In part one of this article, I told you about the side effects I experienced during my first round of chemo, which involved bi-weekly doses of AC (Adriamycin and Cytoxan). I received four doses, total, which would have taken just two months but for me ended up being two and a half. I had to be hospitalized because of an extremely low white blood cell count caused by one of the doses, so my oncologist pushed my next one to the following week.
If you’ve been diagnosed with breast cancer and are facing this regimen, please don’t let my experience scare you. From what I understand, the reaction I had was rare and not expected. My medical team watched me like a hawk once I reported my fever and sore throat (which was severe…but I’m pretty sure that was rare, too). Once my fever reached a certain point, they admitted me to the hospital. I’m so grateful for the high level of care I’ve received every step of the way.
The second round of chemo that I was put on started two weeks after my last dose of AC. The new “cocktail” was Taxol and Herceptin. Only the Taxol is technically chemo, not the Herceptin. For each dose, my nurse would dress up in a protective garb (paper gown, mask, gloves) in order not to be burned by the Taxol (a.k.a. paclitaxel). It was quite a change this past Monday when she was administering my Herceptin to me (still an infusion) but didn’t have to put on the paper gown, etc.
Because I’d received the Taxol and Herceptin on the same day, one right after the other, it’s hard to say which side effects were caused by which med, so I’ll just list what I experienced:
A little more hair loss. Not so much on my head (I never did go “shiny” bald, but always had fuzz…kind of Smeagol from Lord of the Rings…seriously), but this is when my eyebrows thinned way out and I lost most of my eyelashes. Not a morning has gone by that I haven’t been grateful for makeup!
Discoloration of my fingernails and toenails. This didn’t happen right away. I actually don’t remember when it started…maybe halfway through. The bummer is that it’s still happening. My oncologist says this actually started with the AC, but I dunno. All I know is that the damage to my nails is still going on. After the discoloration started, the pain began. My fingertips and toes under the nails became tender and hitting them against anything has been a very painful thing to experience. The tenderness in my toes is getting better, but for weeks I lived in a very comfy pair of Bear Paw boots given to me by some wonderful people.
One thing my doctor’s assistant told me was that some people lose their fingernails. It looks like I may be headed in that direction. Even though I’m done with the AC and the Taxol, the damage to my nails has occurred and it looks like I may lose at least a couple. My middle fingernails are the worst. I won’t describe them and I won’t take pictures…not today, anyway. (You’re welcome.)
Tingling in my fingers and toes. This side effect wasn’t very bad for me at all. For other women it can be much worse, even to the point of extreme pain in their hands and feet. I have to wonder if this occurs in higher doses, such as what’s given to women who receive Taxol biweekly rather than weekly. I opted for the weekly doses because the risk of side effects was lower, even though it meant having to travel to Seattle more often.
Muscle aches and fatigue. The muscle aches weren’t too bad while on Taxol. Now that I’m off of that and only on Herceptin, I feel like I’m 80 years old because of how stiff my joints feel — especially my hips. I’ve been aching all over. As far as the fatigue goes, it’s been my constant companion since beginning chemo. And lately I’ve had the energy of a slug (on the bright side, I’ve had plenty of time to get caught up on my reading).
Chemo brain. Much more than just being “forgetful.” When you forget something, you might feel that the thing you’re trying to remember is “right there,” or “right on the tip of your tongue.” With chemo brain, it’s different. The information you’re looking for is just gone, baby. Lonnnng gone. Like looking at a blank computer screen.
Heart palpitations. These can be scary. My heart’s in good condition, according to a couple of EKGs and MUGA (heart function) scans, but the palpitations were worrisome. My doctor thought they were caused by my port’s catheter “tickling” the area of my heart where it entered into it from the vein, and he may be right, but I noticed the palpitations would worsen right after each dose of chemo. Who knows.
Loss of taste. I think this was probably the worst. Well, up until now, considering how my fingernails look. The Taxol really affected my taste buds. It’s different for every woman. When this happens, some only want salty foods. For me, I couldn’t taste much salt at all, so I opted for more sweet things, which I could taste. And let me tell you, as someone who’s been a health and fitness blogger, that was frustrating. I had once been someone who couldn’t stand the taste of things that were overly sweet, but had become someone who couldn’t eat anything else without wanting to spit it out.
