We've had more trick-or-treaters tonight than we've had in the last two years combined. One pair I swear was a teenage girl and her mother! Then there were the three teenage boys who were more interested in dad's cigarette butts in the sand bucket on the porch. You know, if you can drive yourself around the neighborhood, you're maybe too old for tricks and treats.
It's after 8 p.m., and we haven't had any for awhile, so I think I'll dip into the candy bowl.
Tomorrow is surgery day. I have to be at the hospital at 6:30 a.m., and of course tomorrow is supposed to be the coldest morning of the week. Hopefully, it'll just be an outpatient deal. I'll update if I can tomorrow, or maybe between Mom and my friend Bec an update will get posted.
So, to keep my mind off things, here's a Halloween memory:
In my small hometown when I was growing up, the Wicked Witch of the West would come to town every year. Her tent would be set up Halloween night on an empty corner lot downtown. It was decorated with "graves" with hands and feet sticking out and grave markers that said things like "Here lies Less More. No less, no more." Hundreds of kids would be lined up most of the evening to get their "poisoned" apple and some candy from the witch, who sat on her throne. Milling about the crowd would be "the good fairy," (one of the local bankers, who sported a thin, dark mustache and wore pink leotards and a tutu) would hand out shiny new pennies to ward off the witch's curses. There was a tent with hot cider and coffee for the grown-ups. It was always a fun evening.
The best part, though, would be before Halloween night. The witch would run around town, not on her broom, but in a Model-T with personalized "Witch" license plates, chased by a police car, lights and sirens running. She would always stop by the schools, and we could always hear the police siren and know she was coming. Then her screech -- "Happy HalloweeeeEEEEeeen!" would echo through the hallways. The teachers hated it, but we loved it. She would burst into each classroom and greet us in her best witchy cackle and ask if we were going trick or treating and tell us to be sure to stop by downtown for our treats. Then she'd be off, and a couple moments later, the cop would come by, cuffs in one hand, club in the other and ask "Which way did she go?" We'd all laugh and point about six different directions.
A few years later, my mom became business partners with the woman who played the witch, so I got some behind-the-scenes knowledge when I became too grown up for trick-or-treating.
My freshman year in high school, the witch made her rounds as usual. When we heard the police sirens, most of my friends rolled their eyes. "Doesn't she know we're too old for this?" They said.
The next year, we heard the sirens again. Again, my classmates rolled their eyes. But I had the scoop. "She's not coming here this year," I said. "What? Why?" a friend wanted to know. "Maydog (our nickname for the principal) asked her not to come in this year because it disrupts the school day," I replied. "What? He can't do that! Doesn't he know it's a tradition?" My friends were just outraged all day long. They seemed to have a very short memory.
Happy Halloween, everyone.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Getting closer
Less than two days and I go into surgery again, this time for the lumpectomy. I'm a bit nervous. It'll be only the second time I've ever had surgery, and this time I'll be completely under. Hopefully it'll all go well. I trust my surgeon, though. I just hope I don't have to say overnight. If they have to take any lymph nodes, then they'll have to put in a drain and keep me overnight and make sure I know how to handle it. Otherwise, I should just be able to go home.
My dad is here for a few days while I get through the surgery. He'll be moving up here later this month. It'll be good to have him closer, in case Mom and I need the help while my treatment continues, and nice to have him near since he's getting older too. I worry about him sometimes living so far away.
Nipper is doing well. He hasn't had any problems since we started him on the herbal supplement for his liver. He even reminds us when it's time for his "magic cheese."
Not much to say this time around. I'll have more to say probably after the surgery, whenever I feel up to it, so check back sometime late Tuesday.
My dad is here for a few days while I get through the surgery. He'll be moving up here later this month. It'll be good to have him closer, in case Mom and I need the help while my treatment continues, and nice to have him near since he's getting older too. I worry about him sometimes living so far away.
Nipper is doing well. He hasn't had any problems since we started him on the herbal supplement for his liver. He even reminds us when it's time for his "magic cheese."
Not much to say this time around. I'll have more to say probably after the surgery, whenever I feel up to it, so check back sometime late Tuesday.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Random weekend thoughts
Another weekend where I'd planned on getting some stuff done, and my body changes plans. When I woke up Saturday, I was tired. Actually, I first woke up around 4 a.m. and after letting Nipper out to do his thing, couldn't get back to sleep until around 6 a.m. Actually, I've been that way all week. Didn't make work much fun. Back to Saturday, all I really could do was lay around, watch some TV and nap. I did get one load of laundry in the wash, changed my bedsheets and walked the dog, so it wasn't a total waste of a day. Of course, I still have laundry to do. And all those other things I wanted to get done this weekend. I feel a bit better today, though, so maybe I can cross a couple of them off the list.
