The Day That Just Keeps Giving

Well, I'd hoped the scream would let out all of the negative juju from yesterday, but I don't have such luck. If I did, I'd be asleep right now instead of awake and running on three hours of sleep. My luck...one day there's going to be a phrase for it; similar to Murphy's Law or Bad Luck. It's going to be Steenie's Luck or something to that nature. I would say that it is really a lack of luck. And, I have a tendency to rub off on those around me, especially when said person is trying to do something that involves me in any way, shape or form. Yesterday/Today (It has been less than twenty-four hours.) was one of those days. Nothing seemed right, nothing was smooth sailing, and nothing went my way.

Yesterday, September 27th, was Chemo #4...the halfway point. I started the morning at 5:45am with a positive attitude and tried to keep it even with that sense of wrongness that lingered in the air telling me it would be better if I just went back to bed. I pushed through that, got Twin 2 (I really need some great code words for my family.) up for school and out the door. Twin 1 had an appointment that Daughter Solo was bringing him to, so he was blissfully enjoying the sleep while I got ready for my Chemo Day. I stood in the pretty vacant closet looking through my small amount of chemo clothes, tops with low front necks and a light jacket for the cooler building, and couldn't pick out a thing to wear. I've worn my same outfits time and time again and they are wearing down pretty quickly and I'm so tired of wearing the same four things. So, after I put on my usual outfit, I headed out the door to run to my favorite morning stop, my local Chick-Fil-A. After a quick in and out, I hit the road, weaving through morning traffic, and headed to my appointment.

Even checking in wasn't an easy process. There was an open lady, but she struggled to get her computer up and running to check me in for my appointments. So, I patiently waiting for the other lady to finish with the patient in front of me. After putting my arm band on, checking me in, and accepting my payment she attempted to print my receipt. Yes, attempted. Of course, the printer wasn't working properly (for me). She was able to print the receipt for the patient in front of me, and while we were waiting, the first check-in lady was able to print a receipt for the gentleman behind me. My lady told me that at least I was checked in, so I told her I was going to sit down and she could catch me on the other side. I entered the lab area pretty quickly, got my port accessed, and headed to the doctor's waiting area.
By the time I went to the restroom after checking in with the doctor's desk, the nurse was already calling back. Hey, things are looking up. Psssh, naive Steenie.

My eccentric oncologist entered the room, pushing his computer station, and started asking the usual questions. I started filling him in on the many symptoms that I had since my last chemo session. The two of us really are too much for each other and I feel that without my husband there, we have a hard time staying on task. That's a lie, haha. No, the two of us have a hard time staying on task anyway. We get the business done, but he has a tendency to go off subject with some strange things and I have a tendency to over share, talk fast, and ramble on excessively. So, between the two of us, it's a perfect relationship. Anyway, I told him about the usual side effects, realizing later that I missed a few. But, that happens and they were the less important side effects. While the discussion is going on, he looked down at his feet and snickered. The man had on two different shoes; very similar, yet different. So, of course, I had to share my story of showing up for soccer pictures as the coach wearing two sneakers. We talked a few minutes on the subject of his different shoes. He analyzed the differences (They really looked quite similar). One shoe was more of a casual sneaker; the other was a hiking shoe and had better support. Yet, they were both tan, suede-ish, brow-toed, and orange-trimmed. He had to wiggle his feet and walk a little. I'm still talking about my shoe adventure; both of us giggling. Yes, we really were meant to be together during this cancer thing; my husband leaving the room, shaking his head after every appointment.

Back on subject...my mind has a tendency to focus on the 'little' details, the things most people aren't concerned about. The following questions run down that line. I asked them in a pretty rapid fire manner, threw my doctor off completely, and had to repeat them slower so they could each be answered. My doctor must think I'm crazy with these weird questions. Psssh, Steenie Luck in effect.

Question #1. "On the second page of the weekly lab reports my glucose levels are high. Today was the highest. Does Chemo cause high glucose?" "No, but (There's always a "but".) the steroids can cause it to be high." Click, click, click. "Can you tell me what today's was, it'll take me a minute to get to that screen?" "Yes, let me grab my results." Hmm, guess I should have waited for him to finish from the last discussion. "It's a 179. I know the other weeks have been high, also." "I see. 134, 145, and today's 179 are the last three. I may need to put you on medication for it." "Okay, so, the medication can make it high. I was worried that I might need to watch for diabetes because it runs in my family." He gave me a dead stare. "I/It(sic) can push you into diabetes." Oh, f#ck!ng great. "Really?" "What did you eat this morning?" "My usual Friday Treat Myself Chick-Fil-A." "I wish you could check it every day. I'm curious (A favorite word of his.) to see what the levels are on non-appointment days." "Oh, I can do that. My mother-in-law has a tester that she is supposed to use regularly, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't." I wish she would take better care of herself. "I'll get it from her and check it."

