Holidays - Second Time Around

Just like that - Thanksgiving is just a memory and we're quickly moving toward Christmas.

I can't believe that this is now my second holiday season colored by cancer. Thanksgiving week-end was great. Sue and Ron (my sister and brother-in-law from Colorado) were here and we just had a great time. But there were adjustments that I had to make in order to fully enjoy the time, and, in case someone just newly diagnosed, is reading this, I'm going to share some thoughts on the holidays.

Ken and I did host Thanksgiving dinner. It was something I really wanted to do. I always have this mindset that if I just act as though everything is normal, it will be. But try as I might, it isn't. So, yes, we hosted dinner, but it was a joint effort between 5 families. We all cooked, we all helped get it on the table, and we all cleaned up. In spite of that, I was still very tired by the end of the day, but very satisfied and happy. So, moving forward to my second Christmas, here are some of my survival thoughts.

1).  Lower your perception of the perfect holiday. Does it really have to include floors you can eat off of, fresh holiday decor in every room and plates piled high with every type of fancy baked good imaginable? Or is it just as festive and meaningful to put up one Christmas tree (or maybe two), a few candles and a plate with just a few cookies, selected from the "family holiday favorites" list? And, not only that...

2). Since even a scaled down version of the typical holiday preparations can take a lot out of you, take family and friends up on their inevitable invitations to help. Those who love to bake would be happy to share a few cookies with you. Kids and grandkids who love to decorate are bound to be happy to donate a few extra hours to help you out. And, no one will notice a few misplaced dust balls. It is a fact of life that chemo and other medications leave you extremely fatigued and out of energy. Use the energy you have to enjoy the time together rather than using it all up on the preparations.

3).  Shop online. Going to the mall is tough. It's cold. It's crowded. And, it takes considerably more energy than shopping online. This is not a cop out. This is survival. Be glad that it is now an option...a compromise to having someone else do your holiday shopping for you.

4).  By taking my own advice I plan to focus on what the holidays are really all about. It's not about those things that you do not, for the second year in a row, have the energy to do. It is about celebrating the fact that a year ago, newly diagnosed, there was the fear that it might be the last holiday season I would spend with those I love. Now, a year later, I'm still here and feeling so good about that. I'm confident, now, that I will get through this. Next year I will have more energy to do the things I may not be up to now. And, for that, I am so thankful. It's worth this LONG period of treatment, weakness, side effects and fatigue to eradicate this disease from my body. For now, I will just curl up on the couch and enjoy the company of family and friends. I will focus on the real meaning of the holidays. And I will thank God for bringing me through this.

Our kids and grandkids will all be here for Christmas this year and I can't wait. Ken and I will probably do some decorating this week. What a blessing that I have him to help. And with the decorations, holiday correspondence, etc. the excitement will start to build.

I hope you're all looking forward to the holidays as much as I am.

Later.

Thanksgiving

I read a quote today that said

If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, "thank you," that would suffice.

I couldn't let Thanksgiving pass without thanking all of you who so religiously follow my ramblings on this blog. It has been a long year. So much has happened and I have come so far. I truly thank all of you for being there for me.

And, I wanted to let you all know that Dr. D. called today while I was at work and told Ken that my sonogram was clear. What more could we possibly ask for on this Thanksgiving Eve?

Thank you. Thank you! And, Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

Later.

The Wait

Well, no news is good news...or so they say.

Guess we'll find out.

Later.

The Ultrasound

Well...one more thing behind me.

Yesterday afternoon was my scheduled ultrasound at Mercy. It was unlike many of the other diagnostic procedures they've done in that I could watch the screen while they were doing it. That is both good and bad because I had no idea what I was looking at. They, of course, won't tell you anything, so I was just lying there thinking what's that...what are those white spots...what's with the flashes of red and blue...what is this...what is that?

Then, finally she said she was done and disppeared. She reappeared in just a bit with another lady who said she was just going to take a peak. NOW, I'm really thinking what is up? Could be that she saw something that she thought someone else should take a look at, or, it could be that she is new and inexperienced and wasn't getting exactly the views that they needed. I don't know. That is why I couldn't mentally process it last night and didn't write.

