The last infusion is completed. I have new armor against the orc wars--we're tapering off my steroids. They will probably make me retain water even more but I have things I need to attend this weekend--including a funeral for my sister-in-law, so anything I can do to keep down the pain level and survive the things I need to do will help.
Meeting with the radiation oncologist tomorrow--I should be able to make plans for the next few months once I know what that schedule will look like. But as my former pastor and I used to say, "We make plans and God laughs." Still, I like to maintain a little control.
xxooxx
Showing posts with label Chemo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chemo. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Chemo Five
Well, I was going to download my pictures from Canada and post them tonight. That would be one of the best laid plans of mice and men ganging aglee. The camera keeps shutting off when I try to access it. It may be the batteries, so I'll get some new ones and try again tomorrow. I'm not overly happy about that, but thems the breaks, as a co-worker of Lee's used to say.
Chemo went fine today. I can't believe it's the fifth one already and the last one is just around the corner. Fortunately the block that corner is on includes the Sonoma Mission Inn and Spa. Before I get there, I have to survive the orc wars and walk in the survivors lap in the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life--hopefully the orcs will have retreated by then.
So what have I been doing lately. Monday was my annual eye exam. Something in my life is going right--no changes, no glaucoma, no Macular degeneration, no cataracts--yet. Have a good life and we'll see you next year.
Went downtown to see my therapist yesterday. I was feeling much better than I did two weeks ago. After the visit, I walked to the San Francisco Center, where I bought some more books--started on the Sue Grafton series, finally. Also went to Nordstrom where I couldn't find any clothes that I really wanted but did get some makeup--my eyebrows have been steadily thinning, so I got brow makeup to enhance them. My hair is still coming out, but not as much and now in inch or less long strands that are hard to pick up--so I'm just shedding.
Sorry about the pictures. I'll see what I can do about them tomorrow while I'm still feeling fairly good. I'm also hoping to make a run to the office to show the guys I'm still alive. Once I start radiation, I'll see if I'm up to maybe four hours a day. I need to get back to work before they figure out that they can get along perfectly well without me--if they haven't already. I miss my spreadsheets and fighting with vendors--er--setting vendors straight.
xxooxx
Chemo went fine today. I can't believe it's the fifth one already and the last one is just around the corner. Fortunately the block that corner is on includes the Sonoma Mission Inn and Spa. Before I get there, I have to survive the orc wars and walk in the survivors lap in the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life--hopefully the orcs will have retreated by then.
So what have I been doing lately. Monday was my annual eye exam. Something in my life is going right--no changes, no glaucoma, no Macular degeneration, no cataracts--yet. Have a good life and we'll see you next year.
Went downtown to see my therapist yesterday. I was feeling much better than I did two weeks ago. After the visit, I walked to the San Francisco Center, where I bought some more books--started on the Sue Grafton series, finally. Also went to Nordstrom where I couldn't find any clothes that I really wanted but did get some makeup--my eyebrows have been steadily thinning, so I got brow makeup to enhance them. My hair is still coming out, but not as much and now in inch or less long strands that are hard to pick up--so I'm just shedding.
Sorry about the pictures. I'll see what I can do about them tomorrow while I'm still feeling fairly good. I'm also hoping to make a run to the office to show the guys I'm still alive. Once I start radiation, I'll see if I'm up to maybe four hours a day. I need to get back to work before they figure out that they can get along perfectly well without me--if they haven't already. I miss my spreadsheets and fighting with vendors--er--setting vendors straight.
xxooxx
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Fourth Chemo and THE WOUND
Fourth chemo today--yeah--only two more to go. Of course, I still will have the orcs to deal with. I keep trying new tricks on them. God bless Glenn. He takes me there, stays with me, makes the lunch run, and brings me home. It's got to be really boring for him, but he does it.
Now, for THE WOUND--it has closed, from the bottom up. The Visiting nurses discharged me on Monday and my Plastic Surgeon checked it today. We're done! It looks kind of funny--like I have two belly buttons or something. My plastic Surgeon said to see him after I'm finished with chemo and radiation and he'll see what he can do. But I'm done--it's finished. I can take a bath. I can shower whenever I want to, not just half an hour before the nurse gets here! It's been almost three months of poking, prodding, packing, draining, reopening when the top was closing faster than the inside, and scheduling my life around the nurse's visits. It is so liberating to be wearing no bandages. It is a small victory, but a victory all the same. Maybe that is the joy of this whole proposition--finding small victories to rejoice in and celebrate. Now I have to check my calendar to see when I can go to the Sonoma Mission Inn and Spa. It has been WAY too long.
