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'.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
A pleasant surprise!
Not too much to update. Had session #13 yesterday, so I am starting on the last HALF of the radiation treatments. I still do NOT like undressing in front of them. And I finally shared this tacky procedure with the doc (saw him following my Monday treatment). I mentioned that the alternative - using a dressing room - meant walking down a long couple of corridors in one of THOSE gowns - something that NO patient wants to do. So HE came up with an alternative - how about a folding screen in the actual treatment room where you could at least shuck off your pants and use a gown? There is plenty of room for a screen, since they already have a coatstand, chair and small table where you can place your belongings and garments.
Thanks, Doc! Hope this can help future radiation "victims" be a bit more comfortable when approaching these treatments.
At the conclusion of Tuesday's treatment, and while I was donning my jeans, one of the radiation techs walked in, carrying a vase. It had ten daffodils and some ferns in it, with a plum-full bunch of water. I had seen the posters around the facility, advertising the sale of these as a fund-raiser for the American Cancer Society. What I did NOT realize was that those who purchased them, could choose to have a bunch of the flowers donated to a cancer patient. So... and the nicest, preprinted card was included, which began, "Dear cancer survivor". And I had not even allowed myself to think in those terms, "survivor". It was the encouragement angle of it all that was so nice.
I had to pour out half of the water, in order to carry the vase to the car and put it in one of the cupholders. The buds were closed when I went to bed, and 8 of them had begun opening by this morning. The others are now opening, also (yes, I brought them into the shop with me - didn't want to miss the process!). I'll try to take a photo and post that with this installation of "Life with Grouchy".
The warmer temps and blue skies are VERY encouraging, contributing to my upbeat mood. My energy level continues to be "normal", and that makes me feel good. I had thought that I would be pretty lethargic, by this point in the treatment schedule. Happy to see that I am NOT.
I let some friends know about my (previous) latest post. One of these friends is a gal in Texas who went thru chemo for breast cancer about 4 years ago or so. She shared a photo of HERself, just as bald as I was. And NO - I will not violate her privacy by sharing that photo. But - since she is an attractive woman - I felt better when I saw that, at her baldest, she and I BOTH resembled scrawny, middle-aged men. Forgive me if you read this, sweetie! You are certainly a beautiful woman, but no one can tell you OR me that "it's only hair"! As they say, been there, done that, got the t-shirt.
That's all for now.
Thanks, Doc! Hope this can help future radiation "victims" be a bit more comfortable when approaching these treatments.
At the conclusion of Tuesday's treatment, and while I was donning my jeans, one of the radiation techs walked in, carrying a vase. It had ten daffodils and some ferns in it, with a plum-full bunch of water. I had seen the posters around the facility, advertising the sale of these as a fund-raiser for the American Cancer Society. What I did NOT realize was that those who purchased them, could choose to have a bunch of the flowers donated to a cancer patient. So... and the nicest, preprinted card was included, which began, "Dear cancer survivor". And I had not even allowed myself to think in those terms, "survivor". It was the encouragement angle of it all that was so nice.
I had to pour out half of the water, in order to carry the vase to the car and put it in one of the cupholders. The buds were closed when I went to bed, and 8 of them had begun opening by this morning. The others are now opening, also (yes, I brought them into the shop with me - didn't want to miss the process!). I'll try to take a photo and post that with this installation of "Life with Grouchy".
The warmer temps and blue skies are VERY encouraging, contributing to my upbeat mood. My energy level continues to be "normal", and that makes me feel good. I had thought that I would be pretty lethargic, by this point in the treatment schedule. Happy to see that I am NOT.
I let some friends know about my (previous) latest post. One of these friends is a gal in Texas who went thru chemo for breast cancer about 4 years ago or so. She shared a photo of HERself, just as bald as I was. And NO - I will not violate her privacy by sharing that photo. But - since she is an attractive woman - I felt better when I saw that, at her baldest, she and I BOTH resembled scrawny, middle-aged men. Forgive me if you read this, sweetie! You are certainly a beautiful woman, but no one can tell you OR me that "it's only hair"! As they say, been there, done that, got the t-shirt.