But, there is no point in wasting mental energy on something you know nothing about so, for now, I'm just putting it out of my mind and waiting for the results. I've gotten pretty adept at that and we'll know soon enough. Until then, I have Thanksgiving to prepare for.

Later.

The Dentist

It's been hanging over my head for a long time...

I was past due for a dental checkup last October when I was unexpectedly diagnosed with Breast Cancer...a diagnosis which turned my world upside down. That became the focus of everything at that point and thoughts of the dentist were buried beneath other more pressing matters.

When I found out I would be going into an 18 month treatment schedule after surgery, I was told that getting my teeth cleaned during this period was not an option. There was too great a chance of  infection with my low blood counts. So, now a year has passed, putting me WAAAYY behind my dental schedule. Coupled with that is the fact that chemotherapy is extremely hard on your teeth. The chance of developing cavities is greatly increased, largely because of the fact that chemo dries out your mouth (which I can attest to).

So, now that I am on a drug which isn't quite so hard on my white blood counts, I have been thinking about sucking it up and making an appointment. Yesterday, I finally talked myself into it and made the call. I couldn't believe it when she said they could get me in yesterday afternoon. No time to even psych myself up for it. But, I went ahead and took the appointment.

The hygienist told me that they would take x-rays and have the dentist check my teeth very carefully because of the liklihood of damage. I hate having my teeth cleaned...they are super sensitive and having them poke around in there just sets me off. But, I got through it with only minor discomfort.

Then, the dentist came in and very carefully checked every tooth. She did an oral cancer exam and found no signs. YAY! And, the good new, she said, is that you unbelievably, after all you have been through, have no cavities. What? I am blessed!! I left there knowing I did not have a list of work to be done and I do not have to return for several months. Praise the Lord!

Now, if my sonogram on Friday can just go that well...

Later.

Omaha

Sunday night and I am SO tired. It was worth it though.

We needed to take our Acura in to the dealer for some warranty work so that meant a trip to Omaha Saturday. We decided to make it a weekend and take Michelle and Keisha with us. Shopping, shopping. :)  What a shock to find SNOW in Omaha yesterday. But it didn't deter us. We shopped ALL DAY yesterday and for several hours this afternoon. We spent quite a bit of time looking for possible dresses for Kelli and Brett's wedding. What a good time we had just looking, looking, looking and now and then trying something on. We hit our favorite bargain shopping spots as well...TJ Maxx and Marshalls. So, I am tired, yes, but what a great time we had. I treasure family times like this.

When we got home I had a letter from the Cancer Center. They didn't have my next appointment scheduled yet when I left last Thursday, so they mailed the information. Looks like they have me scheduled for an abdominal ultrasound at Mercy on Friday. I'm apprehensive about that but, for now at least, refuse to consider it to be anything more than another blip on the radar screen.

The good news is, they scheduled my next treatment for a Friday. I really appreciate the Friday treatments. It is much easier for me. I'm not sure how I ended up getting bumped back to Friday again but I'm so glad.

So, week-end is over...bring on a new week and whatever it has in store. Make it a good one!

Later.

One More Down

I was afraid this would happen...

4 more pounds down and Dr. D. is again scheduling diagnostic procedures to try to figure it out. When will this ever end?

Made it through the treatment with no real issues except that it just knocks me out. Just woke up, in fact. They have now decreased the dosage due to the fact that I have lost so much weight. They eliminated the steroids today as well. That was a good thing. AND, I got one of the private rooms today. No chemo circle. Celebrate the small stuff!

Later.

The Potato

I pulled a potato out of the bag the other day and was blown away by what I saw. It was a perfect heart shaped potato. (see photo) I just had to smile. What an anomaly. I couldn't bring myself to cut it, so I just set it on the counter and left it there.

Yesterday, after work, Marilyn stopped over for coffee. Knowing that I am scheduled for chemo on Thursday and knowing that Tuesdays and Thursdays are Ken's long days at school, she offered to go to the Cancer Center with me. I had been planning on just driving myself this time, but given the fact that I had a strangely difficult time with my last treatment, I was happy to accept her offer. I hate to have anyone give up the better part of their day to sit there. Ken normally does it and Marilyn has done it before as well. But, it really does help to have someone with you.