Some yahoo in a single-engine plane has been buzzing town for several minutes now. It's annoying.
I had a big zit IN my nose all last week that HURT. I finally got it popped Friday. Now the inside of my nose is all scabby-feeling. Add my gunky left eye with a slight infection in the lower eyelid, and I bet I looked great. Red, puffy eye and red, puffy nostril. I didn't feel like I looked great.
I won't go into details of the digestive problems I've been having this weekend. You're welcome.
Cancer ... it ain't glamorous.
Would someone tell that pilot there is no airport here? And to get out of the sky already?
Maybe I'll go clean my desk off and get my stuff and thoughts more organized for later.
Some yahoo in a single-engine plane has been buzzing town for several minutes now. It's annoying.
I had a big zit IN my nose all last week that HURT. I finally got it popped Friday. Now the inside of my nose is all scabby-feeling. Add my gunky left eye with a slight infection in the lower eyelid, and I bet I looked great. Red, puffy eye and red, puffy nostril. I didn't feel like I looked great.
I won't go into details of the digestive problems I've been having this weekend. You're welcome.
Cancer ... it ain't glamorous.
Would someone tell that pilot there is no airport here? And to get out of the sky already?
Maybe I'll go clean my desk off and get my stuff and thoughts more organized for later.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Monday, October 17, 2005
What they don't tell you
Warning: The following may contain too much information for the squeamish.
It ain't the big things that are always the most frustrating with cancer. Sometimes, it's the little side effects they just kind of gloss over that cause the most problems. Like, for instance, that the chemo drugs also kill the bacteria in your digestive system. I've had constipation and diarrhea in the same day. Heartburn is frequent. I wouldn't have to worry about the predicted cost increases if I could only figure a way to heat my home with my own gas. You get the idea.
Just had to get that out. As you were.
It ain't the big things that are always the most frustrating with cancer. Sometimes, it's the little side effects they just kind of gloss over that cause the most problems. Like, for instance, that the chemo drugs also kill the bacteria in your digestive system. I've had constipation and diarrhea in the same day. Heartburn is frequent. I wouldn't have to worry about the predicted cost increases if I could only figure a way to heat my home with my own gas. You get the idea.
Just had to get that out. As you were.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
I rant for life
I just watched tonight's "Dateline NBC" interview with Melissa Etheridge that I taped earlier tonight. I like her music, I respect her for standing for what she believes in, but I think she -- and the media hungry for a ratings bonanza -- are presenting a false picture to future cancer patients in talking about her experience.
On Dateline, Etheridge said she decided to forgo the prescription drugs for a "natural" method -- medical marijuana.
I understand that everyone's experience with cancer treatment is different. I've had it fairly easy, so maybe I'm not understanding what she's talking about. But if what you're using to ease the side effects of chemo leaves you "in another place," glassy eyed, in pain and unable to speak for several days, maybe what you're using ain't working, honey.
Go check out the discussion boards at breastcancer.org. There's a lot of people going through "dose dense" chemo like Etheridge did, but they don't sound like they're near death. In fact, there's a lot of criticism of her talking about this. There was also criticism of when she was Oprah's show a few weeks back (a whole 10-minute interview) that her description of her reaction to chemo -- "that it's taking you as close to death" as you can get -- would have scared a few people off from that treatment if they hadn't already started it. It would have for me.
Really, it should be the media outlets that get the criticism. Especially "Dateline," which is supposed to be a news program. How about presenting a balanced view, NBC? How about the story of an ordinary woman going through breast cancer treatment? Someone who isn't a millionaire rock star who can "erase" six months of her life for treatment without worrying about how to feed her family or if the lights will get shut off? How about breast cancer patients who don't find chemo puts them near death and go back to work two days (or less) after their treatment day? This is the kind of crap that makes me sorry I chose journalism as a career field.
But that's a whole other topic.
On Dateline, Etheridge said she decided to forgo the prescription drugs for a "natural" method -- medical marijuana.
I understand that everyone's experience with cancer treatment is different. I've had it fairly easy, so maybe I'm not understanding what she's talking about. But if what you're using to ease the side effects of chemo leaves you "in another place," glassy eyed, in pain and unable to speak for several days, maybe what you're using ain't working, honey.
Go check out the discussion boards at breastcancer.org. There's a lot of people going through "dose dense" chemo like Etheridge did, but they don't sound like they're near death. In fact, there's a lot of criticism of her talking about this. There was also criticism of when she was Oprah's show a few weeks back (a whole 10-minute interview) that her description of her reaction to chemo -- "that it's taking you as close to death" as you can get -- would have scared a few people off from that treatment if they hadn't already started it. It would have for me.