Question #2. "Is it possible to get lymphedema on the side that didn't have lymph nodes removed?" I'm so ridiculous. Dead stare. "Yes, it is. It would be a very rare occurrence, but it's possible." Oh, sh!t. Can't I catch a break? Of course not, fool. You have Steenie Luck. I listed what I was experiencing and he frowned. "How do I watch for lymphedema?" "Measure your arms daily, keep a log, and watch for swelling." "Okay, I can do that. Also, did you see my bruise from last week's needle fun?" "Wow!" as he makes an ugly face." Let me look at all of your levels." Click, click, click. "Your levels have been high enough that I don't think we need to have weekly blood tests unless you start running a fever." "What?" I'm too shocked and in denial that I can have some of my Fridays open again. "What about my white cell count and my neutrophils?" "Even though they get low, they are high enough to not be a concern unless you run fever." Woohoo.

Question #3. "My allergist is concerned about my heart. I had an appointment to get my pulmonary test done and the results were great, even higher than expected. My lungs are great and my asthma is under control. I do have a cold, but everything is good. Everything is good, except my symptoms. I get out of breath just talking and walking short distances. My chest hurts when I lie down, feeling like a ton of bricks are on it, leaving me gasping for air. She believes I need to see a Cardiologist." "Well, that can all come from the chemo and is probably not something to worry about." "Good, so you don't think it's the Herceptin?" "I'm scheduling you for an Echo cardiogram just to be sure." Poo, he's just being optimistic. "Okay, great. Better safe than sorry." "Exactly, but I really think it's nothing." Doesn't he know me by now? Every one's last famous last words to me...I really think it's nothing.

Finally, I headed to chemo and got the poison pumping through my veins. But, where's my mother-in-law? The phone rang. She had some complications arise and was running late. This was delayed. This grandchild needed this. This grandchild needed that. Great, I've shared my Steenie's Luck. Lunch before I finish chemo is out now. New plan. I sent her to get Twin 1 to meet me at lunch after I finished my chemo. So, I sat through chemo without lunch. I'd turned Daughter Solo down for a brunch visit. Tis' the way of Steenie Luck. Finally, I made it to the restaurant around 1:30. I read in the car for a bit until my m-i-l called to tell me she was ten minutes out. She'd caught the long train (We have 30-60 minute long trains at times.) and was finally on her way. I went inside and ordered an appetizer. She and my son finally showed up and we ate lunch around 2:15. As I sat listening to my m-il's day, I couldn't help but feel bad that I'd spread my awful mojo to her. Her day was longer than mine. As we sat there, we realized that Twin 2 didn't have a key to get in the house and would be getting off the bus shortly. She rushed to the house with Twin 1. I headed to Target, because I had more refills (as always).

I spent forty minutes waiting for the refills to be ready while I browsed the Clearance aisles. Waited in line for the refills. Hugged the pharmacists. Got lectured by the pharmacists for being out and about. And, finally headed home in school traffic. Several bus stops later, I finally made it in the door at 4:15pm. It was a loooong day. Exhausted, I relayed my news to my sister and my husband; all of us feeling like I can't catch a break. This was the point when I posted yesterday's blog. AAAHHH!! That said it all.

Everything just keeps piling up and it's hard. So, insomnia hit last night and I didn't fall asleep until around 3am. I've been up since 530am with symptoms already flaring up and exhaustion setting in, too.
Not the way to start the post-chemo weeks. Since I'm awake, I figured I'd write a blog explaining my scream. I'll update some more in the next few days (if I'm up for it) because I still haven't told you all about Chemo #3. And, it was another doozy. Apparently, I get the privilege of experiencing something new with each treatment. But, that's another story for another day.

I leave you with this. A perfect dramatic illustration of my day and weeks.

Sometimes You Have to Let It All Out

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*

*Story to follow tomorrow. I AM okay.

The Eye of the Hurricane

Chemo is a lot like a hurricane. A hurricane takes a toll on everyone in its path. You prepare as much as you possibly can beforehand. You board up windows and doors as a barrier between you and the storm. You stock up on food and water to keep your health up during the storm and the aftermath. You stock up on batteries, candles, and flashlights so you can see your way through the darkness during the inevitable power outage. Have you prepared enough? Are you ready to ride this storm out? Worries and fears set in mixed with readiness and preparation; now, it is just a waiting game.