I could eat some savory meals, as long as they were seasoned properly. Sometimes I just had to add salt, but then too much salt tasted gross. I discovered from a cancer cookbook that adding lemon juice to soups, etc., could improve the flavor much better than additional salt would. If you’re in the same boat as me, give it a try.
Some things just also had a really weird aftertaste. This was usually made better by chewing gum or drinking juice (or whatever was near at hand). Water tasted disgusting — it had that same bad aftertaste. BUT, we cancer patients have to drink a lot of water, so what a catch-22 that was. My solution: Make a pitcher of herbal tea, sweeten it with a little honey or agave nectar, and drink that as you would your water. Be sure to switch between various flavors.
I’ve also been thrown into early menopause because of the toxic effects the chemo had on my ovaries (not sure if it was the AC or the Taxol that did it — maybe both). I honestly don’t mind it. We’ve had our kids and at this stage of our lives certainly weren’t planning on more. Also, I had monster migraines (with sharp teeth and claws) that would always coincide with “that time of the month,” and they are now completely GONE. That’s definitely a blessing in disguise. The worst part of early menopause has been the hot flashes, but for some reason, I haven’t been noticing them as much lately. My oncologist prescribed a low dose of Effexor to help with the hot flashes, but just one made me so dopey that I never took another. I’d rather fan myself or stand outside in 20 degree weather in just my skivvies than be doped up like that again. But maybe you’ll handle it better. Everyone’s different!
Last, but not least, I am also experiencing some serious hip and joint stiffness caused by the Herceptin. While not chemo, it’s still something causing side effects for me, so I’m listing it here. I can’t sit for longer than five or 10 minutes without feeling like I’m 80 and arthritic when I stand up. It’s not very painful, just makes it hard to walk. Kind of like the tin man when he needed his oil!
(Doesn’t he look like he’s just been goosed in this picture?!)
So there you have it…my side effects as I remember them. If you don’t have cancer, you may have found these two posts extremely boring, and that’s okay. But if you’re a fellow breast cancer survivor-to-be, like I am, I hope this helped you to at least know you’re not alone. The good news is that, while I may have made some of these side effects sound completely horrible, you’ll get through them. They WILL go away. And, needless to say, you may not get all of the side effects I did. I hope your experience is smooth sailing, but if it isn’t, send me a note and vent — even if you’re finding this years after I wrote it.
We’re a sisterhood and are here for each other. Always.
A blog about breast cancer isn’t complete without a post or two about the various side effects experienced during chemo (and even after, for a while).
One of my least favorite side effects is what Taxol has done to my nails, which, thanks to the pain, is actually making it hard for me to type this post. My most painful finger is the middle one on my right hand. Trying not to use it is resulting in a whole lot of typos — which you will not have to see thanks to my irritating perfectionist proofreading tendencies.
Starting at the beginning…
Many women diagnosed with breast cancer are first started on an intravenous cocktail of Adriamycin and Cytoxin, referred to by medical professionals as AC. I won’t repeat what the rest of us call it. It isn’t nice.
AC, which I received four doses of (one every two weeks), is red in color and just looked creepy dripping through the I.V. line toward my body. One of the first things I would notice each time it was administered was a weird taste in my mouth. Sometimes I would experience it during the infusion, but usually I wouldn’t notice it until I got home. It wasn’t pleasant and affected the way my food tasted in a bad way. Thankfully, that bad taste would go away after three or four days, which left me with over a week to somewhat enjoy how my food tasted. When I could eat, that is.
Other side effects included:
Complete hair loss on my head. I was still shaving my legs and still had eyelashes and eyebrows. I know some women lose those with the AC, but I didn’t until I started the Taxol.
Nausea and vomiting. It was bad, but not as bad as I’d expected. I didn’t live next to the toilet, but it did make me nervous to go anywhere without a plastic bag at the ready. The “good” thing about having cancer in this day and age is the many anti-nausea medications available. They can work wonders…when they work. I was prescribed a few different kinds and found the best one that worked for me was Compazine, even though I still was nauseous on it. They made me feel “doped up,” though, and I really hated that feeling. Hated it.
Constipation. This is actually a side effect of the anti-nausea meds.
