Every day's a new day

I wrote yesterday at a low point; I finally gave in and took an anti-nausea medication that I'd been avoiding just in case it made things worse rather than better. It did it's proper job, however, or else I just timed it right, and I finally regained an appetite, and stopped feeling so low energy and blue.  I had also done a meditation which helped, and I ought to do that again before I go to bed this evening.

Today has been a totally different day. I have been active - taking the dog for a long walk - and I got a massage this morning before going grocery shopping and doing some housework, making dinner, and just generally staying busy the entire day. I feel nearly normal, and today was much like an average Sunday for me. I'm grateful for the holiday, and hope going back to work tomorrow won't be too tough, but I'm very eager to see how I do.

I'm enjoying my new "do"; it's so easy to deal with this short short cut, and somehow, young people seem to be more at ease with me...that may be an illusion, but it does feel that way at the moment. Too bad it will be gone soon, along with my eyebrows and lashes; it will be interesting to note the responses I receive to that.

Sunday, Day 5

I wrote early yesterday; the day got worse. So far, yesterday and today have been the days that have been hardest to keep moving, to eat and to keep up my spirits as I contemplate the length of this regime. One day at a time, one bite at a time, one step. One blog.

I was okay yesterday at the mall with my friend Mary-Ann, who helped me scope out makeup for the time when I will need it, a skin care plan to avoid dreadful dryness, and to enjoy, for the time it remains on my head, this little chic hair-do. But the trip exhausted me, and although I had planned to do a bit extra shopping on the way home, and to stop and visit with Hilary for a few minutes, I just couldn't bring myself to any extras. I went home and napped, and continued napping on and off for the rest of the day. The long sleep last night was surely very healing, but I can't remember when I've slept so long, even with the few surgeries I've had this year.

Today has been better; I was able to do some shopping this morning, and to do some housekeeping - laundry - this afternoon, and Dave and I re-hung some artwork and some curtains that had needed attention. Don't know if I'd mentioned that we had a new roof put on the house last Monday, just before I began treatment, and had to wait for all that pounding to be over to rework the wall hangings. I am also trying to figure out where and how to grow the wheatgrass seed flats that came with the kit my dad sent me at my request; I know I want the fresh stuff and that I will be ready, willing and able to juice it, but the growing of it is a bit of a mystery - how do I keep the trays from leaking all over my floor when there are no underliners? How do I keep my cat out of the trays of grass when they are lush? I guess I'll figure it out as I go.

The queeziness has been really rough yesterday and today, and I have been trying to get by with only the anti-nausea drugs, Emmend and Dexamethasone, that they give on day 1-3, but today I tried the breakthrough medication Zofran and it is indeed helping. I'm trying to keep the meds to a minimum, but gotta get through it. One day, one bite, one pill, one breath at a time.

Day 4

The day of the infusion is day 1; that was Wednesday. I worked Thursday and Friday-mercifully slow days this week with the holiday coming up- and did okay. The anti-nausea medications given are effective and I have simply felt queezy over the last few days, staying hydrated and trying to keep something in my tummy at all times. Plain rice cakes, which I've never been fond of, are easy to eat and seem to do the trick. Lots of green tea and ginger tea too are helping. And staying reasonably active, although today I am really taking it easy. I've been warned that this is often the worst day, and so far, if this is as bad as it gets, I can tolerate it, but I'm glad I didn't have an agenda. I am about to go off to meet a friend at a make up store and prepare for the point at which my heavy dark eyebrows and lashes are gone-although I'm pretty good with makeup on the rare occasion in good health that I choose to use it, I will need help to know how to "make up" for that. When I get home from that excursion, I plan to lay low, and walk the dog after the sun goes down as it is a hot day.

Day 2 of chemo cycle #1

I feel pretty good; I woke up somewhat queasy, trying not to be fearful that I would be actively nauseous. I took the prescribed meds-Emmend and Dexamethasone-and made myself eat something and discovered that I felt pretty good pretty fast. I expect the Dexamethasone is making me feel tougher than I really am, but it felt great to be able to go to work and be able to do my job without much trouble. I went for a brisk walk this afternoon with my coworker Carey, and she noticed that I was doing some huffing and puffing and walking slower than usual, but I got in a good walk and walked a bit a couple of other times as well. Wore a blood pressure monitor all day that went off every half hour and recorded data on a small drive; that was an annoying inconvenience, but surely a useful source of monitoring information for the study trying to discern which women might develop  and me as well. I'd meant to come home and walk the dog, but went to buy some groceries after work and once home realized that I had left my medications on my desk at the office. So the dog got a ride in the car instead of a walk, and I am writing this blog for anyone who is interested in this minutia, and for me to have a reference of symptoms and what is working to combat them.

Frequent snacks and small meals seem to be a good approach to staying grounded and avoiding nausea, and I suspect the appetite today, larger than it has been for quite a while, is also courtesy of the Dex. I am only supposed to take these for one more day, and perhaps that is why I have heard that day 4 & 5 tend to be the toughest; you're coming down from those meds at the same time your white blood cells are at their lowest. 

Yesterday was wonderful in some ways; we got to see Dave's oncologist, Dr. David Johnson, for the last time after nearly 5 years of warm, regular visits-he is moving on to Dallas. We will miss him. But the word he had for us is that  Dave that he is looking good, blood work and chest xray clear and stable weight. And Dave got to meet my beautiful Indian Oncologist, Vandana Abramson, and the equally lovely research doctor Dr. Vinapalli who directs one of the studies with which I'm participating.