Really, it should be the media outlets that get the criticism. Especially "Dateline," which is supposed to be a news program. How about presenting a balanced view, NBC? How about the story of an ordinary woman going through breast cancer treatment? Someone who isn't a millionaire rock star who can "erase" six months of her life for treatment without worrying about how to feed her family or if the lights will get shut off? How about breast cancer patients who don't find chemo puts them near death and go back to work two days (or less) after their treatment day? This is the kind of crap that makes me sorry I chose journalism as a career field.
But that's a whole other topic.
Rest of the weekend
The Day of Caring was kind of fun. I'm not a fashion-type gal, but it was fun watching some of the models, who had done it before, and they obviously enjoyed it and had fun with it. Which is what the morning was all of about -- just feeling normal.
I thought the speaker, Susan Hess, was interesting. She's a therapist who uses music in her sessions, and using a native drum, flute and guitar she talked about how cancer affects your life. You go along through life to a certain rythm, and something like cancer suddenly changes that rythm. Treatment is another rythm. Grieving, and then getting on with life after cancer each have their own rythms. She advised finding your own music for each stage. It may sound all new-agey, but I believe in it. I think if I get an iPod and get it engraved, I'll have it say something like "JunO's Medicine Bag."
Today, I think maybe I did too much this morning, because now I'm just kind of dragging. I slept late, since some hay fever kept me up a couple of hours, but I got some laundry started and hung out and put up my new squirrel feeder and bird feeders, which I scrubbed clean Saturday afternoon. And all afternoon today, I've just been kind of laying around, in between getting a few loads of laundry done. It was kind of a beautiful fall day for not doing much anyway. We won't have too many of those left, I imagine.
I thought the speaker, Susan Hess, was interesting. She's a therapist who uses music in her sessions, and using a native drum, flute and guitar she talked about how cancer affects your life. You go along through life to a certain rythm, and something like cancer suddenly changes that rythm. Treatment is another rythm. Grieving, and then getting on with life after cancer each have their own rythms. She advised finding your own music for each stage. It may sound all new-agey, but I believe in it. I think if I get an iPod and get it engraved, I'll have it say something like "JunO's Medicine Bag."
Today, I think maybe I did too much this morning, because now I'm just kind of dragging. I slept late, since some hay fever kept me up a couple of hours, but I got some laundry started and hung out and put up my new squirrel feeder and bird feeders, which I scrubbed clean Saturday afternoon. And all afternoon today, I've just been kind of laying around, in between getting a few loads of laundry done. It was kind of a beautiful fall day for not doing much anyway. We won't have too many of those left, I imagine.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
It's set
Went to bed early last night and forgot about posting. Oh well.
Met with the surgeon Friday morning and had another sonogram. There is still a small tumor there, she thinks, but she believes it is dead tissue. She showed us the latest one compared to the first sonogram, and the tissue that's there is certainly not as large nor as black as the first one!
The lumpectomy is scheduled for the morning of Nov. 1. I have to be there bright and early at 6:30 a.m.! She won't know until she actually cuts me open if it'll be an outpatient surgery or if I'll have to stay overnight. If she has to take any lymph nodes from under my arm, then I'll stay overnight because they'll have to put a drain in and I'll have to learn to deal with that until my body figures out it's got to do some rerouting. If they don't have to take lymph nodes, then I can go home that day. Either way, I think I'll take the rest of the week off. I probably won't feel much like working anyway.
She'll also remove the lump and some of the surrounding breast tissue, then they'll X-ray that to make sure she got enough clear tissue surrounding the cancer. If not, back in she goes to remove some more. I'll be completely under the whole time, at least so it's not like I'll be laying around trying to make small talk.
I'm a little nervous, since this will be only the second surgery I've had in my life, and far more extensive than having the port put in. But it'll be worth it. Maybe I can be over this a lot faster.
My surgeon also said there might be radiation to follow, once I recover from the surgery. That would be once a day, five days a week for I think about seven weeks. Radiation is more localized treatment than chemo, so I guess that's good, but time to do some more research. I'm sure she and my oncologist will be visiting soon anyway and figure out what they think is best. Maybe more chemo, maybe not. We'll see.
Got to go shower and get dressed. Today is the Day of Caring here, a brunch and fashion show for women with cancer. I'm not that much into fashion, but it's a reason to get out of the house anyway!