Low white blood cells. After my first AC dose, my white cell count was so low that I ended up in the hospital. I learned later that it was so low they could have lost me. I was sick with a sinus infection and the worst sore throat of my life, thanks to my inability at the time to fight the infection. In the hospital I was put on Dilaudid (a pain med stronger than morphine — just getting rid of the pain was heavenly) along with antibiotics, and received one or two shots of Neulasta, which stimulates white cell production. I also received a blood transfusion. My doctor lowered my next dose of AC and, thankfully, I never did end up back in the hospital. Some people just react badly to it, and I was one of them.
Mucositis. Mucositis is a condition that develops when the chemo attacks the lining of the gastrointestinal tract. It can happen anywhere from the mouth downward, and for me, it was my throat. I had a constant store throat for months, one that only went away completely sometime in the last few weeks. Maybe I shouldn’t say completely, because some things still make my throat swell up and hurt, like red sauces and chocolate. (Isn’t that sad? Chocolate!) A sore throat caused by mucositis can be downright miserable, and in the beginning Oxycodone, ice cream, and popsicles (one right after the other) were the only things that would make it manageable. I was so glad when I was finally able to stop taking the Oxycodone and could think clearly again. Eventually, cough drops like Halls or Ricola — and Tylenol — were all I needed, along with the occasional popsicle.
Needless to say, I was glad to be done with the AC regimen, but after reading horror stories about Taxol online (don’t do that), I wasn’t too excited to begin that one, either. Read all about it in Part II, coming up.
(By the way, for an excellent resource on getting through breast cancer and living a full life after treatment, check out Living Well Beyond Breast Cancer by Marisa Weiss and Ellen Weiss. This book has been one of my constant companions.)
===================================================================== Sally Dinius is writer-in-chief here at CrazyBusyMama.com, a blog created to inspire and motivate busy mamas everywhere to feel healthy, fit, and in control of their lives. Follow her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/sallydinius, and come join the CrazyBusy Mama Facebook page by clicking here. And don’t forget to check out the new CrazyBusy Mama Quick Guides available for your Kindle or Kindle app!
My daughter and I got one on camera just outside of Fred Meyer one day. I believe they’re also known as dust devils in some parts, and it’s not hard to imagine the caught-up debris being spun by a crazy, unseen imp vying for the attention of the easily amused.
You know, like me and my daughter.
Here’s the video:
As much as I hate metaphors, I feel like one of those leaves. Breast cancer, of course, is that little whirlpool of spinning air that I would love to break free of. Until it spins itself out, I’m stuck in it.
Stuck, but not a victim.
I figure I can either go into full panic mode because the ride won’t be stopping in the near future, or I can do what I can to enjoy it (the ride, that is, not the cancer). In fact, I even tossed around the idea of a too-long but more appropriate title for this post: “I May Be Spinning Around Like a Leaf in a Wind Eddy…But I’m Free As a Bird on the Inside.”
Speaking of being free, a word that’s been coming to mind quite a bit lately is this one:
Proactive.
Being proactive is all about making things happen instead of just letting them happen. It’s taking the darts being thrown at you and throwing them back. It’s a choice. It’s freedom.
It’s been over a week now since I finished chemo, and this morning I woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. As the day went on, everything hurt from my head to my toes (which were already hurting, thanks to the effects the chemo has had on my toenails and fingernails). Like the depression I was thrown into last week, I’ve heard this can be pretty normal, too. Even expected. Those of us going through chemo are usually given steroids with each infusion which keep us from experiencing some of the ugly side effects. BUT…once the treatments are over with, the steroids wear off sooner than the chemo does, and we can start to feel very fatigued and even achy, like today.
It’s hard to be proactive on a day like this, but proactivity doesn’t have to mountain-shaking. It can be taken in small steps, too. So I made the choice to give myself permission to rest and enjoy a day of doing very little rather than sink into the dumps just because I couldn’t do everything I wanted to.
Next up, large and looming, is surgery. I’m facing a bilateral mastectomy with lymph node dissection in my left axillary area (armpit). I’m dreading it, remembering how painful just the biopsies in the same areas were last August. (I’m also dreading it for other obvious reasons.) But again, I’ve chosen to be proactive. I’m focusing on what I can do to make my recovery easier on me, and trying very hard not to focus on the surgery itself. Or the recovery.