That's all for now.
Friday, March 9, 2012
A humbling meeting
Yesterday was a BAD day for me.
When I checked in at the radiation oncology dept, I thought I would just bide my time, as usual, until someone came and retrieved me, escorting me to one of the two radiation rooms. Well, someone DID come out, but that was to inform me that the radiation equipment was currently dismantled, as they addressed a faulty part that needed replacement. They had the replacement part on site, but still had to re-assemble the machine. And then they were proceeding with those who were already waiting. One person was in mid-treatment when the machine failed, so of course, that patient would finish as soon as possible. And then was another patient to go before me, and then me. My appt. was at 2 pm, and the best guess was that they MIGHT get to me around 3:30.
So, in my wisdom and spare time, I called my bank, since they had left me both a voice mail AND sent me a text, expressing concern that fraudulent transactions were being attempted with my debit card. Which, by the way, has ALWAYS remained in my possession. Not even Mr. L has authorization to use that card. I rarely, RARELY use it for on-line shopping, but it is my life's blood, in a manner of speaking, for almost every other transaction: restaurants, grocery shopping, pumping gas, etc. Well, they quizzed me about all kinds of transactions, only two of which I owned up to. Apparently the number was stolen, but from the refusals made when other attempts were made to use this card, the users/thieves had no other info from the card. Not the expiration date, nor my mailing address, nor the "plus three" numbers on the reverse side of the card. Thank God. Now came the bad news: based on my responses, they were cancelling my card! Arrrrggghhhh!!! However, I DID tell them that I was NOT at the mailing address that the bank has for me, that I am living (temporarily) elsewhere during the duration of my treatment. They conceded to put a "rush" on the replacement card, which means that it MAY arrive here by Monday. My own guess for ETA is Tuesday.
Thus, I am now wearing out my charge card (also issued by this same bank). When I do get the debit card replaced AND registered, I'll quit using the charge card and pay it off from my bank account. Too much crap to deal with in one day.
And yet, and yet... after I returned from the walkway area where I had this not-so-fun telephone conversation, I met a woman who was also waiting for her radiation appt. at this same clinic. We started talking - how long have you been having treatments, what kind of cancer, etc. And it put my situation in perspective immediately. And I am humbled by what she and her husband are dealing with.
She was recently diagnosed with a brain tumor. I didn't ask questions about what the exact type of tumor (or tumors) she has. She was diagnosed at Mayo Clinic, down in Rochester, MN, where a lot of big-time diagnosis of cancer and other diseases is done, and it is kind of a mecca for that sort of thing. She said they were there for about a week, while all kinds of tests were done. And the docs (apparently two gave her the results) basically said she had 3 - 6 months. Actually, one of the docs was pretty firm on this diagnosis, and more or less told her that nothing could be done for her. But the other doc - obviously someone more compassionate and humane - said that the decision to pursue treatment options was hers. She is in her early 50's and has 3 small grandchildren. Her eyes welled up with tears when she mentioned these kids. So she has decided to try whatever they can do for her. She is on oral chemo doses daily, and this past week was her first round of radiation treatments to her brain.
In looking for info on brain tumors, this fact appeared: there are over 120 types of brain tumors. And thus, the diversity of these tumors probably contributes to the difficulty in treating them.
In the therapy room, I have seen head/face masks, and I asked if she was fitted with one to use during her treatment. They are meant to immobilize the head during this sort of radiation. She said that, yes, she wore one during her treatments.
During the course of our conversation, her husband came in. Seems like a very nice guy, and naturally, the stress and strain from dealing with this situation, has got to weigh heavily on him, also. Damn cancer all to hell... disrupting and taking way too many lives.