The hurricane hits and it is too late to change your mind. Should you have run? Should you have hidden? It is too late because you cannot leave now. For better or worse, you are in this. The wind and rain pound your barriers over and over and over again. Sometimes a window breaks and the wind and rain find the weak spot and attack. You try to patch it up and block it with another barrier. Sometimes it works, but sometimes the wind is too strong. So, you have retreat to another room with the barriers still in tact. If you are lucky, you stay safe and ride it out calmly. If you are not one of the lucky ones, you may have a tree break and fall on your shelter. Then, there is a big hole in your barrier. You just never know if you are going to be one of the safe ones or one of the ones who has to fight through the hurricane. 

Finally, the eye of the storm is upon you. A break in the storm. You step outside, dig deep, and find what you need around your house to fix and patch the holes. There is a calmness that sets in and it feels good. You have changed your strategy and strengthened your barrier and you are hopeful that you will survive. There is even a bit of sunshine to make you feel warm. You can exhale and breathe normal again for a moment. You are feeling rejuvenated and stronger. This is what you needed because your barrier was cracking and you were ready to give up. But, the peace and quiet from the eye only lasts a little while. Soon, the clouds start to spin again overhead, the wind picks up a little, and you realize that the second part of the storm is coming fast. It is time to go back inside, hunker down, and wait out the rest of the storm.

The second half of the hurricane is deceitful and tricky. It seems a bit calmer than the first half. It is less windy and you find yourself getting a little complacent. Maybe this is not so bad. But, for the unfortunate ones, it turns out to be silent, but deadly . During some hurricanes, the tide is high and the flood waters start to creep into your neighborhood. As the water rises, you have to change your plans or you will drown. You feel overwhelmed and scared, but you know you have to fight. You are one of the unlucky ones who has to fight for your survival with everything you have in your stockpile. You fight to keep the flood waters from breaking your barriers. The water keeps coming, but you fight to get to higher ground. You fight to survive. You fight to live. 

At last, the hurricane is over. The wind and rain are finally gone. The flood waters have receded. The animals are back; the birds are chirping. The sun shines like it never has before. You go outside, hold your arms out wide, and spin, just enjoying the moment. You assess the damage and see what is left. It is time to clean up the damage, pick up the pieces, and rebuild. There is a lot of hard work ahead of you, but that is okay. Why? Because, you made it. You survived. You lived. You are a survivor. You are alive and healthy. You beat the hurricane....and it feels great.

So, how does this relate to cancer and my chemo treatment? You just have to read my other blog entries to see that I have already survived the first part of the hurricane and did as much preparation as I could. Where am I now? Currently, I am in the eye of the storm. But, the clouds are coming back quickly and the winds are picking up. I'm not sure how the second half of the storm is going to affect me. I believe it will happen just like my little story above. I will have to fight hard, but I will get through it. And, I will spin with my arms open wide like nobody's business when this is over. But, like I said, for now I am in the eye of the hurricane.

The Eye of the Storm.

I was supposed to have chemo #3 on Friday, August 23rd. But, that did not happen. I was too sick with my bronchitis and the doctor ordered more fluids, antibiotics, steroids, and anti-nausea meds. As you might expect, he was pretty upset that he had not been informed of my condition. I had called repeatedly and was even in the building for blood work and no one did anything to help. No one returned my calls even though I left messages stating that my doctor wanted to be informed of any more sickness on my end. The day I went in for blood work, a nurse practitioner came out and told me there was nothing they could do and if I wasn't better, I needed to follow up with my general physician. So, my very angry oncologist (I'm sure the nurses got an ear full) gave me my fluids, etc., sent me home with directions to call him directly (on his personal cell) if I get worse, and postponed my chemo for two weeks.

These two weeks have seen me getting better slowly. I slowly got an appetite back, got my taste buds back, and stopped getting nauseous. My hair has even started to grow back during this break from chemo. I have more energy, less pain, and, I dare say, I almost feel well. But, here is the problem...this is just a tease. I feel better just in time (three days before) to begin chemo again. And, instead of being half way through, I am still only a third of the way through with the 'nasty' chemo. This has been a nice calm and my body definitely needed it. I am not sure that my mind needed it, though. There are positives and negatives about this lull. I was feeling pretty down and this gave me time to rebuild my inner strength. But, now I am worried about the fact that I still have over half of my treatment left and concerned about how horrible it is going to be if the first third was this bad. I don't know. 

All I do know is that I am as ready as I am going to be for the rest of this battle. We have changed tactics and plans and prepared differently for the next session. My oncologist is scheduling me to get fluids, anti-nausea meds, and steroids twice a week the first week after chemo. Hopefully, this will keep my nausea down to a minimum and allow me to actually function and not get so sick. I feel rested and stronger and ready to fight. This would not have happened without my bronchitis and this break. So, I go for Chemo #3 on Friday, September 6th. And, I am as ready as I can be for this second half. I am ready to fight, to head to higher ground, to survive. I am ready to live.