Thursday, March 27, 2014

Little Bursts of Sunshine out of Lemons

Most people who know me well would say that I'm pretty good about finding a silver lining in even the darkest cloud.  When life gives us lemons, we have to make lemonade. I can look back at several things throughout my life that seemed so challenging (Oh, my gosh, I'll never survive this!!!) at the time, and find positive things that came from those events.  What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger, right?  I don't think that I've ever dealt with anything more challenging, frightening, or frustrating than breast cancer, but one of the things that keeps me going is what I call my "Little Bursts of Sunshine."  The little bits of sunshine come in so many shapes and sizes, and in some rather unexpected places...


More often than not, when I open up my mailbox, I find an encouraging, sunny, cheerful or funny card. (It's so much more fun than the usual stack of bills and business correspondence.  Who knew, that getting cancer would turn up the excitement levels on my daily postal deliveries?) These cards have come from all over the United States, some from people I know, some from people I don't.  My mom's Sunday school class has done a great job of sending me cards on an almost weekly basis, along with encouraging little notes and tons of prayers.  One day I came home to find a hand made card in my box created by my neighbors girls.  You can bet that brought tears to my eyes.  And there was the card from a children's Sunday school class in Pennsylvania, suggested by a sweet little angel whose family I placed a rescue boxer with... more tears!  (I don't think I've ever cried so much, actually, I know that I haven't!  Actually, prior to my cancer diagnosis, I was so exhausted, that no matter what happened, I was pretty much unable to cry for several months!  I guess the tear fairy new I needed to be stockpiling...)  For a while, my mom had the cards displayed on the bookshelves in my office, and it brought me such joy to walk into my office and see them all lined up there, bright and cheerful bursts of colors and good wishes.  Knowing that all of those people were thinking of me, rooting for me, and praying for me has been so uplifting.

There have been a ton of fun packages arriving in the mail!  Several weeks ago, I got a fantastic box full of all kinds of goodies from my cousin and her boys.  Each of the boys had made me a get well card and written me a wonderful little note.  Shortly after that there was the beautiful ruffle scarf handmade by one of the girls from my mom's church.

I am also blessed to have not only 1, but 2 chemo angels.  My angels send me beautiful cards, pictures, notes, and all kinds of little things that make me smile.  These amazing tulips arrived several weeks ago, on a particularly bad day, and my spirits were immediately lifted!  Tulips are my favorite, and it would be impossible not to love this beautiful bunch of blooms, I smiled every time I saw them for a week!  As screwy as my brain is right now, I can't remember anything, and for weeks had notes scattered all over the place... then one day, a beautiful little blue (my favorite color) notebook arrives and all of a sudden... the chemo patient with the wonky chemo brain has some semblance of order... now where did I put that book?  And where are my keys, and my glasses, and my wallet, and my cell phone...

Chemo Angels is such a powerful program, it's just amazing to me that complete strangers would volunteer to brighten the day of someone going through cancer treatments, and I will certainly be signing up to be someone's angel as soon as I am done with my cancer battle.  My angels have definitely made a positive difference in my spirits as I go through my treatments.

And of course, there are my 2 little boxer angels who are constantly making me giggle and smile.  They both follow me around the house making sure I'm okay, dozens of times each day.  When I shower, they wait outside the shower for me to emerge.  When I go somewhere and arrive back home, they're both waiting for the door with kisses and wiggles to welcome me home!  And when our days are over, and I collapse into bed with my heating pad, they both snuggle up and get as close as they can get to me.  They're never far away, and it makes me so happy to be loved by these two little creatures!  They are my guardian angels!

These of course are just some of the things that have made me smile over the course of the last 3 months, as I've mentioned so many times, the kindness and compassion of friends, family and even people that I barely know has been staggering.



Monday, March 24, 2014

Even Superwomen Gets Runs in Her Tights!