xxooxx
Now, for THE WOUND--it has closed, from the bottom up. The Visiting nurses discharged me on Monday and my Plastic Surgeon checked it today. We're done! It looks kind of funny--like I have two belly buttons or something. My plastic Surgeon said to see him after I'm finished with chemo and radiation and he'll see what he can do. But I'm done--it's finished. I can take a bath. I can shower whenever I want to, not just half an hour before the nurse gets here! It's been almost three months of poking, prodding, packing, draining, reopening when the top was closing faster than the inside, and scheduling my life around the nurse's visits. It is so liberating to be wearing no bandages. It is a small victory, but a victory all the same. Maybe that is the joy of this whole proposition--finding small victories to rejoice in and celebrate. Now I have to check my calendar to see when I can go to the Sonoma Mission Inn and Spa. It has been WAY too long.
xxooxx
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Friends
I've hear people say that they have many acquaintances but few friends. I never understood that. I have few acquaintances but many friends. If I've met you, chances are I consider you my friend unless you prove to me otherwise. And if you are my friend, you are my friend for life. Some people don't realize until it is too late how many friends they really have. I am not one of them. I count my friends as blessings and they are beyond count.
When Lee got sick, or rather, progressively sicker, our friends gathered round like covered wagons circling and protecting us. When Lee died, I was enveloped and sustained on a cloud of friendship. I was making a new normal, always with friends at the ready to support me should I slip. I was doing OK. I was trying new things. Then--BAM--out of nowhere--well, not really nowhere, more like my pelvic cavity--came the word cancer. I've walked that road with other friends, lost many friends, but never expected to have it applied to me as anything other than my astrological sign. Even now, three and a half months later, I still sometimes say "I have WHAT?"
Ultimately, it is a journey I have to take alone. I'm the one getting the chemo, I'll be the one getting the radiation, I'm the one who lost the hair (and I'm the one who gets the fun of the CP's). I'm the one all this is happening to, but my friends would be under my skin experiencing it with me if it were possible. They check up on me, they pray for me, they nudge me when necessary, they let me know I am not alone in this lonely place. They let me weep and they dry my tears. There is no shame in weeping.
Even as a little girl (and yes, I really was a little girl at one time--sturdy, but a little girl all the same), I always had at least one really good friend. In Junior High School, that all changed. I had a group of friends. And now, almost a million years later, I still have most of that group. Kris, Roz, Annie, and I just about go back to the flood. Our lives have taken surprising twists. I don't imagine any of us are doing what we thought we would be doing back in the 9th grade when we were terrorizing Mr. Felker (he loved it), but we're still friends. Kris just happened to e-mail me just after I started my first tenure at Peninsula Hospital. Thanks to my Nokia 9300, I e-mailed her back. Next thing I knew, she had plane and hotel reservations and was up checking on me. When she walked into that hospital room, it was 1962 again. I had never seen anyone so beautiful. The next day, she hooked up with Roz and brought her over to visit. Annie called from Missouri. They are still calling and checking on me. They know when I'm down and when I need them. Roz is a poet and expresses herself in amazing ways. I'm just beginning to realize it. Kris wants her to publish--I do too. Dear friends, if you are reading this, I still love you with the passion of a 14-year-old and the experience of a 60-year old, and I hope we're still talking about Mabel's diamond when we are 100.
Last night, I had a visit from relatively new (for me) friends. Steve, from work, brought his dog, whose name is supposed to be Beau but I've called Furball from the first time I met him. Steve hired me when I thought I had no skills outside of knowing everything there was to know about telephone bills, and over almost six years now has come to be a special person in my life. I frequently remind him that I'm old enough to have been his babysitter (I wasn't but could have been). I've always been afraid of dogs to some degree or another, but Furball is just a big love bug. Furball knows when I'm down and makes me feel better. So thank you, Steve and Furball, for the visit and the friendship.
Now if I haven't named you specifically, it doesn't mean that you aren't still my friend and I don't love and care about you and don't consider you a vital part of the mosaic of my life. Here's the other thing about my friends. I don't let them go. No matter the distance or the time, I will remember you and care about you--possibly remember your birthday and your children and their birthdays--and count you as an important foundation of my life and a blessing beyond measure. If I haven't told you lately, I love you.
When Lee got sick, or rather, progressively sicker, our friends gathered round like covered wagons circling and protecting us. When Lee died, I was enveloped and sustained on a cloud of friendship. I was making a new normal, always with friends at the ready to support me should I slip. I was doing OK. I was trying new things. Then--BAM--out of nowhere--well, not really nowhere, more like my pelvic cavity--came the word cancer. I've walked that road with other friends, lost many friends, but never expected to have it applied to me as anything other than my astrological sign. Even now, three and a half months later, I still sometimes say "I have WHAT?"
Ultimately, it is a journey I have to take alone. I'm the one getting the chemo, I'll be the one getting the radiation, I'm the one who lost the hair (and I'm the one who gets the fun of the CP's). I'm the one all this is happening to, but my friends would be under my skin experiencing it with me if it were possible. They check up on me, they pray for me, they nudge me when necessary, they let me know I am not alone in this lonely place. They let me weep and they dry my tears. There is no shame in weeping.