Sometimes I wonder if I will be around for my next high school reunion, which will be our 50-year reunion. Or will I be a statistic, just a photo on the "in memoriam" table? But trust me, folks, I do NOT dwell on dying. I sleep just fine at night, and these morbid thoughts are usually NOT part of my average day at all. To use a trite phrase, it is what it is. I can't do anything to change the situation, but I can pursue treatments available to me. And I am thankful that I have health insurance to pay (most of) the bills. Good thing, too - just received a statement from the organization providing the actual, hands-on treatments: the cost of the CT scans was just about $10,000! Wow. The charges have been submitted to my insurer, so I do not yet know what portion I am expected to pay. But YIKES!
If any of my classmates read this, and if I am NOT at that reunion, I want you to put at least ONE photo of me with my poor ol' bald head, on that table. I want someone to know what I looked like, during these treatments. And another photo of me smiling... because life is too somber to have to face, if laughter isn't a part of it.
Hair update - the fuzz is increasing on my head and a few hairs have re-appeared in my nose (I know - TMI, right?). But my eyebrows, even six weeks after my 3rd chemo, are still bailin' on me. Damn. The hair on my arms? Still there. The body is a complex organization, and apparently not all hair is created equal. I realize that the re-growth on my head and other parts will probably head for the hills, once I resume chemo. But I am curious to see how much more hair will grow, in the interim.
Because I have railed and ranted about God dumping more stuff on me than is fair, I think that some of you believe that I do NOT believe. Au contraire - how can you go through this and be an atheist? Anyway, I have not ever asked for prayers for myself (although a friend of mine said he encouraged his family to pray NOT for him, but for his doctors!). But if you would drop a plea to the Big Guy for this lady that I just met, as well as for her family, I would be grateful.
As ever, Old Grouchy herself, signing off.
When I checked in at the radiation oncology dept, I thought I would just bide my time, as usual, until someone came and retrieved me, escorting me to one of the two radiation rooms. Well, someone DID come out, but that was to inform me that the radiation equipment was currently dismantled, as they addressed a faulty part that needed replacement. They had the replacement part on site, but still had to re-assemble the machine. And then they were proceeding with those who were already waiting. One person was in mid-treatment when the machine failed, so of course, that patient would finish as soon as possible. And then was another patient to go before me, and then me. My appt. was at 2 pm, and the best guess was that they MIGHT get to me around 3:30.
So, in my wisdom and spare time, I called my bank, since they had left me both a voice mail AND sent me a text, expressing concern that fraudulent transactions were being attempted with my debit card. Which, by the way, has ALWAYS remained in my possession. Not even Mr. L has authorization to use that card. I rarely, RARELY use it for on-line shopping, but it is my life's blood, in a manner of speaking, for almost every other transaction: restaurants, grocery shopping, pumping gas, etc. Well, they quizzed me about all kinds of transactions, only two of which I owned up to. Apparently the number was stolen, but from the refusals made when other attempts were made to use this card, the users/thieves had no other info from the card. Not the expiration date, nor my mailing address, nor the "plus three" numbers on the reverse side of the card. Thank God. Now came the bad news: based on my responses, they were cancelling my card! Arrrrggghhhh!!! However, I DID tell them that I was NOT at the mailing address that the bank has for me, that I am living (temporarily) elsewhere during the duration of my treatment. They conceded to put a "rush" on the replacement card, which means that it MAY arrive here by Monday. My own guess for ETA is Tuesday.
Thus, I am now wearing out my charge card (also issued by this same bank). When I do get the debit card replaced AND registered, I'll quit using the charge card and pay it off from my bank account. Too much crap to deal with in one day.
And yet, and yet... after I returned from the walkway area where I had this not-so-fun telephone conversation, I met a woman who was also waiting for her radiation appt. at this same clinic. We started talking - how long have you been having treatments, what kind of cancer, etc. And it put my situation in perspective immediately. And I am humbled by what she and her husband are dealing with.