My best efforts to remain perfectly healthy while undergoing chemo were thwarted by a huge mess of circumstances.  The chemo has given me allergies, allergies that I didn't have before.  The allergies made my sinus' incredibly wonky which led  to something that closely resembled a sinus infection, but wasn't quite a sinus infection and that horrible sinus drainage down the back of my throat. A sinus infection that I figured if nursed, would just disappear because it wasn't a raging sinus infection. (Little did I know!  Note to self: this is not the body you've lived in for the last 39 years, this is a chemo body!)   But then the drainage down the back of my throat started making my throat scratchy, so I started gargling with salt water... And then came the final blow, 8 days after my treatment, my husband begins coughing, sneezing and sniffling.  NOOOOO!!

I can't.
I will not.
Ain't doing it.
There is no way I am getting that cold.  Out came the vitamins (D3, C and garlic), and I started drinking enough water to float a small yacht.  When I felt a slight tickle in my throat, I even agreed to let my mom make her crazy "brew" (boiled Coca-Cola, ginger, and lemon- oh the things that I am enduring).  I drank several mugs full of that insanely yucky potion, putting forth my best effort not to wrinkle my nose (I didn't want my mom to feel bad) to no avail.  (I am not a big fan of ginger to begin with, but there seems to be a lot of in most of the suggested food for chemo patients because of it's ability to help with nausea!  One thing I know for sure, once this is all over, I will never, ever, not in a million years, want to taste or see ginger ever again!  I may not even be able to talk about it.)

Despite my best efforts and my mom's crazy brew, it was in the cards for me to get a cold.   It couldn't have come at a worse time, my cousin and her husband and her two boys were visiting from Pennsylvania!  It was the first time that they've been here to see us in Florida, and the 1st time I've seen them since they were married last year.  Thankfully, I got one good day out and about with them before my little cold decided it needed to invade my whole body!

You know the feeling.  Your head feels as if it's the size of the Goodyear Blimp.  Your throat feels like you dumped acid down it.  Your whole body aches.  So, I had no choice, as much as I hate it, I had to do the right thing.  I had to rest, and take lots of naps.  I couldn't do anything else.  (Which drives me insane!)

The most important part of recovery is having someone by your side to keep you company.   Duke loved having his mommy sit still (something he's not really used to!). His soft head on my shoulder made me feel so much better!  (For some reason, this picture makes his head look extremely large!  He's really not that big!)

I had my pre-chemo appointment with my oncologist on Friday morning, and I wasn't feeling any better- I think I was actually getting worse.  I was so congested that I actually slept upright Thursday night, and somewhere in the middle of the night, I developed a horrible cough.  (I never sleep sitting up!)  My oncologist said she got nervous when she heard that I was sick, as I'm scheduled for chemo this coming Friday, but my blood work is still very good!  That was good news, I was a little concerned.  She wrote me a script for a z-pack and told me to call her today if I wasn't feeling better.

Friday afternoon I lost my voice.  It's starting to come back today, I get 5 or 10 minute spans when I don't sound like a scary creature out of bad B movie- even the dogs are looking at me funny when I talk, and my husband keeps telling me he can't understand a word I'm saying. I have to admit, I feel much better today than I did on Friday, and I actually got an almost perfect night of sleep....

I will be happy when this is behind  me!

Monday, March 17, 2014

Let's Talk About Chemo...

I had a very horrid image in my head of chemo.   I've been tainted by the movie industry who very graphically portrays every person receiving chemotherapy as knocking at death's door, horribly weak, throwing up 24/7, unable to get out of bed, huge bags under their eyes and most importantly bald.  Frankly, I wasn't nearly as afraid of being told that I had cancer, as I was of being told that I needed chemotherapy.   The image of chemo that I had in my head, coupled with my fear of the darn thing was so bad that when my surgeon added chemotherapy to my little cancer road map, I toyed with the idea of asking her if I could just try some herbs instead.