Even as a little girl (and yes, I really was a little girl at one time--sturdy, but a little girl all the same), I always had at least one really good friend. In Junior High School, that all changed. I had a group of friends. And now, almost a million years later, I still have most of that group. Kris, Roz, Annie, and I just about go back to the flood. Our lives have taken surprising twists. I don't imagine any of us are doing what we thought we would be doing back in the 9th grade when we were terrorizing Mr. Felker (he loved it), but we're still friends. Kris just happened to e-mail me just after I started my first tenure at Peninsula Hospital. Thanks to my Nokia 9300, I e-mailed her back. Next thing I knew, she had plane and hotel reservations and was up checking on me. When she walked into that hospital room, it was 1962 again. I had never seen anyone so beautiful. The next day, she hooked up with Roz and brought her over to visit. Annie called from Missouri. They are still calling and checking on me. They know when I'm down and when I need them. Roz is a poet and expresses herself in amazing ways. I'm just beginning to realize it. Kris wants her to publish--I do too. Dear friends, if you are reading this, I still love you with the passion of a 14-year-old and the experience of a 60-year old, and I hope we're still talking about Mabel's diamond when we are 100.
Last night, I had a visit from relatively new (for me) friends. Steve, from work, brought his dog, whose name is supposed to be Beau but I've called Furball from the first time I met him. Steve hired me when I thought I had no skills outside of knowing everything there was to know about telephone bills, and over almost six years now has come to be a special person in my life. I frequently remind him that I'm old enough to have been his babysitter (I wasn't but could have been). I've always been afraid of dogs to some degree or another, but Furball is just a big love bug. Furball knows when I'm down and makes me feel better. So thank you, Steve and Furball, for the visit and the friendship.
Now if I haven't named you specifically, it doesn't mean that you aren't still my friend and I don't love and care about you and don't consider you a vital part of the mosaic of my life. Here's the other thing about my friends. I don't let them go. No matter the distance or the time, I will remember you and care about you--possibly remember your birthday and your children and their birthdays--and count you as an important foundation of my life and a blessing beyond measure. If I haven't told you lately, I love you.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Third Chemo
Not so bad--only four hours. I should be feeling pretty good till sometime Friday or Saturday. this time we will be pulling out the big guns for pain relief. I have strict instructions to call the doctor if it doesn't help. We'll see. I had Elaine take pictures of me in all my CP's--now all I have to do is find the cable from my computer to the camera then you can all vote on which one you like best. Not that it will matter--I'll still wear what I want to wear when I want to wear it. So the next project will be finding the cable--or buying a new one...I guess that is a worthy cause. I never got back to sleep this morning. When the sun came up at six, I finally got up and worked on the little girls' sweaters. They are ready to send to Georgia now and I'm working on two more projects. That's my news.
xxooxx
xxooxx
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Second of Six
Chemo wasn't bad, just long, but not as long as last time. I got there about 9:15 and we were on the road by 2, and that was after stopping at the bakery. I finished a layette and blanket and started on a hat to match the baby blanket, so at least it is productive time.
I wore the wig--er cranial prosthesis--it still takes a little getting used to--especially for me since I've never had hair that color, even it my experimental days. But, it's better than the buzz cut in public--I wouldn't want to scare the horses, after all. That's it for today. I'm expecting to feel pretty good today and tomorrow. Friday should be a different story.
xxooxx
I wore the wig--er cranial prosthesis--it still takes a little getting used to--especially for me since I've never had hair that color, even it my experimental days. But, it's better than the buzz cut in public--I wouldn't want to scare the horses, after all. That's it for today. I'm expecting to feel pretty good today and tomorrow. Friday should be a different story.
xxooxx
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
So it wasn't so bad
Long, but not so bad. Glenn got me to the infusion center at about quarter to nine--no traffic along the way. It took them a while to find my records, but they found them and we got started right about on time. The port worked like a charm--I'm SO glad I had that done. First came IV Benedryl and Pepcid, then came Dexamethasone and Aloxi--all of these are to conbat nausea and possible allergic responses. Then came the Taxol--that took forever--and finally Carboplatin--about 40 more minutes. They flushed my port and I was good to go. I had a liter of water and protein bars with me--next time I'm bringing a sandwich. Dory picked me up and we finally left just after 2. When I got home, my daughter, Elaine, was here. She didn't go to the infusion center because she's had a bit of a cold. But that didn't stop her from doing my laundry, changing the sheets, vacuuming, and trying to clean the bathroom without all the stuff on the counter crashing down. Maybe I'll work on the bathroom after I clean off the hope chest in the bedroom...At the infusion center, I finished a baby sweater and made the matching bonnet and booties. I have to get hot on the baby stuff--my stash is down to three items. I have tons of yarn to work with and now lots of time to complete projects.
I ordered two wigs yesterday--they should be here and ready by the time my hair starts falling out. One almost matches my hair perftctly--the other one is in case I want a change and to startle everyone.
The adventure continues.
xxooxx
I ordered two wigs yesterday--they should be here and ready by the time my hair starts falling out. One almost matches my hair perftctly--the other one is in case I want a change and to startle everyone.
The adventure continues.
xxooxx
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