Later
Met with the surgeon Friday morning and had another sonogram. There is still a small tumor there, she thinks, but she believes it is dead tissue. She showed us the latest one compared to the first sonogram, and the tissue that's there is certainly not as large nor as black as the first one!
The lumpectomy is scheduled for the morning of Nov. 1. I have to be there bright and early at 6:30 a.m.! She won't know until she actually cuts me open if it'll be an outpatient surgery or if I'll have to stay overnight. If she has to take any lymph nodes from under my arm, then I'll stay overnight because they'll have to put a drain in and I'll have to learn to deal with that until my body figures out it's got to do some rerouting. If they don't have to take lymph nodes, then I can go home that day. Either way, I think I'll take the rest of the week off. I probably won't feel much like working anyway.
She'll also remove the lump and some of the surrounding breast tissue, then they'll X-ray that to make sure she got enough clear tissue surrounding the cancer. If not, back in she goes to remove some more. I'll be completely under the whole time, at least so it's not like I'll be laying around trying to make small talk.
I'm a little nervous, since this will be only the second surgery I've had in my life, and far more extensive than having the port put in. But it'll be worth it. Maybe I can be over this a lot faster.
My surgeon also said there might be radiation to follow, once I recover from the surgery. That would be once a day, five days a week for I think about seven weeks. Radiation is more localized treatment than chemo, so I guess that's good, but time to do some more research. I'm sure she and my oncologist will be visiting soon anyway and figure out what they think is best. Maybe more chemo, maybe not. We'll see.
Got to go shower and get dressed. Today is the Day of Caring here, a brunch and fashion show for women with cancer. I'm not that much into fashion, but it's a reason to get out of the house anyway!
Later
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Two-small Thursday
It's the second full day after chemo, and possibly one of the worst in the cycle. It's hard to explain, but the best way I can put is it's like when you're wearing a shirt that's too small, how it feel across your back and under your arms, around your neck ... that's how my skin feels. Like I put on the wrong torso skin and it's just too small.
My whole body feels kind of tender, but the torso especially so. I don't want to be touched or touch anything, even my clothes to some extent. I can't sit or lie down comfortably, so I have to take something in order to sleep. It'll last a couple days and then I'll be on my way to feeling OK.
Today I also fee l a little more run down than I normally do at this point. Maybe it's because yesterday I actually felt pretty good, compared to past treatments. Instead of just laying around all day, I did manage to take Nipper for a short walk, clean up my closet and change the sheets on my bed. There was a lot of resting in between, though, and I was dead tired by 9:30 p.m. I managed to stay awake through the end of "CSI:New York." I don't know if I could do the same for "Without a Trace" tonight, though. It hasn't really captured my interest so far.
I visit with the surgeon tomorrow, so hopefully will have more good news!
My whole body feels kind of tender, but the torso especially so. I don't want to be touched or touch anything, even my clothes to some extent. I can't sit or lie down comfortably, so I have to take something in order to sleep. It'll last a couple days and then I'll be on my way to feeling OK.
Today I also fee l a little more run down than I normally do at this point. Maybe it's because yesterday I actually felt pretty good, compared to past treatments. Instead of just laying around all day, I did manage to take Nipper for a short walk, clean up my closet and change the sheets on my bed. There was a lot of resting in between, though, and I was dead tired by 9:30 p.m. I managed to stay awake through the end of "CSI:New York." I don't know if I could do the same for "Without a Trace" tonight, though. It hasn't really captured my interest so far.
I visit with the surgeon tomorrow, so hopefully will have more good news!
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Treatment Tuesday
So today was my fourth treatment -- and the last for awhile. I'll probably have a lumpectomy on Nov. 1, will see my oncologist sometime before Thanksgiving, but won't have to start back on chemo until after Christmas! Happy holidays, indeed.
Today, I was able to stay awake longer than I have the last couple of times. I came in later too, but I don't know if that had any effect. We got to the cancer center about 10 a.m., waiting a few minutes to see the nurse in the exam room where she checked my weight, blood pressure and temperature, and went over the drugs I'm taking and any other problems I might be having.
After a few more minutes wait, Dr. Fields burst into the room (she's got a LOT of energy) and we chatted a bit. She did the "open your mouth and say ahhh" bit, had me follow her finger with my eyes and how well I could press or pull my arms and legs against hers. Everything seemed to check out OK.
Then it was off to the treatment room, where first I had to give a sample for a pregnancy test. I know they have rules, but come on. I have cancer, feel blechy a lot, am bald and my mother lives with me. How much action do they think I'm getting? Anyway, rules are rules. They mix up the chemo drugs, and then it's time to start. They spray my port site with a freeze spray to numb it, then insert the needle and make sure it's got a good blood draw. First is a couple anti-nausea drugs, followed by three chemo drugs. The first and third ones are "pushed," or when the nurse uses a syringe to infuse it. The second one is through a drip IV. The whole process takes about three hours.