After she left, I happened to glance at that potato and it occurred to me that since the heart is a universal symbol of love and caring, this potato was sent as a reminder to me that no matter what challenges I, or any of us, face - whether they are cancer or chemo related or any other of life's challenges that may come our way - they can be dealt with and overcome by leaning on the love of friends, the love of family and the love of God. This love can take many forms - sitting with someone at the Cancer Center or wherever, posting a blog comment, holding someone up in prayer, giving a hug or whatever. Love is all around us - it's offered up for the taking.

"Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things...so faith, hope, love abide, these three, but the greatest of these is love."  (from 1 Corinthians 13)

So...chemo tomorrow. A bit apprehensive. Maybe I should take the potato with me.

Later.

Nails, etc.

Before I even start, let me say that I know these things pale in comparison to the fact that I am still alive. I recognize that, I am very aware of that and I celebrate that.

That doesn't change the fact that chemo causes radical changes to your body and your lifestyle and dealing with, adjusting to and accepting these things is not always easy. Today is one of those challenging days.

Several of the chemo drugs I have received can severely damage your nails. Dr. D. told me some time ago to make sure I kept my nails cut short because the chemo does so much damage to your nails that if you happen to catch them on something you can pull your nail off. I have been diligent about that and, so far, still have all of my nails. However, lately, my fingernails have started splitting straight down the middle and then catching on everything. As soon as I notice it, I cut the split part off but I can't seem to keep up with it. I just cut off a couple yesterday -- then noticed this morning that 3 more are split. They're already so short I don't know what else to do. I also have one toenail that is only attached by about 1/4 inch. If anyone has any great ideas, I'm open to them.

Also -- my hair just gets curlier by the day. I've given up trying to slick it down. It won't do that even fresh out of the shower anymore. Someone told me today that I look artsy craftsy - like I belong on sabbatical in Boulder with a backpack slung over my shoulder. Hmmm - guess that would be better than being hooked up to an infusion pump at the Cancer Center receiving more drugs which create more side effects.

The other thing I continue to struggle with is fatigue. Both the Herceptin and the Femara which I'm on right now cause fatigue and that is the biggest stumbling block in my attempt to resume a normal life. It seems to have a cumulative effect and there are days when it is literally a challenge to just get out of bed.

In the end, this too shall pass. I know that. In the meantime, I'll just keep struggling on days like this and do my best to stay focussed. I'm not complaining -- I'm just saying...

Later.

Stay Focussed

Feeling a little down this afternoon. I think it may be the realization that this is my treatment week again - already.

I really long for the day when this is behind me. It is such an intrusion into your life to have to schedule around constant doctor's appointments and especially chemo day. It is such a long day. But, I have to remind myself to stay focussed on the straight shot to the light. The good news is, after Thursday's appointment I should be able to go back to just seeing the doctor every three weeks. I have had so many extra appointments, exams, diagnostic procedures, etc. the last couple of months. But, I have ticked off all of them now, so it is Thursday and then not again until early December. Thursday they are supposed to do the thyroid workup but I expect that to be OK in which case I will not have to see the endocrinologist again until next October. I even have my appointment set. October 21, 2011. :)

So, upward and onward. That's the only way to get there.

Later.

Amelia

I'm still thinking about the movie Amelia. I really enjoyed it. I couldn't help but think about my parents as I was watching it. Amelia Earhart was the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic. She did this in 1932. My Mom was 9 years old then. Younger than Earhart, obviously, but still close enough to that generation to make me think of her when watching the people in the movie.

And, in thinking of her, it occurred to me...I really wish I could have the opportunity to talk to my Mom about her experience with breast cancer. Funny I've never thought about that before. But, there is so much I don't know. I should know these things, but I don't. How did she happen to be diagnosed? Was it just a routine exam like me, or did she suspect it and schedule an appointment?

Her cancer was diagnosed 22 years before mine, so things were different then. She had a mastectomy but I wonder if she had other options and just elected to do that. She was more fortunate than I in that after surgery she went on Tamoxifen for 5 years but did not have to undergo any other treatments. No chemo...no radiation. However, she was also beginning to exhibit symptoms of Alzheimers at the same time...the disease that would eventually claim her life.

