Being On the Receiving End

This week, as we drove into town from the latest treatment, we noticed a car wash going on at the Visitor's Center, with lots of kids and teens hosing down cars and waving signs to flag down more customers.  Their signs proclaimed they were the "Service Club."

We hadn't been home long (I was exhausted) when we got a call from our sister-in-law.  She wanted to ensure we were here, and warn us we'd soon have visitors.  Sure enough, after awhile, the kids ecstatically informed us (and half the neighborhood) that a lot of cars and people were coming to our house.  I nearly ran out the back door to hide.

Instead, I braved the crowd on our front porch.  I recognized them as the group we'd passed earlier, running the car wash.  They handed me a fat envelope.  When I opened it and saw the wad of cash inside, I burst into tears.  As one of their adult leaders explained, they'd just formed a service club for kids in our community, and decided to make me and my family their first project. I was deeply touched.

I've always tried to be an independent person, so being on the receiving end of service doesn't come naturally.  If I know someone else needs help, I jump in without hesitation; but I'm not so good at asking for help when I need it.  I find it very difficult to admit to others that everything is not so hunky-dory as I make it seem.

Steve and I constantly get the question: "How are you doing?"  My standard reply is: "Fine. I'm handling the treatments really well."  I like to pretend that my life is still pretty normal.  But reality has a way of bursting my bubble every so often.  Even though I've had it relatively easy so far, this battle takes its toll on my morale.  There are days when I feel that my battle with cancer is slowly stripping me down to nothing--when I realize that my life will never be the same again--and I mourn.

That's why I'm so grateful for sensitive friends and family.  They brighten my day by diving in and doing things for me, often without being asked, because they know I need help . . . even if I stubbornly refuse to admit it.

So, this shout-out goes to all the people who have brought in meals, watched my kids, given me a home during treatment days, dropped off flowers, washed cars for me, quilted for me (a mysteriously anonymous group), and told me I look like a movie star in my wig when I feel like a circus sideshow.  You guys are all awesome--and I am so grateful for each one of you!

Vacation

For the first time, the nurse had some trouble last Monday with my port.  I guess it was clogged or something.  After flushing it with saline several times, he finally got it working.  So, that was a little out of the usual routine.

I only have 1 more treatment of abraxane left, then I switch to a different drug for 4 three-week treatments.  That means I'm almost halfway through chemo.  Hurray!

I haven't written anything for awhile because I've been away from home for a week and a half.  We decided to stay with my parents for the week between 2 treatments and get "2 for the price of 1."  All the kids are out of school now, so we also had the whole crew with us. 

To keep everyone sane, I planned a simple activity each day that would get us out of the house, but not be too exhausting for me.  It was a fun week, and I found myself actually forgetting, at times, that I have cancer.  Here's some highlights:

Feeding the only duck on the pond.  He wasn't very hungry.

The fancy studios at the new KBYU building we toured.  I used to run one of those cameras for real!

The whole gang at the Bean Museum...being charged by an elephant? ;-)

All the kids were enchanted to meet Hedwig (Harry Potter's pet) at the museum!

Eating ice cream at the BYU Creamery--YUM YUM!

Touching animal furs at a "mini" Mountain Man Rendezvous.

You Will Be Assimilated

When I got my "port" put in--which is a device surgically placed under my skin that allows easy access to my veins--I joked that I felt like a Borg, from the Star Trek series.  Having the port is lots easier than getting an IV each time.  I feel like I get plugged into the "collective" every week.  The other day, someone asked me when I would post a picture of my bald head on here.  Well, here it is.  And now that you've seen it, watch out--because the Borg like to "assimilate" everyone they come in contact with! ;-)

This week, Steve is still recovering from his surgery, so my sister-in-law took time out of her own busy life to drive me up to treatments.  Here at home, the Relief Society took care of my family with more food than we can eat in about a month--so we're sitting pretty for awhile.  I'm so amazed and grateful for all the support and help we've gotten--and are still getting--from our family and friends.  You've all been fantastic!

I met with my oncologist Monday and found out the plan for my summer.  I have 3 more weekly treatments, and then I will change to a different chemo medicine.  I'll only have to get it every 3 weeks, but it's a stronger medicine and I may have more trouble with symptoms.  A huge relief to me is that my kids are out of school now, so we'll be able to take them on our treatment trips this summer (or am I really assimilating them?....hmmmm).

When It Rains, It Pours

Whenever I start to feel sorry for myself, the Lord snaps me out of it by sending me someone who needs help.  This time, it was my own husband.

The night before my last treatment, Steve woke with terrible pain in his abdomen.  I took him to the emergency room, and we eventually discovered that he has gallstones.  This means he will need surgery to remove his gallbladder.  Fortunately, the pain has subsided for now.  He's scheduled for surgery tomorrow morning here at home.

Our roles are reversed, as I drive him to doctor appointments and hospitals.  I'm grateful, once again, that I don't have any difficult chemo symptoms, because it's my turn to be the strong one and take care of him, for a change.

Endurance

A great middle grade book for girls!

This week, right before I went in for a treatment, I had the opportunity to have lunch with an author friend I haven't seen for awhile.  Since the days we were both unpublished and critiquing each other's work, she has moved up in the world, making friends with some prominent authors, and publishing 2 of her books.