She was recently diagnosed with a brain tumor. I didn't ask questions about what the exact type of tumor (or tumors) she has. She was diagnosed at Mayo Clinic, down in Rochester, MN, where a lot of big-time diagnosis of cancer and other diseases is done, and it is kind of a mecca for that sort of thing. She said they were there for about a week, while all kinds of tests were done. And the docs (apparently two gave her the results) basically said she had 3 - 6 months. Actually, one of the docs was pretty firm on this diagnosis, and more or less told her that nothing could be done for her. But the other doc - obviously someone more compassionate and humane - said that the decision to pursue treatment options was hers. She is in her early 50's and has 3 small grandchildren. Her eyes welled up with tears when she mentioned these kids. So she has decided to try whatever they can do for her. She is on oral chemo doses daily, and this past week was her first round of radiation treatments to her brain.
In looking for info on brain tumors, this fact appeared: there are over 120 types of brain tumors. And thus, the diversity of these tumors probably contributes to the difficulty in treating them.
In the therapy room, I have seen head/face masks, and I asked if she was fitted with one to use during her treatment. They are meant to immobilize the head during this sort of radiation. She said that, yes, she wore one during her treatments.
During the course of our conversation, her husband came in. Seems like a very nice guy, and naturally, the stress and strain from dealing with this situation, has got to weigh heavily on him, also. Damn cancer all to hell... disrupting and taking way too many lives.
Sometimes I wonder if I will be around for my next high school reunion, which will be our 50-year reunion. Or will I be a statistic, just a photo on the "in memoriam" table? But trust me, folks, I do NOT dwell on dying. I sleep just fine at night, and these morbid thoughts are usually NOT part of my average day at all. To use a trite phrase, it is what it is. I can't do anything to change the situation, but I can pursue treatments available to me. And I am thankful that I have health insurance to pay (most of) the bills. Good thing, too - just received a statement from the organization providing the actual, hands-on treatments: the cost of the CT scans was just about $10,000! Wow. The charges have been submitted to my insurer, so I do not yet know what portion I am expected to pay. But YIKES!
If any of my classmates read this, and if I am NOT at that reunion, I want you to put at least ONE photo of me with my poor ol' bald head, on that table. I want someone to know what I looked like, during these treatments. And another photo of me smiling... because life is too somber to have to face, if laughter isn't a part of it.
Hair update - the fuzz is increasing on my head and a few hairs have re-appeared in my nose (I know - TMI, right?). But my eyebrows, even six weeks after my 3rd chemo, are still bailin' on me. Damn. The hair on my arms? Still there. The body is a complex organization, and apparently not all hair is created equal. I realize that the re-growth on my head and other parts will probably head for the hills, once I resume chemo. But I am curious to see how much more hair will grow, in the interim.
Because I have railed and ranted about God dumping more stuff on me than is fair, I think that some of you believe that I do NOT believe. Au contraire - how can you go through this and be an atheist? Anyway, I have not ever asked for prayers for myself (although a friend of mine said he encouraged his family to pray NOT for him, but for his doctors!). But if you would drop a plea to the Big Guy for this lady that I just met, as well as for her family, I would be grateful.
As ever, Old Grouchy herself, signing off.
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.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Going forward
Just a few minutes here to update.
Had chemo # 2 on the 4th (Wed.) and the actual process went much, much better. The staff had the info on the problems from my 1st session and took care to introduce the problem-causing drug at a slow rate, initially, then sped it up gradually.
The biggest problem encountered at this second session was actually BEFORE this session. It seems that, since I have now entered the chemo process, I now need to be cleared (okayed) to go forward with the chemo. A nurse-practitioner does this. No problem with any of that. My "clearing" appt was scheduled for 9:30, which was about the time that I was ushered into a room and my "vitals" were done. And then we sat, and waited, and WAITED, and WAITED. I finally went out of the room, looking for someone to tell that we were STILL waiting - and furthermore, the chemo session was scheduled for 11 am, which was fast approaching. Finally, the nurse-practitioner graced us with her presence. She asked some very non-essential questions and I mentioned my chemo appt. And SHE informed ME that SHE had to "clear" me for this scheduled chemo. I disliked her STRONGLY. That's as nasty as I will get, in print. L and I both agreed that she had that "I am in charge" attitude. A wonderful way to endear her to patients - and guess what? We have to deal with her for each and every chemo appt from now on.
