What Chemo Looks Like

Ah, here they are. The supportive parents. This is what I happily see every round of chemo. Blog World, meet Mimi and Bill. World's best parents. They leave their very full life to drive 3 hours every two weeks to stay with me for 4 days to be sure all goes well. And it does.

This round went well. Last night I just felt really FULL. Of food, water, oral anti-nausea drugs and IV after IV of chemo drugs. Today I feel remarkably well, but I know after a couple of days go by I won't be able to remember the details of today... or tomorrow... or the next day.

I am now officially half way done with chemo, and completely done with the Adriamycin/Cytoxan blend. Next time it will be Taxol, with an entirely different set of side effects and many more steroids and much Benadryl in order to tolerate it.

Here's what my parents see:

You can tell I've had my anti-nausea drugs because my eyes look a little glassy. You can also see what it looks like when they access my port, down on my chest. The little tube coming out allows the nurse to both draw blood AND deliver all my IV drugs. Pretty amazing. I have a tube of lidocaine cream that I use to numb the port site up about an hour before my appointment. I always grimace when they insert the needle, but honestly, I never feel a thing!

Needles!

I truly think that acupuncture has made a difference in how I feel between chemo treatments. Props to my neighbor Marcia at Different Drummer Acupuncture for a job well done!

For those of you who haven't had acupuncture before, rest assured that I am one of the all-time biggest needle woosies in the world. These needles are teeny tiny, and at most hurt just for a second or two. Once they're in, you can't feel anything but energy. I often fall asleep! What I know for sure is that my stomach feels better, food moves through my system better, and that I need fewer drugs to combat my side effects.

This picture was the first time I had needles in my face (for my sinuses and eyes, which have been bothering me). My usual treatment does involve needles in my scalp (helps with clarity) but also in my stomach and legs/feet for things like liver, kidneys and spleen. Cool, huh?

It's nice that there is something involving needles that turns out to be a really good thing.

Letting it Out

Tonight was a first.

Walking up the hill from the park at about 8:30 tonight, after working nearly a full day, taking my son to drum lessons and then spending an hour sitting at the pool while the kids had a swim, I started crying.

Why?

I can't keep up.

I am probably harder on myself than anyone could ever be. I know I'm in cancer treatment. I know to expect fatigue, nausea, etc. Yet when it hits it pisses me off. I don't have time to feel like crap. I'm a mom for God's sake, and I do NOT want this treatment to impact my ability to act like a mom. Especially in the summer.

The thing is, the kids are so good. "Go ahead and cry Mom," JJ said on the way home from the park. "Go ahead and get it out." Annie held my hand and rubbed my arm and said "it's okay" over and over. Damn it. My children shouldn't have to be dealing with this. They should be eating popsicles, riding bikes and shooting hoops until it's too dark to see. They should have a mom who can stay up until it's dark out so that I can yell at them to come inside. Right now they are downstairs watching tv and I know I won't even have to ask them to be in bed by 10:00. They'll do it. I am the one in bed early, Ativan swallowed, ready for unconsciousness. I'm worn out.

Tomorrow I'll do it all again. This is going to be a long summer.

Little Pleasures

Sometimes it's the little things in life. Sitting in the shade in my backyard on an 85 degree day: reading a good book, drinking sweet iced tea (okay, so it did give me heartburn later, but at that moment it was perfect) and watching the sun light up a sprinkler.

And then there is this:

Planet Unicorn

I have nothing else to say. Except maybe Heyyyyyy!

Lost Daze

One of my friends recently commented that I don't write when I'm not feeling good. I think she meant that I don't write right after chemo. She looks for updates to how I'm feeling and they aren't there. Or here. It isn't that I'm not feeling good (relatively speaking.) It's that my brain is completely and totally empty.

I swear they put a knock-out drug in the chemo mix.

I have only a vague recollection of the last several days. My parents, as usual, came to town to accompany me to my Thursday appointment. It went without a hitch. The big excitement was a REALLY good CBC, with nice, high white blood cell counts. Woohoo the thrills. Came home with an appetite although I couldn't begin to tell you what I ate.

Friday there was some gratuitous TJ Maxx shopping followed by a late afternoon Neulasta shot. I think I purchased some housewares. I'm sure some napping happened.

Saturday was the Miniature Railroads in the Garden tour (it was Father's Day weekend after all, so Dad had to have some fun) followed by a trip to Target where again, I bought a few things. Not sure what though.

Are you sensing a theme? It's a REALLY good thing my parents are around post-chemo to make sure I don't do anything more stupid than unplanned retailing. Geez, it's like being 15 again! I did manage to make my Dad a Father's Day breakfast before going horizontal and napping Sunday away (between hot flashes.)

What I do know for sure is that it is an incredible gift and comfort to have my parents here for the big anti-nausea drug fest daze that follows every chemo appointment. Everybody going through cancer treatment should be so lucky.

And today I worked almost the entire day. Not at 100% brain power but good enough. The lost daze, this time around, is just about over.