Since we went in later today, I got to have lunch brought to me. It really wasn't too bad -- baked chicken breast, baked potato, corn, a corn/rice/celery soup and I think it was carrot cake and iced tea.
We came home around 1:30 to 2 p.m. and I went right to bed. I didn't wake up until just after 5 p.m. Didn't do too much until dinner, Cream of Wheat and a piece of toast, and continued laying around to watch "Navy NCIS" and "Amazing Race." Had some hot chocolate, snuggled with Nipper a lot and that's about it. Probably going to bed soon, and I imagine I'll be home tomorrow. Then it's a visit with Dr. K on Friday. We'll see then how much smaller the tumor is and how that might effect the surgery and what she might recommend for future treatment.
See you tomorrow.
Today, I was able to stay awake longer than I have the last couple of times. I came in later too, but I don't know if that had any effect. We got to the cancer center about 10 a.m., waiting a few minutes to see the nurse in the exam room where she checked my weight, blood pressure and temperature, and went over the drugs I'm taking and any other problems I might be having.
After a few more minutes wait, Dr. Fields burst into the room (she's got a LOT of energy) and we chatted a bit. She did the "open your mouth and say ahhh" bit, had me follow her finger with my eyes and how well I could press or pull my arms and legs against hers. Everything seemed to check out OK.
Then it was off to the treatment room, where first I had to give a sample for a pregnancy test. I know they have rules, but come on. I have cancer, feel blechy a lot, am bald and my mother lives with me. How much action do they think I'm getting? Anyway, rules are rules. They mix up the chemo drugs, and then it's time to start. They spray my port site with a freeze spray to numb it, then insert the needle and make sure it's got a good blood draw. First is a couple anti-nausea drugs, followed by three chemo drugs. The first and third ones are "pushed," or when the nurse uses a syringe to infuse it. The second one is through a drip IV. The whole process takes about three hours.
Since we went in later today, I got to have lunch brought to me. It really wasn't too bad -- baked chicken breast, baked potato, corn, a corn/rice/celery soup and I think it was carrot cake and iced tea.
We came home around 1:30 to 2 p.m. and I went right to bed. I didn't wake up until just after 5 p.m. Didn't do too much until dinner, Cream of Wheat and a piece of toast, and continued laying around to watch "Navy NCIS" and "Amazing Race." Had some hot chocolate, snuggled with Nipper a lot and that's about it. Probably going to bed soon, and I imagine I'll be home tomorrow. Then it's a visit with Dr. K on Friday. We'll see then how much smaller the tumor is and how that might effect the surgery and what she might recommend for future treatment.
See you tomorrow.
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Sunday
The Sundays before my treatment kind of suck. It's worked out where I work the desk at the paper the Saturday before my treatments. That's good on one hand, because I can use my comp day for my treatment instead of a sick day. But on the other hand, I don't get a real weekend. And working all afternoon and all night (about 1 p.m. to midnight) Saturday putting together the front section of the Sunday paper is really more taxing than it probably sounds. Anymore those Sundays are just a waste, because I'm tired -- more mentally than anything -- and don't get around to doing much. A second day off always helped me get things done, whether it was laundry or running errands in town.
I didn't get anything done today other than walking the dog. I need to do laundry and clean up my closet and I should sift through all the crap piled up on my desk one of these days. I've been taking the Wednesday after my treatment off, but I'm still really too tired to do anything then. So I guess for another week, not much will get done.
We had our breast cancer month package in today's paper, and I think it turned out pretty good. It was nice to be able to have some time to work on it, instead of just having Saturday afternoon, which is how it seems most of my Saturdays turn out. I've already gotten a couple compliments on my column, which I put off writing until Friday night. It wasn't that it was that hard to write, it was just the thought of getting to it. I don't necessarily think it's the best thing I've ever written, but I think it got my thoughts across.
Since you have to be a subscriber to read my paper's online content, here's my part of the package today:
Life can change dramatically in an instant.
For me, that instant came on Mother's Day, when, while getting dressed, I felt a lump in my left breast.
I think on some level, I knew instantly. It was cancer. But I’m only 36. Cancer was something old people get.
Or so I thought.
I put off visiting the doctor for several weeks. I did some research on the Internet. There are many other things besides cancer that can cause lumps in the breast of a woman under 40.
Despite that information, I could not keep the thought out of my head — I have cancer.