Oh, and the reason that she showed up late? She went to the WRONG patient's room, so someone else was in and out quickly, while I sat and sat, becoming later and later. "I'm in charge" never admitted that to us, btw. Someone else on the staff coughed up that info.
Hair (on my head) is still falling out. Fewer and fewer strands. Sickening. The hair on my legs? Still growing. Still have hair on my arms, as well as eyebrows and eyelashes. Pubic hair, still leaving. And my "privates", without the protective buffering, are now subject to rubbing and chafing against underwear and jeans. No one ever mentions THIS "delicate" subject. So, folks, I am telling this fact NOW. I consider this blog and its current subject, a public service.
Have been enjoying the record-breaking temps (in the 40's), but that will be over in another day or two. So then I have a choice: an appearance-saving wig (NOT warm) or an ugly hat with no hair under it, and said hat will have to worn ALL the time when I am out in public. Yes, it is ONLY hair...
Okay, trying to be upbeat - and truly, I am feeling pretty good, as far as energy and my appetite is sorta ok.
Well, gotta run. Housecleaning calls (yuck) and I need to pop in the shower before I head into town for a blood test. All the fun you can squeeze into one morning!
Ta-ta.
Had chemo # 2 on the 4th (Wed.) and the actual process went much, much better. The staff had the info on the problems from my 1st session and took care to introduce the problem-causing drug at a slow rate, initially, then sped it up gradually.
The biggest problem encountered at this second session was actually BEFORE this session. It seems that, since I have now entered the chemo process, I now need to be cleared (okayed) to go forward with the chemo. A nurse-practitioner does this. No problem with any of that. My "clearing" appt was scheduled for 9:30, which was about the time that I was ushered into a room and my "vitals" were done. And then we sat, and waited, and WAITED, and WAITED. I finally went out of the room, looking for someone to tell that we were STILL waiting - and furthermore, the chemo session was scheduled for 11 am, which was fast approaching. Finally, the nurse-practitioner graced us with her presence. She asked some very non-essential questions and I mentioned my chemo appt. And SHE informed ME that SHE had to "clear" me for this scheduled chemo. I disliked her STRONGLY. That's as nasty as I will get, in print. L and I both agreed that she had that "I am in charge" attitude. A wonderful way to endear her to patients - and guess what? We have to deal with her for each and every chemo appt from now on.
Oh, and the reason that she showed up late? She went to the WRONG patient's room, so someone else was in and out quickly, while I sat and sat, becoming later and later. "I'm in charge" never admitted that to us, btw. Someone else on the staff coughed up that info.
Hair (on my head) is still falling out. Fewer and fewer strands. Sickening. The hair on my legs? Still growing. Still have hair on my arms, as well as eyebrows and eyelashes. Pubic hair, still leaving. And my "privates", without the protective buffering, are now subject to rubbing and chafing against underwear and jeans. No one ever mentions THIS "delicate" subject. So, folks, I am telling this fact NOW. I consider this blog and its current subject, a public service.
Have been enjoying the record-breaking temps (in the 40's), but that will be over in another day or two. So then I have a choice: an appearance-saving wig (NOT warm) or an ugly hat with no hair under it, and said hat will have to worn ALL the time when I am out in public. Yes, it is ONLY hair...
Okay, trying to be upbeat - and truly, I am feeling pretty good, as far as energy and my appetite is sorta ok.
Well, gotta run. Housecleaning calls (yuck) and I need to pop in the shower before I head into town for a blood test. All the fun you can squeeze into one morning!
Ta-ta.
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