As hard as I tried to wake up from my "You've got cancer" nightmare, it didn't work, and I hesitantly reported for my first chemo session.  (My little chemotherapy education class did little to squash my fears.  The nurse who gave my mother and I our little rundown had a bad habit of bouncing her head from side to side as she was talking, and I'm pretty sure she was snapping her chewing gum in between ridiculous little bits of chemo information.  I hate to be critical, but that's not the kind of person that you want to get chemotherapy information from, I kept waiting for her to ask if I wanted fries.)  But, after 3 sessions, I am here to tell you, that chemo really hasn't been that bad.  Re-read that please.  I didn't say chemo is fun- it's not, but compared to the alternatives, I'll take it. On the grand scale of things, considering how frightening the condition, the treatment isn't really that horrible. I am being bluntly honest, so I'll tell you about my chemo.

My 1st chemo treatment was an 8 hour long event.  Thankfully, it was the longest of my 6 pre-surgery chemo treatments.  The worst part of it, honestly, was not knowing what to expect, that'll get you every time!  I had a lot of concerns, I spent the entire night before my treatment dreaming up possible scenarios.  I worried about getting sick half way through, and them having to stop, but my chemo nurse had other plans for me.  Before they even started pumping the poison through my veins, they gave me a whole bag of anti-nausea medication (rumored to work for 3... yes, I said 3 days!) and a whole bag of Benedryl. I've never had so much Benedryl in one sitting (I think it was enough to take out a whole pack of elephants.  Do elephants travel in packs or in herds?  Oh, this chemo brain is making me crazy... but that's another subject for another day!) and you would have thought it would have knocked me out, but no, it wound me up.    I had a very hard time sitting still for 8 hours- and going for a stroll with an IV pole, isn't exactly a walk in the park.  They don't steer easily, and when the nurses start asking "Do you need help finding your chair, dear?" you know it's time to turn that puppy around.

The days following my 1st and 2nd treatment were long, but only because I get so easily frustrated.  My biggest complaint from the 1st two treatments was being so tired and lethargic all the time, and my bones hurt like I was 80.  I had a very hard time letting go of the fact that I couldn't do everything that I had done prior to the chemo. My mom and I would go places, and I would get tired after an hour and be ready to head home.  (Secretly I was just missing the boxers!)  That really frustrated me.  Other than being tired, I felt fine.  I would try to battle through it, "You're not tired!", "Keep going, you can do it".  It would work for 10 or 15 minutes and then my brain would just quit functioning.  Add to all of that my 5 lb. weight restriction (for 4 weeks I was not allowed to push, pull or lift anything over 5 lbs.), I was a good candidate for a serious meltdown.

Then came the insomnia.  For about a week, good, sound, sleep was not a part of my existence.   My oncologist gave me Ambien and told me to just take a 1/2 of  a pill.  Well, that didn't work, and neither did the whole one.  I would lay in bed watching movie, after movie, praying for sleep.  I would eventually fall asleep, have insanely vivid nightmares that made no sense, and  wake up at 4 AM.   And I was wide awake, my brain was going 100 mph and it was going everywhere that it could possibly go.   My mom and I had been walking around the neighborhood daily, but when all of this monkey business with not being able to get a good nights sleep started, I figured maybe I needed more exercise.  So, we would go 3 or 4 times a day.  It didn't help.  Thankfully with this round, it hasn't been so bad.

My 3rd round of chemo was a week and a 1/2 ago.  It was a celebratory round for me because I am half way to surgery.  I was afraid of this round, probably because my husband has said all along if I was going to get really sick, it would be with this round.  And while I was more nauseous than I have ever been in my life, I did not get really sick.  I am not bouncing back from this round like I did with the 2nd round.  I'm not sure why, maybe it was the fact that I had a 100.8 fever the day I got the chemo.  That scared me to death, but my chemo nurse sent me home and told me to call if it got worse, or if wasn't gone in a couple of days. I didn't know this, but Flu like symptoms are a side effect of the chemo and the steroids that I take before treatment- I don't know how I had escaped this thus far.