Sometimes, I feel like cancer has brought my life to a screeching halt.  When I first got diagnosed, I thought I'd have all kinds of time to write.  But it seems all I do is twiddle my thumbs and wait for the next treatment.  Finding the energy to be creative is like drawing water from a dry well: I haven't come up with much.  That gets frustrating for me.

But, I remind myself that my priority right now is to be here as much as possible with my family, and to patiently endure this trial.  Someone shared a scripture with me in Mosiah 3:19 about putting off the natural man, ". . . willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father."  And so, I've been trying to cheerfully (for the most part) endure; after all, Heavenly Father knows what's best for me.  I truly believe that good will come of this trial!

My author friend remarked that right now, she's planting seeds with her book, sprinkling them wherever she can in the hopes that one day at least one will grow into a tree.  I really liked that analogy.  I haven't planted many of my own "author seeds," but perhaps next year, when cancer is behind me, I can begin to sow.  In the meantime, I can help her out and plant a few seeds for her.  I genuinely enjoy her writing, and I want to see her be successful.

Really, I guess that's what the Lord wants for us, as well.  And if it takes a bout with cancer to make me into the person He wants me to be, well--I'll swallow that castor oil and make the best of it.

The Hair Saga

I know all I ever write about is my hair . . . or the lack thereof.  But, it's the only visible side effect I've had from chemo thus far (other than being tired, and what can you say about that?).  So, here's the next chapter in the Hair Saga:

It finds our heroine (that would be me), completely and utterly LOSING IT!  Yes, folks, I have no hair on my head anymore . . . well, very little, anyway.  It hasn't all fallen out, but it was getting obnoxious to find hair everywhere when I showered, even my short "buzzed" hair.  Plus, my head was sore and the short wiry hair I had made it hurt worse.  So, about 2 weeks ago, I asked Steve to shave it off.

We quickly found out why my head hurt: it was covered in little sores.  I looked like the victim of a small pox epidemic.  When I contacted the doctor about it, he put me on an antibiotic.

The problem is called folliculitis.  It occurs when your hair falls out and the hair follicles get infected.  After the doctor examined it this week, he didn't seem to think it was too bad, so we'll wait and see if it clears up.

In the meantime, it doesn't bother me much--it just looks horrible.  But, hey, who am I trying to impress with a bald head anyway?  Captain Decker? (From the first Star Trek movie.)  I haven't even let my kids see me with a bare head since I shaved it.  Some things are just better kept under wraps.

Rewind

I started this blog after I began cancer treatments, so I did not do a post about my first treatment.  Since it was a doozy, I thought I'd rewind and relay what happened.

I get two kinds of chemo medicines when I get treatments.  At the time, I was also getting "pre-meds," which consisted of medicines to help me handle the side effects of the chemo medicines.  One was Benadryl, which made me very groggy, but that first time I fought off the sleepiness and stayed awake, though I found my eyes wouldn't focus well enough to read.  So, I watched a movie on my ipod.

Anyway, the first chemo medicine they gave me was Herceptin.  That went in with no problem.  The second medicine was Paclitaxal, or "Taxol" for short.  This second medicine is known to cause an allergic reaction in some patients, which is why I got the Benadryl.  So, as soon as they started the medicine they warned me to let them know if anything happened. 

It didn't take long.  I was watching a movie, and suddenly knew something was wrong.  I looked up at Steve with what must have been a frightened expression, and then everything inside me started to squeeze tight.  I could hardly breathe, and I told Steve I thought I was going to throw up.  While he searched frantically for a bucket, I managed to press the nurse's call button.

Suddenly, I was surrounded by what seemed like every nurse in the place.  They turned off the Taxol, layed me way back in my chair, and got an oxygen mask on me.  I guess I was pretty purple.  One nurse said later she was a hair's breadth away from slapping me with an EpiPen.

My symptoms quickly subsided, without the Taxol being pumped into me.  When a nurse asked me where I was--to verify my coherency--I replied, "In the infusion center."  They all laughed, because they'd expected me to say something more general, like "The Hunstman Hospital."

One nurse told me they usually try to give Taxol again, if someone has an allergic reaction, which about gave me another attack right then and there.  But, lucky for me, my doctor decided my allergic reaction was strong enough that they didn't need to try giving the Taxol again.

So, I only got one type of chemo medicine that week, and the week didn't count toward the 12 treatments I get for my first round.  The following week, I got a new medicine in place of the Taxol: Abraxane. 

This medicine has worked really well, in the last 6 weeks I've had it.  There are no allergies to it and it has fewer side effects than the Taxol: for example, you don't have stomach problems.  Also, my doctor was able to take me off the "pre-meds" a couple of treatments ago, so I actually get to be awake now for the whole treatment, and it goes a lot faster (it only took 1 1/2 hours last time).

So, even though having that allergic reaction was a traumatic experience, I feel like it was a blessing in disguise.  From what I understand, doctors won't give Abraxane first, because the Abraxane is so expensive insurance companies won't cover it unless a patient is allergic to Taxol; yet, the Abraxane is tolerated much better by patients and creates fewer side effects.  (It has to do with the medium in which the medicine is delivered: the medicine itself is the same.) 

In the midst of this trial, the Lord is looking out for me.