I learned on July 8 my instinct was right. After a mammogram and sonogram, a biopsy was ordered. I reported that day to Dr. Christine Kelly’s office.
"I think you’re about to become a Kelly girl," she said moments after entering the exam room. It took awhile for the meaning of that to sink in.
Only two things shocked me as much as getting the news I had breast cancer: that I was the fifth woman under the age of 40 Dr. Kelly had diagnosed at that point in the year, and that practically everyone I told about my cancer said that someone close to them had also had breast cancer.
Even though it seemed my life had changed quickly, the next few weeks seemed to move much too slowly. I had cancer, shouldn't we be moving quickly to treat it? But there needed to be tests done to make sure it hadn't spread --— x-ray, CT scan, bone scan, MRI. All came back OK. It was a great relief. But I was eager to start, to get rid of this thing.
That day came Aug. 9. I was scared. I'’ve always been healthy and hardly even gone to a doctor in my adult life. Now all of a sudden I'’d had tests and surgery to implant a type of catheter in my chest and would soon have drugs more caustic than battery acid infused into my body every three weeks.
I am tired for days after treatment and have had trouble with my white blood cell count. Consequently, at work, I have to be separated from my coworkers so I'm not at as much risk for catching a communicable disease, like a cold, that could be devastating to my body. I miss the business of the newsroom, and my coworkers have to make a special effort just to say "hi." It stinks, but right now it is what keeps me at work as much as possible.
I forget things easily. I don'’t know how many times I've walked into the newsroom or into my kitchen and wondered why. I had an overdraft on my checking account for the first time in five years because I forgot to enter a couple purchases in my checkbook record. If if weren't for my mother helping to keep track of my finances, I would not be paying some of my medical bills in a timely fashion. It's very disconcerting when I read through my journal and have no memory of some of the things I describe.
But several things have set my mind at ease. My parents and brother, who have taken all quite well. It seems we've grown closer and been able to talk more openly. My friends and coworkers, who have all offered support and laughs when I need it. My dog, who is always there for me and doesn't care if I don't have any hair. And especially the medical team, from the staffs at Dr. Katrina Hess' and Dr. Kelly's offices and the staff at Hays Medical Center’s Dreiling/Schmidt Cancer Center. They have all be straightforward about what I would be dealing with, yet comforting at the same time. I've also recently found a group of remarkable women, Sisters of Survival, as another means of support. They know what I am going through and are proof cancer can be a new beginning to life, rather than an end.
Tuesday will be my fourth round of chemotherapy. After that, I'm scheduled for a lumpectomy around the first of November, and then three more months of chemo. The treatment has gone well, for which I am thankful. I haven'’t had the nausea and mouth sores and other side effects that can make treatment awful for some, and at my last sonogram the tumor was almost completely gone. I am confident I will beat this thing. It will never far from my mind though, for the rest of my life. Living with and after cancer is a whole new reality. But I won'’t let it get me.
I didn't get anything done today other than walking the dog. I need to do laundry and clean up my closet and I should sift through all the crap piled up on my desk one of these days. I've been taking the Wednesday after my treatment off, but I'm still really too tired to do anything then. So I guess for another week, not much will get done.
We had our breast cancer month package in today's paper, and I think it turned out pretty good. It was nice to be able to have some time to work on it, instead of just having Saturday afternoon, which is how it seems most of my Saturdays turn out. I've already gotten a couple compliments on my column, which I put off writing until Friday night. It wasn't that it was that hard to write, it was just the thought of getting to it. I don't necessarily think it's the best thing I've ever written, but I think it got my thoughts across.
Since you have to be a subscriber to read my paper's online content, here's my part of the package today:
Life can change dramatically in an instant.
For me, that instant came on Mother's Day, when, while getting dressed, I felt a lump in my left breast.
I think on some level, I knew instantly. It was cancer. But I’m only 36. Cancer was something old people get.
Or so I thought.
I put off visiting the doctor for several weeks. I did some research on the Internet. There are many other things besides cancer that can cause lumps in the breast of a woman under 40.
Despite that information, I could not keep the thought out of my head — I have cancer.
I learned on July 8 my instinct was right. After a mammogram and sonogram, a biopsy was ordered. I reported that day to Dr. Christine Kelly’s office.
"I think you’re about to become a Kelly girl," she said moments after entering the exam room. It took awhile for the meaning of that to sink in.
Only two things shocked me as much as getting the news I had breast cancer: that I was the fifth woman under the age of 40 Dr. Kelly had diagnosed at that point in the year, and that practically everyone I told about my cancer said that someone close to them had also had breast cancer.
