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  Since the days we were both unpublished and critiquing each other's work, she has moved up in the world, making friends with some prominent authors, and publishing 2 of her books.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.

BANG! BIFF! KA-POW!

Beating Up Cancer

Overheard at chemo treatments the other day: a man telling (presumably) his wife something like: "I'm not going to worry about a few extra calories when I have CANCER!"

You just can't help but smile at the good attitude most people have at the Huntsman Hospital.  That place is so full of good cheer and hope.  If I have to go through this, I'm glad I can go through it there (even if I do have to drive 10 hours a week just to get there and back).

Gratitude

For those who haven't gone through chemo treatments, it conjures up images of hanging over the toilet and constantly lying in bed.  I know I thought that's what it would be like, before I was diagnosed.  But I have discovered that I am not, in fact, on death's doorstep.  Now that things have settled into a routine, and the shock is starting to wear off, life continues pretty much as normal (except for having to take a nap every day and traveling up north each week).  I can still handle laundry, meals, and even cleaning the house most of the time.  I feel really blessed, because I know that isn't the case with everyone who goes through cancer treatments.

Last night, I read through the blog of a woman who went through breast cancer just 2 years ago.  She had to endure a lot of difficulty with her chemo treatments: pain, and extreme fatigue, among other things.  I realized how easy I've got it.  There's no room for me to complain.  I don't know why I have less to endure than others--probably because I'm not as strong as they are, and I would break under the pressure--but I'm so glad the Lord has made my burden light.

Of course, that doesn't mean things won't get harder as we continue the fight against cancer.  (I am definitely NOT looking forward to surgery, but I just put it on the back burner of my mind and focus on the here and now.)  I'm grateful for the things I can still do.  I'm grateful to be with my kids as much as possible.  I'm grateful for the family members who've done so much to help and support us at this time, and for all the friends who have brought meals and been concerned for us.  It really helps, knowing that we are in so many prayers.  And those prayers are being answered!