There are a lot of wonky side effects that I'm experiencing with chemo.  Most of them, I was warned about (another post, another day), but some were devilishly left from the lists that I was given.  For example, it might have been nice to know that at any given moment in the weeks following chemo treatments, my nose could just start running wildly like a river(when moments before I was so stuffed up I could hardly stand it.).  Or one minute I would be scratching my eyes out because they were so dry, and the next I would be crying like I had just watched 16 ASPCA commercials in a row.  Had I  known these things, I might have stocked up on Kleenex at SAM's Club.  My cravings for food run all over the map.  I can go from ravenous to "Get that food out of here" in a drop of a hat.  One day, I'm capable of ripping through 16 king size candy bars without ever stopping, and the next I run screaming in the opposite direction at the mere mention of a candy bar.    I just never know what I'm going to wake up to, it's almost like I'm living in someone else's body...frankly, I'm not all that fond of it, and they can have it back any time!


Thursday, March 13, 2014

This Titanic Ain't Sinking!

Somewhere in the chaos of the news, I found an inner peace.  It was a peace that would continue to baffle me in the coming weeks as friends and family wondered how it was that I wasn't totally freaking out.  I'm not sure if it came at the exact moment that my breast surgeon looked at me and said "I've got this..." (and I believed her 100%) or if it came later.  That hour in her office is such a blur, as were the hours spent at the hospital later that afternoon,  in a trance.  I remember the sweet lady who drew my blood (as I laid on the floor, feet in the air to keep from passing out as she told me that she is 65 years old and walks 7 miles a day.  She was amazing, in and out, never felt a thing- which is no small task with my veins).  I remember the goofy x-ray technician who took my chest x-ray, he seemed oddly nervous (Did I have a deer in the headlights look on my face and just not know it?  Or is it possible that this was his first x-ray without someone watching over him?  He looked like it was his first day on the job.).  And I remember the sweet lady who took my echo on my heart.  We talked about our Grandfathers and the wonderful vegetables that they grew, and she told me about eating ice cream in Amish Country.  She also told me that my surgeon was one of the best. So, yes, I do recall some of the events of that day.  They have all been filed away somewhere in my brain under the category of things that will be a part of this epic tale.

And if I can't remember when I started to feel the peaceful wave of calm take over my whole body, I certainly can't remember when I started feeling sassy and unbeatable!  When did my superwoman mojo that graced me in my fearless early 20's before becoming an over 30, over-worked, over-stressed out, extremely tired non-superwoman, return?  I guess it didn't really matter, all that counted was that she was back!  I was sure that I had lost her for good; my hectic life was too much even for her to handle.  Woo-hoo.  I was so happy to have her back, that I didn't even bother to ask her what the heck she was thinking to have left me in the first place.

There she was,  and I don't know know why but this is always how I have imagined her, in a cute little skirt, super-high heels, and of course walking her boxers!  (Although, I would not dare walk even one of my boxer in heels- it's challenging enough in running shoes!)

I have always been the type of person that will attempt anything as long as I have some clue what's going on, a plan or a list is a definite necessity.  The road map that my surgeon drew out for me, made it all seem less daunting.  As long as I had an idea what was coming, I could do this; I was a woman with a plan.  Actually, I was about to be a woman with a plan, and a team!  I really didn't have much of a choice.  At one point during our conversation with the surgeon, my husband looked at her and said, "What if she doesn't do what you're telling her to do?"  Well, if I didn't do it, breast cancer would kill me.  So, it was what had to be done.

Of all the news I received that day, perhaps the most upsetting was the fact that they couldn't remove the lump from my left breast.  I wanted it gone, I wanted it out and I wanted it out yesterday.  This horrible thing that had invaded my body, and was sucking every last bit of energy that I had right out of me didn't deserve to spend another minute residing in my body.  It may have derailed my whole life temporarily, but it was not going to claim me as a permanent victim, and in no way was it welcome.  The pain was unbearable, so intense that I had even gotten to the point where I asked for pain pills so that I could get some relief from the constant presence.  (And I am a girl who hates pain medications so much that I had a crown procedure without Novocaine.)