Even though it seemed my life had changed quickly, the next few weeks seemed to move much too slowly. I had cancer, shouldn't we be moving quickly to treat it? But there needed to be tests done to make sure it hadn't spread --— x-ray, CT scan, bone scan, MRI. All came back OK. It was a great relief. But I was eager to start, to get rid of this thing.
That day came Aug. 9. I was scared. I'’ve always been healthy and hardly even gone to a doctor in my adult life. Now all of a sudden I'’d had tests and surgery to implant a type of catheter in my chest and would soon have drugs more caustic than battery acid infused into my body every three weeks.
I am tired for days after treatment and have had trouble with my white blood cell count. Consequently, at work, I have to be separated from my coworkers so I'm not at as much risk for catching a communicable disease, like a cold, that could be devastating to my body. I miss the business of the newsroom, and my coworkers have to make a special effort just to say "hi." It stinks, but right now it is what keeps me at work as much as possible.
I forget things easily. I don'’t know how many times I've walked into the newsroom or into my kitchen and wondered why. I had an overdraft on my checking account for the first time in five years because I forgot to enter a couple purchases in my checkbook record. If if weren't for my mother helping to keep track of my finances, I would not be paying some of my medical bills in a timely fashion. It's very disconcerting when I read through my journal and have no memory of some of the things I describe.
But several things have set my mind at ease. My parents and brother, who have taken all quite well. It seems we've grown closer and been able to talk more openly. My friends and coworkers, who have all offered support and laughs when I need it. My dog, who is always there for me and doesn't care if I don't have any hair. And especially the medical team, from the staffs at Dr. Katrina Hess' and Dr. Kelly's offices and the staff at Hays Medical Center’s Dreiling/Schmidt Cancer Center. They have all be straightforward about what I would be dealing with, yet comforting at the same time. I've also recently found a group of remarkable women, Sisters of Survival, as another means of support. They know what I am going through and are proof cancer can be a new beginning to life, rather than an end.
Tuesday will be my fourth round of chemotherapy. After that, I'm scheduled for a lumpectomy around the first of November, and then three more months of chemo. The treatment has gone well, for which I am thankful. I haven'’t had the nausea and mouth sores and other side effects that can make treatment awful for some, and at my last sonogram the tumor was almost completely gone. I am confident I will beat this thing. It will never far from my mind though, for the rest of my life. Living with and after cancer is a whole new reality. But I won'’t let it get me.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Nipper's better
Took Nipper to the vet yesterday for a follow-up. His blood test came back good. The doc explained that two weeks ago on his blood test, the indicators for his liver wouldn't even register. She suspects he does have a problem with his liver, but doesn't seem real concerned right now. She's got him on an herbal supplement that has dandelion and milk thistle that's supposed to help his liver and wants us to check back in December. Actually, the supplement she had us get came from a local natural foods store, which helped us save over $80 what it would cost through her office. That's a sign of a good vet, if you ask me. I'm sure Nipper's glad he gets to continue his "magic cheese."
Tonight, I went to a meeting of a local breast cancer support group. I was the youngest person there, which I guess is good and bad, but there were quite a few who aren't that much older than me. It was kind of nice to get out of the house for one, and especially among people who could relate to how I feel and what I'm going through. There's just some things I don't want to talk about with just anyone, for various reasons. The Web is OK for that, but it's not quite the same as having face-to-face contact, so I think this group will be a good thing (is that to Martha-ish?).
It's turning cold in our area -- it could get to freezing tonight. Got to go put my cactus plants somewhere safe.
Tonight, I went to a meeting of a local breast cancer support group. I was the youngest person there, which I guess is good and bad, but there were quite a few who aren't that much older than me. It was kind of nice to get out of the house for one, and especially among people who could relate to how I feel and what I'm going through. There's just some things I don't want to talk about with just anyone, for various reasons. The Web is OK for that, but it's not quite the same as having face-to-face contact, so I think this group will be a good thing (is that to Martha-ish?).
It's turning cold in our area -- it could get to freezing tonight. Got to go put my cactus plants somewhere safe.
Monday, October 03, 2005
As I was saying ....
I just spent about 15 minutes writing a post, previewed it, then clicked the wrong thing and lost it all. You'd think I could've just clicked my back button, BUT NooooOOOOOoooooo! Thanks a lot, Blogger. (why does Blogger's spellchecker not know "Blogger"?)
