. Not to mention having to buy something that I currently have NO use for, and never wanted to. The bladder damage will cause me to pee more frequently, and the bowel damage will possibly/probably cause diarrhea. The fun, the anticipated laughs, eh? I am only sorry that I have to wait until mid-February to start this round of treatment.
Now, in case you think that all I am doing is feeling sorry for myself, I thought I would share something that I found - written by a woman who also had a cancer diagnosis and did NOT have to have chemo nor radiation. She writes:
I would describe myself as a woman of strong faith with a positive outlook on life. However, with the cancer diagnosis came a deluge of "what-ifs," and cancer began to dominate my thoughts. Fear, anxiety, depression, anger, and sadness were common emotions that plagued me all hours of the day and night. In my quest for information, I discovered the Cancer Concerns Forum on the HysterSister's website. I learned that my "what-ifs" had a name - cancerhead. Time and again this term came up as women described their fears regarding cancer. I found that I was not alone. Psychologists and other experts agree that women diagnosed with cancer respond in similar ways.
1) Denial – There must be some mistake.
2) Anger – Why are you telling me this?
3) Why me? – What did I do, or not do, to deserve this?
4) Resignation – I can’t help myself; it’s beyond my control.
5) Acceptance – I will fight this with everything I’ve got in me.
As I struggled through these various stages, I felt like I was on an emotional roller coaster. I did not want to take this journey or deal with the uncertainty of my future. End of quoted excerpt.
What some of you may not know, is that I have gone through these pissy stages before, when my husband died unexpectedly at age 56, in May of 2008. I found support via some blogs and web sites. Now I am reading some of the SAME "support" statements from cancer sites. Just TOO MUCH to re-visit, you know? Even from the "welcome to this group that you never wanted to join" greetings. TOO MUCH.
The radiation oncologist (who I did like, btw) also said that the healthy reaction I have been experiencing thus far, following 2 rounds of chemo, will NOT last. So I guess I have deteriorating health to look forward to, also. Goodbye, energy, decent appetite, and so on. At least the hair is just about gone, so I won't have to keep sweeping and vacuuming THAT up in a little bit. Good thing, too, since I apparently won't have the energy for that little household chore.
Funny thing is, before this morning's appointment, I was about at step (5), listed above. Now I feel like I am back at step (1). Don't tell me to cheer up, to have a positive attitude. I just don't want to hear it now - if, indeed, ever.
'Bye.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Too tough to handle
Well, my life has taken its usual turn into the toilet.
I start chemo next Tuesday, 3 sessions, 21 days apart. Then 21 days after the 3rd session, 5 weeks of radiation, every weekday, weekends off. (cause to celebrate, yes?). Then resume chemo, 3 more sessions. That effectively screws me for the next 6 + months.
Bald and freezing in this frostbitten part of the country. Lowered white cell count (hello, infections), lowered red cell count (hello, fatigue and anemia), disappearance of all body hair. As if the very treatments are not enough, I will spare you (for now) the other probable side effects.
Had to order a wig and pay extra for the expedited shipping. Otherwise, it will not be here soon enough to insulate my bald head. And a cap to just wear around the house and to sleep in. Homes are pretty cool during the winters up here, and if I am too cold, I awaken and shiver. Already bought myself an electric throw (smaller than an electric blanket - just need enough to cover ME). And I regularly sleep with sox on (don't like to be cold AT ALL).
I am angry -- so SO angry. I wish God would find another Job. This particular one wants so badly to resign from the position that she did NOT sign up for. I thought I cried a lot when my husband died. That is nothing, compared to the tears I am shedding so frequently now.
I know that I will be the subject of gossip, although people who DO talk about these kinds of things, just do not see it that way. I have a few CLOSE friends that I do and will talk with. But those phone calls about "how are you doing?" just do not fly. If you can't be supportive and genuinely mean it, don't bother. Don't tell me what has worked for you (unless you have gone thru these treatments). A very nice acquaintance recently contacted me via e-mail. She went thru chemo for breast cancer several years ago and has already mentioned some good things to me.
The septic-system guy told her that someone undergoing chemo can "kill" a septic system. Huh. Poison for me, poison for someone's septic system when I visit 'em. If it was warm outside, I would volunteer to pee outside. But it isn't, so I won't.
Every time I brush my hair, or wash or comb it, or dig it out of the collar of my winter jacket, I remind myself that I won't be doing this much longer. And I am sad. Hair is so much of what a woman perceives herself to be. Those who remark that "it's only hair" (said by those who have NOT had this wonderful experience) - you can take a flying (fill in the blank). This is not comforting to tell anyone, and especially not to tell a woman. I will spend the next 6 + months feeling and looking absolutely crummy. Trying to eat when there is no appetite, trying to sleep when I am absolutely exhausted yet too miserable to nap, trying to keep warm when my body weight is still not that great, trying to avoid infections (yeah, no one ever coughs or sneezes in this wintry area), trying to get things done when the energy level is down.