Five more chemos to go... I'm almost halfway there!

Psych

I know you are all dying to know exactly what I do on chemo day:

Get the kids to school
Check work email
Clean the kitchen thoroughly
Make sure the backlog of laundry is done
Tidy up the the house
Swiffer the dog hair
Grocery shop (making sure to replenish the wine... have to keep my caregivers happy!)
Eat!
Run last minute errands

and psych up, once again, for the drug invasion that comes this afternoon.

It's the psyching up that is the real task of the day. I've said it before and I'll say it again: it goes against everything we are as living beings to voluntarily poison ourselves. It's just plain wrong.

However, I'm doing it and I'll keep on doing it because I plan on being here another 30 or 40 or 50 years. It is what one does. Soldier On. Stiff Upper Lip and all that. My eye is on the prize: August 24 - last chemo.

Say my mantra along with me if you will "I am walking through my treatments with grace and ease. I am walking through my treatments with grace and ease. I am walking through my treatments with grace and ease."

Here I go! I'm psyched!

Being Supported

Tonight I took a deep breath and attended my first ever support group: the Young Survivors Coalition monthly meeting. Whew. Walking up to a new group is never easy, but this is a club I definitely belong to, and I might as well accept the myriad of resources that are offered.

Here's what I learned:

Hair grows back and life goes on.

I also realized, really for the first time, that even though the hair DOES grow back and life does go on, the breast cancer stuff doesn't go away. Not really ever, potentially. So you get to LOOK like you're normal again, and relatively quickly, but there are still things to deal with. Stuff I don't know much about yet. Tumor markers, hormone therapy, ovary removal, bone density tests. Maybe even a hysterectomy. Phew! Too much to even think about right now, while I'm in the midst of chemo.

The nice thing about tonight is that I liked these women and will look forward to getting together again next month. The woman I was sitting next to turned out to be a neighbor. We exchanged phone numbers. She has hair again, and gave me some of her scarves. So maybe I will make a new friend from this as well.

Also on the theme of being supported, after a week of company, my lovely houseguests finally departed. Katie dubbed it Estrogen Fest 2007 and it was absolutely wonderful. I loved coming home from work and having Claudia and Katie here. Especially when I had a few days of walking in the door and bursting into tears (oh how I love steroid rebound!) It was really nice to have the company. Any time ladies... 'mon back! I refuse to believe that Katie won't visit from Amsterdam for a year (sniff sniff) and I am holding Claudia's car hostage, so I KNOW she'll have to come back.

I am a lucky woman. Not everyone has so much support. I do. And it matters.

What Not To Say

What is it with people feeling like they can make comments about my head? Here is the appropriate thing to say to a woman with no hair: "You look beautiful."

That's it.

Don't tell me I look like Rhoda in my funky scarf, or that I'll look butch when it grows back (like this is a goal?), or that I must be having so much fun with wigs and scarves. Yeah, right. Don't tell me "it's just hair" and it will grow back. I can say that, but you can't. Don't tell me my head is nice and round. I really didn't want to know. I truly could have gone my entire life not knowing what I look like bald. Don't tell me that I'm saving all kinds of time not having to do hair. Really? Do you have any idea how long it takes to figure out how to tie a scarf so it will stay there all day?

My poor head has been through an awful lot this last week. The buzz cut was a good thing, and I felt pretty cool rocking the #1. As it continued to fall out, and fall all over me and everything in my path, however, it had to be shaved completely and that isn't quite as much fun. To begin with, my scalp is lily white with a 5 o'clock shadow. It hurts. It's cold all the time. I have to sleep in a buff to keep my noggin warm. Getting ready for work now has an entirely new normal requiring that I choose my HEADWEAR first, and the outfit second. Wasn't expecting this!

I've probably spent close to $350 on various coverings for my head, and so far nothing I put on makes me feel like me. That's the real issue. I feel like I'm in an unending theatrical production, playing the role of Cancer Patient. How do I look like LeeAnne while I'm wearing something on my head that I never would have chosen pre-hair loss? I don't know. I'll figure it out, but in the meantime, just tell me I look good and leave it at that.

God Bless all of you who are loving me through this crankiness. I know everyone has the best of intentions but I needed to vent. Whine over. For now.

Chemo 2 and other stuff

Just a quickie here - chemo 2 went just fine and I feel pretty good. Tomorrow and Sunday will be my napping days. Went for a walk today, got my Neulasta shot and had a short nap. All in all pretty good. Got some new drugs that help a lot with appetite so that will also help in the long run. I won't be so weak if I can eat well every day.

The very short hair I have left is pulling out easier and easier but I'm leaving it alone so I don't get bald spots until they're inevitable! Then I think it will be time for a full shave. I've not worn anything on my head out in public so far and I kind of really like how the buzz cut looks, all things considered! I also really like the fact that I'm so photosensitive that it only takes me 5 minutes to be tan! Really, what more can a girl ask for than happy hair and a suntan, neither of which take any time whatsoever to maintain??