Wednesday, September 1, 2010

In the chemo chair again...

Taxol #6 today, with Claritin and decreased Decadron, hurrah. Waiting for the Taxol to start being infused; the lower dose of Decadron is well over with and has been for about 20 minutes. It's so busy here today that I hate to hit the nurse button and bug Jenny as I'm sure she has a long list of patients requiring her attention, and I frankly don't even know if my stuff is up here from the pharmacy yet.  I have been fighting depression these last couple of weeks; it's a darned long haul with this chemo protocol, and I'm just tired of it, and not yet seeing the destination on the horizon. I'm eager to be viewing the finish line in the rear view mirror, rolling down the road on new adventures with lots of stories to tell about my trip through this profound but unwelcome experience. This infusion marks the halfway point of Taxol...I think this will help me emotionally, as I start to count down to the last.

This wig was lent to me by Hilary's neighbor and I'm so grateful to have it to wear right now. It's been fun to try different hairdo's with the 2 straight wigs and to have the "underhair" made of my own to wear from time to time, but this little short curly wig does not have the effect of stopping me in my tracks whenever I catch a glimpse of myself; I look like me with a short cut. The straight hair has been fun, but when I look at photos of me with it, or look in the mirror, I'm confronted with a stranger.  I'm ready for that to end. And this wig is also human hair, and therefore much less itchy and more comfortable than the 2 synthetic ones. I was lent a couple of others as well and will surely wear them at some point because I'm still enjoying the theatricality of the whole wig thing, and because it will still be quite a while until I'm fully furred on top enough to go wigless, but I'm going to be very happy to stick with this look most of the time while I'm waiting the end of the "baby bird" look.

There is a pompous ass in the next cubicle who loves to hear himself talk, speaking loudly so that we cannot help but be treated to his boring story of his wonderful life; I wish he would shut up. It's a "private" room here, meaning that it has its own 3 walls and curtain, but it is not secluded audio wise and between the overheard conversations, TVs and the beeping IVs, it's annoyingly difficult to listen to one's inner voice or concentrate on studying, writing or whatever. See, I'm truly cranky...but also grateful that the chemo has been downgraded to a lower dose of drugs all around. I'm doing better with less.

I have the  weirdest thing going on with my left thumb...there is a little knot on the side facing the index finger, about half an inch below the 1st joint. It hurts or causes a numb feeling around it when palpated, and the doctor says that it feels like a fluid filled cyst. She ordered an ultrasound of it but they can't get me in to have the imaging done until next week. Of course my concern was that it might indicate a metastasis, but she said that it is not, it doesn't feel like a malignancy and it is not an area that mets show up in. It seems to have started concurrently with that 3rd Taxol treatment, and messing with it recreates some of those neuropathic symptoms, so I don't know if it is a separate issue or a side effect of treatment. Dr. A said she'd never seen anything like it before. So far, it's not debilitating. I don't intend to let it become so.

I got an email from an old friend this week that let me know he is suffering from a neurological disorder that makes him unable to walk normally, and that it is associated with a cancer for which he is still deciding on a treatment plan. I know he's scared, of course, and I wish I could do something for him. I feel so helpless to make a difference for others although I'm pretty good at feeling powerful in my own care and decision-making. I am daily astounded at the number of personal friends as well as famous personalities that I hear of dealing with their own diagnoses of the big C-how odd that this disease is so prevalent that living with it is the topic of a pop TV series. Living with it, okay, I can accept that...dying with it is not something I can consider calmly, for myself or anyone else. We all gotta go, sometime, somehow, but not this way...not now...

I want to go back to focusing on the good, every good day is a good day. Today is a good day. A little blue but good. That's the thing for me, be present with what is reality for me this day, at this moment.  A break in the heat, a blue sky, another chemo down...life is good. Shrimp for dinner.

1 comment:

Chandani said...

Cute hair! Though I must say, I think you also look great bald.

Very cool that you're halfway done with Taxol. I just finished AC and start my 12 rounds of Taxol next week, and I'm so with you on being tired of the whole long trip. But you're on the home stretch! I hope the rest of it goes well for you, and flies by. :-)