Surprises

that white stuff is hair-yahoo!

Somehow today weepy-ness is going around; I've been feeling alternately aggravated, angry and weepy myself, and my nurse Jenny tells me that I'm not the only patient she's dealt with today who has expressed similar feelings. I know for me it has something to do with my pins-and-needles/burning feet, but there's something else going on too. Partly it's in response to gripping the reality that treatment is almost at an end, and the decision about the next step needs to be made. One moment I think I'm clear on that, the next, not so much. Surprising to feel so much emotion today, when yesterday it seemed so matter of fact.

can you see my short short white hair? feels great!

Another surprise today is the news about the 24 hour urine collection from yesterday-it was completely for naught. I held my pee and made sure that I had my discrete Mylar freezer bag with me whenever I ran to the bathroom at work yesterday, and had the collection container in my fridge overnight (yuck), worrying about the chance that it could leak, then carried the heavy thing in to work today. Surprise! I called Glenda to ask where to leave it and she told me that they are no longer collecting for this last Avastin cycle. Grrr...poor Dr. V came by to let me know this in person, but just as I was ranting to my coworkers at the clinic about my long-sufferings.  (I think she overheard me; at least I got to tell her to her face.) She was very apologetic, overly so actually because I wasn't really mad, just frustrated. But at least I won't have to do that again, nor wear the 24 hour BP monitor, nor the little finger-cuffs. But I don't really know what information is going to be gleaned from my earlier piss-offerings anyway, as I was "unblinded" today for the study I believe that monitoring was connected with, the Avastin study, I was assigned to "arm A", the placebo group. I have not received Avastin anyway. And that's probably good, as my oncologist said that among her patients who she knows have received it, there seems to be more toxicity, more neuropathy and poorer overall experience during chemo. No telling for now how their outcomes will be. I'm okay with not having received the drug; I don't believe I needed it anyway. One less bag of saline to sit through while it infuses.

Quite a few patients and coworkers surprised me recently with gifts-a hand-made pink fuzzy neck scarf, a T-shirt with the logo "Tough enough to wear pink", needlework, topical analgesics, and in the past massages, reiki sessions, meals, the juicer...always a treat and a pleasant surprise. I'm learning to accept gifts, hopefully graciously. I hope I give adequate thanks; I appreciate the care beyond telling.

Vanderbilt in its wisdom moved the breast cancer patients to the new medical center off campus at 100 Oaks, so very close to my house, for infusion and doctor visits as well. Last week, the initial visit was a nightmare-2 hours behind schedule with an evacuation of the building in the form of a fire drill to boot. Today, all ran smoothly and on time. I had bitched loudly about the chaos last week to the front desk staff at my clinic this morning; I am suitably humbled by the antithetical experience today. It was as smooth and stress free as any chemotherapy session can be. They even had the snacks being passed around which becomes important when you are stuck there for hours. I don't eat any of that stuff, always bring a lunch box with sandwiches on sprouted wheat or rye bread, hummus, carrots, apples, stuff like that. But Dave had some baked Lays and I drank my green tea and ate my sandwich and wished they had bananas in that basket.

It's important that I bring that lunch box-almost skipped it this morning and am glad I overcame the urge-because something about the infusion makes me insanely hungry. We went out to get Vietnamese afterward, and I ordered 2 entrees! The waiter looked at me like I was crazy (I was) and I assured him that I intended to take half home for lunch tomorrow, and indeed I did that, but I couldn't stop myself from ordering both the hot and cold dishes that I craved. I'm hungry again. It's the Decadron, I'm sure of it. I'll keep drinking tea and I'll have some fruit, but I really want to try to avoid gaining any more weight. There are no gifts of cancer in my world, but slimming down was one of the okay things that happened post diagnosis; I'd like to maintain the slimmer me, all the better to show off the new boobs when they are all done.

I think I'm going to start a daily symptom log (that should be good and boring for any readers!) so that I can keep track of the severity of the neuropathy and have a reference to help me decide on continuing or not with the Taxol. I've had 10 treatments; going back to my priorities, I have to decide whether I can tolerate these symptoms and the possibility that they could be permanent. I am going to take it day by day. Today was a melancholy day, but a good one. Another good day.