I want to pour a couple of cups of coffee, sit down face to face and talk about how she processed it...how she dealt with it...and how she felt. I really, really feel like I want to do that.

Unfortunately, I can't.

Later

The Surgery

Tomorrow is November 2, 2010. It's election day and it's also exactly one year since the day I had my first cancer surgery.

We watched the movie, Amelia, the other night. It was good. We liked it, anyway. I admired Amelia Earhart's fortitude and tenacity in an era when that was far less acceptable for a woman than it is today. At one point, after her first transatlantic flight, she was writing in her journal. (Today she'd be blogging, right?) Her entry indicated that the two questions she was asked most often were     1). What did you wear? and 2). What next?

This (as so many things do) triggered memories of my experiences a year ago. I debated whether or not I even wanted to blog about this because it is still extremely difficult for me to process some of the experiences and even more difficult to talk about them. But there are just some things that should not have happened and without going into great detail, I just need to share them. 1).  What did you wear?

One year ago tomorrow, I checked into Same Day Surgery at Mercy. The nurse who checked me in led us to a cubicle where she tossed one of their beautiful hospital gowns onto a chair and said "Take everything off and put this on" - then threw back her head and let out a big belly laugh. I immediately felt the tears sting my eyes. I was an emotional wreck anyway, given the situation, and could have really used some empathy at that point. But she laughed...loudly. She walked out then and I said to Ken, "Why would she laugh? What was she thinking? What's funny about this?" That should never have happened. How inappropriate and insensitive.

I changed and almost immediately the pace picked up. It seemed like there were people everywhere in that little cubicle. Ken was sitting next to me. Pastor John was there. Someone was trying to start an IV and someone else wanted to know why the EKG electrodes hadn't been brought in. A tech from radiology showed up looking for the "needle loc." Can you believe it? The "needle loc." That was me. Apparently it's OK to substitute your procedure for your name. I thought about telling her my name was Cathy, not needle loc, but didn't. She was obviously annoyed as it was that I was not ready to go and didn't try to hide the annoyance. Doesn't seem like this should have happened either.

Once I got downstairs where they would do the needle loc and other pre-surgery preps, I really discovered how much fun this wasn't going to be. I can accept the fact that current medical procedures just are what they are. Someday, hopefully, they will make strides in how things are done, but, for now, these things just are painful to say the least. What should be changed immediately, however, is the insensitivity of some to what the breast cancer patient, or any patient, is feeling and going through. The radiologist had a student or intern or whatever with him and this young man was actually cracking jokes in the procedure room. Really? There's a time and a place for everything and that wasn't it. Prior to injecting the dye, the radiologist was explaining the procedure and placed my right arm at my side. His exact words were "I'm placing your arm here and I don't want you to move until I'm done. Don't try to help me - don't try to hit me." I closed my eyes at that point and didn't open them again until they finished what they needed to do and I was once again taking a gurney ride...this time to surgery. Ken was standing out in the hallway and all I could say to him was "This is some fun place."

All too soon the doors to the OR swung open and Ken could no longer walk beside me. I again struggled to fight back tears as we said goodbye.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My same day surgery ended up being a two night stay, at the end of which I went home to recover and wonder about my own answer to question #2, what's next?

Now, don't get me wrong. The surgeon, anesthesiology staff, nurses, techs, etc. from that point on were all great. They were caring, knowledgeable individuals who made the surgery and recovery experiences as comfortable as possible. The part that haunts me is all of the insensitivity I experienced prior to surgery. It should have never happened. I know that someone, somewhere, is having trouble sleeping tonight because she is just beginning her breast cancer journey and is facing surgery tomorrow morning. I just pray that she will not have to deal with thoughtless individuals who are so desensitized to the everyday situations that go on in the hospital that they forget they are dealing with people...people who are going through a very emotional, very scary, very life-changing experience and who could really use a smile, a pat on the hand or a kind word. You can bet that if I some day find myself face to face with someone who is in a position to do something about situations like this, I will relive this experience one more time and beg them to offer sensitivity training or something as a reminder to all who work with patients. We've come a long way baby, but there's still room for improvement. You know, I just read yesterday that in the 1880s, women having mastectomies weren't even given anesthesia. Yes, we've come a long way!

Later.