My friend (who lives in Texas' Hill Country) told me that Robin Roberts (an ABC news person) merrily went about her "usual" life while dealing with breast cancer. And this friend told me that she discovered that Ms. Roberts was able to do this because she could afford a drug that costs $6,000 dollars and which really beefs up ones energy level. My friend was not that fortunate. Finally, towards the end of her treatment and with her blood counts very, VERY low, she had this drug and realized how nice it would have been, if she could have afforded it all along. There is no justice, no mercy, no equality, where cancer is concerned.
I have some photos of myself with hair. I had them taken, so that I can go into the hairdresser with my wig (delivery next week) and have it trimmed into a reasonable resemblance of my "old" look. When my head is shaved (probably the week after next), I hope to be able to be brave enough to have photos taken and to post them, too. But no promises.
Well, I have probably written a depressing blog that most will not want to read. But it IS my blog, and for me it is a public journal. My life goes on, but I am no so sure that I want it to. Too tough... I will break soon.
I start chemo next Tuesday, 3 sessions, 21 days apart. Then 21 days after the 3rd session, 5 weeks of radiation, every weekday, weekends off. (cause to celebrate, yes?). Then resume chemo, 3 more sessions. That effectively screws me for the next 6 + months.
Bald and freezing in this frostbitten part of the country. Lowered white cell count (hello, infections), lowered red cell count (hello, fatigue and anemia), disappearance of all body hair. As if the very treatments are not enough, I will spare you (for now) the other probable side effects.
Had to order a wig and pay extra for the expedited shipping. Otherwise, it will not be here soon enough to insulate my bald head. And a cap to just wear around the house and to sleep in. Homes are pretty cool during the winters up here, and if I am too cold, I awaken and shiver. Already bought myself an electric throw (smaller than an electric blanket - just need enough to cover ME). And I regularly sleep with sox on (don't like to be cold AT ALL).
I am angry -- so SO angry. I wish God would find another Job. This particular one wants so badly to resign from the position that she did NOT sign up for. I thought I cried a lot when my husband died. That is nothing, compared to the tears I am shedding so frequently now.
I know that I will be the subject of gossip, although people who DO talk about these kinds of things, just do not see it that way. I have a few CLOSE friends that I do and will talk with. But those phone calls about "how are you doing?" just do not fly. If you can't be supportive and genuinely mean it, don't bother. Don't tell me what has worked for you (unless you have gone thru these treatments). A very nice acquaintance recently contacted me via e-mail. She went thru chemo for breast cancer several years ago and has already mentioned some good things to me.
The septic-system guy told her that someone undergoing chemo can "kill" a septic system. Huh. Poison for me, poison for someone's septic system when I visit 'em. If it was warm outside, I would volunteer to pee outside. But it isn't, so I won't.
Every time I brush my hair, or wash or comb it, or dig it out of the collar of my winter jacket, I remind myself that I won't be doing this much longer. And I am sad. Hair is so much of what a woman perceives herself to be. Those who remark that "it's only hair" (said by those who have NOT had this wonderful experience) - you can take a flying (fill in the blank). This is not comforting to tell anyone, and especially not to tell a woman. I will spend the next 6 + months feeling and looking absolutely crummy. Trying to eat when there is no appetite, trying to sleep when I am absolutely exhausted yet too miserable to nap, trying to keep warm when my body weight is still not that great, trying to avoid infections (yeah, no one ever coughs or sneezes in this wintry area), trying to get things done when the energy level is down.
My friend (who lives in Texas' Hill Country) told me that Robin Roberts (an ABC news person) merrily went about her "usual" life while dealing with breast cancer. And this friend told me that she discovered that Ms. Roberts was able to do this because she could afford a drug that costs $6,000 dollars and which really beefs up ones energy level. My friend was not that fortunate. Finally, towards the end of her treatment and with her blood counts very, VERY low, she had this drug and realized how nice it would have been, if she could have afforded it all along. There is no justice, no mercy, no equality, where cancer is concerned.
I have some photos of myself with hair. I had them taken, so that I can go into the hairdresser with my wig (delivery next week) and have it trimmed into a reasonable resemblance of my "old" look. When my head is shaved (probably the week after next), I hope to be able to be brave enough to have photos taken and to post them, too. But no promises.
Well, I have probably written a depressing blog that most will not want to read. But it IS my blog, and for me it is a public journal. My life goes on, but I am no so sure that I want it to. Too tough... I will break soon.
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