I was terrified of everything that was about to happen to me, and I hate being terrified.  Anxiety is not my friend, and frankly, I don't thrive on anxiety.  I had to find a way to stop being scared of everything that was about to take place.  I started reading, and the more I read, the calmer that I became.  Women all over the world, many older (and several a lot younger) than me were attacking breast cancer with a vengeance and living to tell their stories.  They were writing books, going on talk shows, blogging and changing the way that world sees breast cancer.  They were beautiful in body and mind, and courageous in spirit.  I could do it to, and I was determined that I would do it with as much grace and composure as humanly possible.  I would not whine, I would not complain.  I would not be angry at God or the world for the cruel hand that had been dealt my way.  I would learn from the experience and enjoy the strength that would come from battling something so horrific.  I would bask in the glory of the fact that I would be a better person for having living through this experience.

The decision to announce publicly on Facebook that I was about to stare breast cancer in the face head on was a hard one.  I battled with the fact that maybe it was just plain tacky, and I really shouldn't do it.  But, I had the thought that maybe,  my experience with breast cancer could be the changing force in someone else's life.  Maybe someone else who thought the way that I did, " I'm too young for a mammogram" would find herself sitting in a doctors office way earlier than I did.  While I'm not sure if that has happened or not, the response to my public announcement was incredible.  I have an amazing cheer leading squad around me.  A group of people, some whom I've never met, some whom I've known for years who are constantly sending me things to cheer me up, telling me that I can do this, and  keeping me motivated.  The positive words of encouragement are a constant ray of sunshine in my life, and they're working.



Wednesday, March 12, 2014

...Taking on Water

Patience doesn't abound when you're in a situation like the one that I was in.  I had a whole week of wondering if the lump that was growing more and more painful by the day was indeed a cancerous lump.   To complicate matters further, my wait was spread over Christmas.  Somehow, I just couldn't focus, and there was no way that I could relax.  I'm sure that the stress did little to help with my exhaustion, and the anxiety of the situation was just making me completely jumpy.  I usually love Christmas, but no matter what I did, there was no way that I could put it all out of my mind.  My overactive mind went into full gear, and a million different scenarios ran through my head for the next 7 days.

The Monday after Christmas, I returned to the surgeons office a nervous wreck, husband in tow, and mildly numbed by a couple of Vicodin pills.  They certainly managed to take the edge off, but I was still way too coherent, I knew exactly what was going on and the implications of the situation.

With the exception of the near pimply radiologist, everyone that I was meeting was amazing.  From the technician that did my mammogram who kept rubbing my back and telling me that I was going to be okay, to the girls in the surgeons office that did everything that they possibly could to sooth my jittery nerves, I couldn't help but think, "Geez, these people are fantastic!"  I cannot even fathom having to give women the worst news of their lives on a daily basis.  They must drink heavily when they get home.  They would have to.  I would.

My breast biopsy and lymph node biopsy went off without a hitch, and I was sent home with my husband to rest and apply ice almost constantly.   Ice packs attached to my breast and my armpit, I hoped that the pain had no intentions of getting any worse.   It did.  But, I survived.  Somehow, I went to work the next day, grimacing every time I moved, who knew that your armpits could be so sensitive?

I had fully prepared myself to be waiting over the weekend for results of my biopsies, and was doing my very best to put it all out of my head.  But, the blinding throbbing coming from my breast wasn't coopering.  I couldn't stand it, it was a constant reminder of what was going on... Boom, boom, boom all day long.  My 5 cm lump was making sure that I knew that it was there, and it wasn't going to be ignored.

When your phone rings before a certain time in the morning, or after a certain time at night, you just know that it's not good news.  I mean who calls you at 4 in the morning to tell you that they've decided to adopt  a puppy, or found the shoes that they've been dying to buy at 75% off?    So, when my phone rang that Friday morning following my biopsy at a few minutes after 7:00, I just had a feeling.  It was my surgeons office, my biopsy results  were back and the surgeon wanted to see me that day at 11:00.  They told me to make sure that I brought someone with me.

And again, I just knew.  I knew what was coming.  I could hear the water rushing onto my Titanic.  Despite hoping and praying that the lump in my breast wasn't cancer, somehow I had prepared myself for being told that I had cancer.