Anyway, as I was going to say, last week was OK, but not the best. It seems the effects of the chemo drugs might be a bit accumulative. Normally on the second week of the treatment cycle, I'm on my way to feeling pretty good. But all last week my stomach was a bit queasy, and it seemed the "chemo brain" was worse. I was clumsier than usual, and more forgetful. There were several times I walked out into the newsroom, and couldn't remember why. I was almost in a car accident Friday. I was going to change lanes, signaled, looked behind me and moved into the lane and got honked at by someone who I swear was not there before. I adjusted my mirrors and am real careful driving in city traffic, but it was unnerving.
I also got into a fight with my boss Friday just before the end of the day. We both were shouting at each other. He apologized for his behavior, which I appreciated, but I just kind of mumbled "me too." Not to play the cancer card, but well, hell I have cancer. It, and the future, are on my mind a lot. Not to mention that I have some pretty serious drugs put into me that wreak havoc with my brain and body. I'm going to be moody. And I don't know what will set me off until it happens. Like this morning, our reporter who is writing some stories for breast cancer month e-mailed one of her stories about a support group to me for my opinion. She had invited me to sit in with her on the interview with several of the members last week, and that got emotional at times. But reading that story this morning, I had to close the door to my work area for about five minutes as I cried. I had already heard these women's experiences, but reading about it set me off all over again. I hadn't expected that at all. I just hope I can design the package for Sunday without blubbering like an idiot the whole time.
On to other things. Nipper seems to be doing better. He's eating more of his dog food, not that that stops him from wanting our food any less! He'll go to see the vet tomorrow afternoon, but I'm not sure what to expect. I guess we'll see whether or not she wants to do another ultrasound or blood test or what. I don't know what Nip will do if he doesn't get more pills to take. I always wrap his pills in Velveeta to make it easier to give to him, and call it his "magic cheese." He's come to expect it the last couple weeks, and if we forget he reminds us with The Stare that dogs are so good at doing. I'm sure he'll still expect it after tomorrow.
Mom finished up two skullcaps for me today -- one with chili peppers and one with pumpkins. I also got package today from my brother with a scarf with cool fall colors, a beige skullcap in a neat textured fabric and a cool one with silver dragons. Including ones I've bought and others have given me, I now have 4 bandannas, two scarves and 14 skullcaps. And mom still has six fabrics to make more with. We're going to have to get pictures one of these nights. Maybe I'll post "headcover of the day" shots if we do.
Anyway, as I was going to say, last week was OK, but not the best. It seems the effects of the chemo drugs might be a bit accumulative. Normally on the second week of the treatment cycle, I'm on my way to feeling pretty good. But all last week my stomach was a bit queasy, and it seemed the "chemo brain" was worse. I was clumsier than usual, and more forgetful. There were several times I walked out into the newsroom, and couldn't remember why. I was almost in a car accident Friday. I was going to change lanes, signaled, looked behind me and moved into the lane and got honked at by someone who I swear was not there before. I adjusted my mirrors and am real careful driving in city traffic, but it was unnerving.
I also got into a fight with my boss Friday just before the end of the day. We both were shouting at each other. He apologized for his behavior, which I appreciated, but I just kind of mumbled "me too." Not to play the cancer card, but well, hell I have cancer. It, and the future, are on my mind a lot. Not to mention that I have some pretty serious drugs put into me that wreak havoc with my brain and body. I'm going to be moody. And I don't know what will set me off until it happens. Like this morning, our reporter who is writing some stories for breast cancer month e-mailed one of her stories about a support group to me for my opinion. She had invited me to sit in with her on the interview with several of the members last week, and that got emotional at times. But reading that story this morning, I had to close the door to my work area for about five minutes as I cried. I had already heard these women's experiences, but reading about it set me off all over again. I hadn't expected that at all. I just hope I can design the package for Sunday without blubbering like an idiot the whole time.
On to other things. Nipper seems to be doing better. He's eating more of his dog food, not that that stops him from wanting our food any less! He'll go to see the vet tomorrow afternoon, but I'm not sure what to expect. I guess we'll see whether or not she wants to do another ultrasound or blood test or what. I don't know what Nip will do if he doesn't get more pills to take. I always wrap his pills in Velveeta to make it easier to give to him, and call it his "magic cheese." He's come to expect it the last couple weeks, and if we forget he reminds us with The Stare that dogs are so good at doing. I'm sure he'll still expect it after tomorrow.
Mom finished up two skullcaps for me today -- one with chili peppers and one with pumpkins. I also got package today from my brother with a scarf with cool fall colors, a beige skullcap in a neat textured fabric and a cool one with silver dragons. Including ones I've bought and others have given me, I now have 4 bandannas, two scarves and 14 skullcaps. And mom still has six fabrics to make more with. We're going to have to get pictures one of these nights. Maybe I'll post "headcover of the day" shots if we do.
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