But it was plenty horrible and scary, too. The port is a wonderful alternative to getting lots of needle sticks, but it is rather central-makes me nervous, but is the lesser fear. Feeling the drugs going so deep into my body, well, I'm sure there's some kind of sensuality there, but I'd have preferred to never contemplate it. A great nurse can make all the difference, and I had a great one in my chemo nurse, but had a research nurse involved who continued talking about blood after asked Dave had to go teach, but between the nurse and Rachel, I was kept quite entertained. I must remember to bring more snacks to these things; the cancer center offers lots of snacks, but mostly of the kind that I prefer not to eat-peanut butter crackers, cookies, coffee and water in styrofoam cups, and thankfully bananas. Better to pack a picnic.

I'm participating in a clinical trial and a couple of related research projects; it means I get a lot of extra surveillance. That means that I have a crazy schedule and less time to call friends; those calls have  been a great treat since my diagnosis; must keep up the communication. The lovely messages left on my FaceBook page have been humbling and helpful. I thought that I had a very strong dose of this kind of encouragement as a spouse in the cancer experience, but as a patient it is a mega-hit. I'm a lucky girl.

Every good day is a good day, and today was a good day; let's have another tomorrow.

1st infusion

It was weird; a weird experience, a long and wild day. I hope to outline the details when I am less tired and getting to this earlier. I feel pretty good, but a little weird. John Prine is on Letterman. That is nice...

Day before infusion # 1

Okay, so I'm apprehensive; who wouldn't be?  But overall, I'm feeling pretty good about everything. My port incision is healing up well, and I think it will be a very big improvement over having my arms beat up with needles on a regular basis. Just gotta remember to put the numbing cream on it in the morning before I leave the house, and to bring it with me. I need some kind of med calendar, so that I can keep track of all of the various pills I'm taking and when. Not to mention the supplements.

I had an MRI of my heart taken today; part of a clinical study that is trying to predict which people will have cardiovascular issues with the chemo regime I'm taking. I feel this can only benefit me as it means increased surveillance, and i can drop out any time I chose. I'll do another MRI on Friday. I feel bionic! And very well cared for. But it's hard to fathom that I have had a malignant tumor and that I may have some bad cells left in there when I feel so darn WELL! A bit tired tonight as I didn't get much sleep the past couple of nights, and as I took a Valium to make it through my MRI, but overwhelmingly I feel just great, strong and healthy. I plan to stay that way.

Yesterday we had a new roof put on the house; had to empty the attic-boxes are everywhere and the house is a mess! I'll get it cleaned on Saturday. And tomorrow morning, before my doctors appointments and infusion, Dave has a semi annual check up with his oncologist who is leaving Vanderbilt next month. It's a hectic week. I'm looking forward to the holiday Monday.

Busy Day-After-Surgery

When I woke this morning, I felt pretty bad. I thought about the upcoming mornings-after that I will experience and decided I was going to make up my mind to get up and feel fine. Part of feeling bad probably had to do with having let myself get behind with my pain meds yesterday and having taken 10mgs of Valium to help me sleep. But once I was up and moving, I felt much better. I made a point of keeping track of my meds today, writing down each time I took one. I also used a homeopathic remedy that my friend who is a specialist in this field gave to me. It seems to work synergistically with the oxycodone. We went to a couple of farmer's markets, Grace driving as I cannnot while still on the meds. Did a lot of cooking, had some photos taken of Dave and myself-I'd wanted a portrait of us for our 25th anniversary, which was the day before the biopsy and kind of got ignored with the situation as it is-and even got a nap in this afternoon and watched a movie tonight. Busy day, pretty normal. Enjoyed the heck out of it.

Breast treatment

I have been away from this blog for a long while now, suddenly distracted by a more pressing health issue-a tumor found during a routine breast screening (MRIs for me as mammograms never show anything in my case), just a few days before my 25th wedding anniversary. Please don't tell me cancer is a gift... A biopsy showed malignancy, but probably early, stage 1, ductal carcinoma, and a lumpectomy shortly thereafter revealed clean margins, but small amounts of disease in 2 of the 6 lymphnodes taken. Ah me....now we are in for the big cancer killing experience of chemo and whatever comes after that. I plan to blog throughout this experience and will try to fill in the early details that I have been just too darn busy to record. I also plan to work, and hope I will be able to achieve that level of normalcy, as I love a routine. I think that will help me.

It's been a wild time, filled with momentous events, as the big flood we have recently experienced here in Nashville gave some valuable perspective to my plight-a personal challenge with opportunity to fight, unlike some of the unlucky flood victims' situations-but it delayed my receiving the pathological result of my surgery as my doctor himself was a flood victim. My meditation skills, always a valuable asset, have been radically improved in an emergency-response fashion; I had to stay calm an extra 3 days before finding out my fate. And while the storm rolled over my house during my surgical convelescence, I sat and watched as rain poured in down the face of the fireplace-a beautiful sight, but indicative of the condition of the roof, which will now be replaced next week.

Surreal-this whole experience has had an aura of that, but as time goes on, it is beginning to feel like a new normal. I feel fine physically, and it is hard to reconcile the concept that I will have to poisen myself to prolong my life. But the fear factor is diminishing and so far, I'm still my same high-energy self. It will be interesting to me to review how each day unfolds. Taking it one day at a time.