Round one

I was considering last week to be my last week of "normal" before I started my treatments for colon cancer. I tried to enjoy every day and make it special. I went to museums, out to lunch, shopping, and visited friends.I stopped by my office and even made it to a going away party for a colleague. It was great to see everyone! 

Sunday we had a mass for my dad and my uncle and then the whole family went out for lunch. It was crowded in the restaurant, but they had a patio and since it was a beautiful day, we all sat outside and enjoyed a marvelous lunch. 

Last year around this time we had the mass for them as well. It was right after my diagnosis of the breast cancer and it was the first time I saw my aunts and cousins. And as fate would have it again, Sunday was the first time I saw them all since diagnosis number II. No one really knows what to say and so no one said anything until we said good-bye and everyone wished me luck with big hugs and kisses. 

Monday I reported to the hospital for my treatment. The day had finally arrived and I had not slept a wink the two nights before. Even though I have been through chemo before the anxiety of not knowing what to expect from all the new drugs was just too much to bear.

I am on a regimen called FOLFOX which is standard treatment for stage III colon cancer. I am getting 4 different medications. Monday and Tuesday I go into the hospital for IV drips of medication and an IV push. Then they send me home with more chemotherapy in a pump that I have to wear for 22 hours. The pump has a slower drip so that the cells are exposed longer to the chemo. 

I did not like the idea of being sent home with chemotherapy, but people do it all of the time. I have a toll-free number to call if the  pump malfunctions. I have bio-hazard bags in case there is a spill (which the nurse said has never happened, much to my relief!) It is cumbersome and annoying and it is tricky to shower without getting it wet, so I needed to have a hand held shower.

One of the side effects to one of the meds is a cold sensitivity, because the medication effects the nerve endings. This means I cannot drink cold drinks or  have cold food nor touch cold objects. I need to wear gloves to take things out of the refrigerator.  Some people don't get the sensitivity, some have it only a few days and some have it the whole time. I have been very careful so I don't really know if I have it or not. 

If you drink something cold, you feel like your throat is constricting and you feel like you can't breathe. So I am only drinking room temperature liquids because I don't want to find out what that feels like at all!!! I wash my hands in warm water and I wear gloves when I open the refrigerator, so far I have not felt anything because I am taking all precautions.

Today is day 3 and my pump should be done by noon. Then I head over to the hospital and they take off the pump and de-access my port and round 1 will be done leaving 11 more to go. 

Then I wait and see what other side effects might come over me. 

I am supposed to go back to work on Monday and I have no idea what to do. I have to say that being home for one month makes it hard to want to go back even though most of the time I was home I was recuperating.  But I just have to wait and see how I feel by Monday and then make a decision. I can extend my family leave time if I need to. 

So up ward and onward!

Good energy

With all of the medical appointments I have been going to, I never made it for my post-chemo dental appointment. Some of you may know that when you are having chemotherapy you are not allowed to have dental work done due to the risk of infection. So I realized I needed to get in to see the dentist for not only my post chemo appointment, but also a pre-chemo appointment before the new rounds begin.

My dentist's office was really good and squeezed me into a cancellation the very next day. I was seeing a different hygienist, but that was fine as long as they could take me. So I had to update her on my medical history. Anytime I tell the story of still being in treatment for breast cancer and going in soon for colon cancer treatments, people just stop in their tracks and look at me. They don't know what to say after,"I am so sorry." There is nothing to say so I just try to move the conversation along. So Alison and I got along well chit chatting in-between rinses like you do when you are getting your teeth cleaned.

When we were all done she called the dentist to come in and check my teeth. The dentist comes into the room in a great mood and says, "So what is the good news in here?" The dental hygienist and I look at each other. I say laughingly, "Well, there is NO good news in here." The hygienist quickly tells the dentist I am there for a pre-chemo cleaning and I interjected the rest of the story.

The dentist's smiling face quickly turns to a look of concern and then she addresses me. She said, " I could hear you two laughing and talking during the appointment. I could feel such good energy. And I come in and find out what you are dealing with. I can't believe it. Usually I walk in to see a patient and sense negative energy and all they do is complain and it is all about nothing. You are amazing and I am sure your attitude will help you get through this." 

Little did I know she was over hearing us during the hour appointment and it made me feel good that she sensed good energy from me. I know I will only make it easier on myself if I stay as upbeat as I can, but it isn't easy. And I still allow for time to be sad and mad and wanting to get God on the phone right this minute!! The praying and meditating is taking too long to give me the answers I want! 

So I take in her compliment and allow it to make me feel good, really good. Every little thing that makes me feel good matters to me in a big way now.

So the two of them were standing there as I was getting up to leave. They didn't  quite know what to say, but I did. I said, "One day at a time, one foot in front of the other, chin up and all that jazz." 

I know my cliches!

It's not fair

I had a week to have it sink in that I needed chemotherapy again before I sat down with my oncologist. It was hard at first to take it in especially because there was such a good chance that all I needed would be the surgery to remove the tumor. I believed I would be OK and I had hundreds of people praying for me. 

So I moped around some at home and stayed as up beat as I could with friends and family. I have been through chemo before, I did pretty well, I know what to expect, I should be able to do this. I hoped that the number of rounds might be even less for this time around. I was the master of self positive talk all week.

Everything I hoped and prayed for went out the window during this appointment. First they called and said he wanted me to come at a different time so he could spend a longer time with me. Red flag. I cringed a little when the receptionist said that to me. Longer time? Why? I just want to know how many rounds, it should not take that long. Oh, dear.. I am going to get a curve ball. I can feel it.

So he comes in and tells me that I will need chemo. He didn't realize the surgeon told me already. He asked lots of questions about family history. There is no history of colon cancer in my family. I am the first one.  They want to do genetic testing. At first I cringe thinking more tests for me. But all they do is test the tumor.

The oncologist proceeds to tell me that I have stage III colon cancer (not early stage as the G.I. doctor thought.) I am going to need 12 cycles of chemo, every 2 weeks, for 6 months. Gulp. The side effects of the chemotherapy are a lot more intense than I had with the other chemotherapy. (Twice as many rounds as I had with the chemo for the breast cancer.)  I will need 3 days in the row to go into the hospital and have infusions then wear a pump at home over night for 2 nights.

He would give me the information a bit at a time, very slowly and calculated looking straight into my eyes. I sat up straighter and did not flinch. I saw no reason to say anything. In these situations there is nothing to be said. I could not wheel and deal my way out of it, I was backed up into a corner and the only way out is to submit. "I understand I have to suck this up," I said.  He looked at me and said, "It isn't fair. I hated coming in here to tell you this news. Usually it is the patient who says it isn't fair, and here I am telling you it isn't fair."

I don't think it is fair either, but stating it doesn't change a thing.