The 4 hour wait until my appointment felt like 5 days.  I couldn't sit still, my husband sat next to me in the exam room scolding me for being unable to stop fidgeting.  I was thankful that we didn't have a long wait.   The surgeon came in, sat down and gave us the news.  "You have cancer."  And there it was.  I felt the burst, the rush of water as it completely took over my Titanic.  Suddenly, I felt nothing but complete panic.  Now what?  And then the details started to work themselves out.

I tried to pay attention, focus on what she was saying, I got most of it, but was very thankful that she was drawing everything out on a piece of pink paper.  It would become the breast cancer road map that would be hung on my refrigerator as a constant reminder of the year long battle ahead.  The lump in my breast because of it's 5cm size, was inoperable at that time so I would have to have chemo first.  The lymph node that they had biopsied did show signs of cancer.  That would have to be addressed as well.  She proposed 6 chemo therapy treatments followed by surgery.  And radiation after surgery.

As if all of the water on board wasn't enough to detail with at the time, more continued to rush.  I would need blood work, chest x-rays, heart tests, MRI's, and PET scans all in the next couple of weeks.  I needed to see the oncologist, the radiologist, and schedule myself for surgery to equip me with a port for my chemo therapy.  The water just kept coming.  It was heavy, and I couldn't get away from it.





Saturday, March 8, 2014

It's Just Like the Titanic...

I'm sure it sounds strange.  Odd even.  But I can explain.  The sinking of my Titanic started with a mammogram.  A mammogram that my gynecologist wanted me to have the same day that she felt the lump in my breast.  My very first mammogram at the age of 39- December 19, 2013. I will never forget what a beautiful day it was- the sun was shining and I kept thinking of how amazing it was for December weather.  I couldn't get an appointment that day, so I had to wait- 3 days. The more pictures they took, the more the wanted.  They kept shuffling me back and forth from the waiting room to the "picture room".  And with every trip back down that hallway, my anxiety got stronger.  By the time I had walked that hallway 3 times, I was shredding Kleenex all over the place.  (It wasn't my last trip down that hallway that day.)

Honestly, I already knew even before the mammogram- I had cancer. The fact that I left the gynecologists office with a referral to a breast surgeon in my hand didn't do anything to weaken my theory.  I had read enough online and done enough research I knew.  I knew that I hadn't felt good in months.  I just knew.  My husband insisted it was a cyst when he just about forced me to call and schedule an appointment.  He even told me that they would drain it the day I went to see my gynecologist.  I'm here to tell you, it didn't go down that way.

The mammogram was followed that same day by an ultrasound.  I strained my neck something fierce trying to get a glimpse of my breasts on the screen.  I kept asking the technician questions- questions she refused to answer.   Turned out I didn't need to do that.  There was a radiologist waiting to see me post ultrasound goop.  And there it was- the iceberg.  My butt hadn't even hit the chair when a women who was young enough to still have teenage acne just spit it right out.  "This is definitely cancer."   I was shocked, stunned, speechless even.  I just looked at her.  I still to this day have no idea what came after those 4 words, but she did continue to talk.  May I also say that her delivery of the worst news I've ever gotten sucked!  (And only backed up my theory that she was still old enough to have pimples.)

I would have had the surgeon on the phone that same day, but it was 5:00 when I left there, and frankly, between hearing the C word for the first time in conjunction with my body and the throbbing in my butt from it crashing to the chair, I really couldn't focus.  My first order of business the next morning (Friday) was calling the surgeons office.   They didn't have my films yet, so I had to wait for a call-back.  It didn't take long, I was told that I the surgeon was squeezing me in on Monday afternoon.... "Oh no!- the iceberg is getting closer!"

I was not brave enough to walk into a surgeons office by myself, but thankfully, I do have a very good friend who was brave enough to accompany me.  I was not happy to hear that my lump was going to require a biopsy, which had to be scheduled for another day- and because of the holiday, I was going to have to be left wondering about my lump.  The surgeon positively refused to commit to anything until she had done the biopsy.  Having a biopsy terrified me, I hate needles, with a passion and usually pass out when needles enter my body.  (Just another reason that there was no possible way that I could be a cancer patient!)

... To be continued.