Besides deciding on my mindset, part of that choice to do something was to go shopping this last weekend. I was told I’ll need shirts or jackets that open in the front (because it will hurt my chest to try to pull things over my head — something to do with the arm movements needed for that since they’ll be picking on my pectoral muscles, as well), so I picked up two hoodies that will work nicely. I also found a black TV tray at Target to make eating easier. And if it’s too tall to use at the sofa, which it might be, it can at least hold the things I need to have at hand. You know, just being ready in small ways for a big event like major surgery can knock out some of its teeth.
I think the best way I can be proactive is to choose my mindset. I haven’t been fabulously successful in that area lately, especially this past week, but I know it’s an option and I’m trying. At the very least, I’m focusing on not giving in to self pity and not EVER feeling like a victim. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I don’t. But most days I do pretty darned okay.
How have you been proactive when faced with a difficult situation?
===================================================================== Sally Dinius is writer-in-chief here at CrazyBusyMama.com, a blog created to inspire and motivate busy mamas everywhere to feel healthy, fit, and in control of their lives. Follow her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/sallydinius, and come join the CrazyBusy Mama Facebook page by clicking here. And don’t forget to check out the new CrazyBusy Mama Quick Guides available for your Kindle or Kindle app!
When I first got it in my mind to start blogging about my journey out of breast cancer (“out of” sounds better to me than “through”), I knew I was going to have to be transparent for the sake of helping and encouraging someone else. The good, the bad, the ugly…you’d see it all. Well, almost all. There are just some things a lady doesn’t share, right? Right.
This should have been a great week. The best of weeks. Monday was a really big day, after all — I finished five months of chemo! Woo hoo? Yes, woo hoo…and aside from being drugged up on Benedryl, I was very happy to be done. It began to hit me that night and especially the next day that finishing chemo was a VERY big deal.
But Tuesday was the beginning of my downfall. I was a little sad that it wasn’t being made a bigger deal of. I wondered where the balloons were and even contemplated buying one for myself and writing “Yay ME” on the back of it with a wide-tipped Sharpie.
For a (somewhat frugal) treat, I did take myself out for a little bit of treasure hunting at Goodwill. After finding a few too many cute things for my house, I then picked up my daughter from her driver’s ed class. She’d had a really rough day, too, so I took her to Starbucks where we could vent over a couple of decaf grande something-or-others.
To be fair, my husband did surprise me with a cheesecake and Martinelli’s that evening (along with a very nice card and a Starbucks card tucked inside it), but I was already feeling too low to enjoy it. It didn’t help that the only thing I could taste — thanks to the chemo — was the cheesecake’s cherry topping.
I was on a slippery slope and sliding fast. I fell into a monster depression that, honestly, I’m still not out of — in fact, am still in the thick of. This thing hit me out of the blue. Or, who knows — maybe it was just waiting in the wings. As I told a friend today, I think I’ve just been on a plateau with my eyes on the goal of finishing chemo. Well…been there, done that, got the t-shirt to prove it. Now what?
Like a little plane that was puttering along, I ran out of gas and nose-dived.
And now…the next thing I face is major surgery, recovery, more maintenance medication through November (Herceptin every three weeks), and six weeks of radiation sometime this spring. Knowing that I still have so much ahead is really making me miss my dad, who would have been here for me through all of it.
So there you have it…the bad and the ugly all wrapped up together. From what I’ve been reading, depression is a very much-expected part of breast cancer treatment. Maybe in a way it’s also an emotional release, and I’m learning that’s okay. If I’ve done anything since my diagnosis, it’s that I’ve learned to give myself a break. If I need to rest, I rest. If I need to let something go that doesn’t need to be in my schedule, I let it go. If someone in my life is causing me unneeded stress, I let them go, too. If I need to cry, I cry. If I need to wallow in self pity, I wallow…but not for too long. If I have some down days, there’s probably a reason for it and I’m not going to stuff it.
I gave you the bad and the ugly today, so I should end with some good. I did see my oncologist on Monday, just before my last chemo treatment. He reiterated that my tumor had shrunk somewhere around 99%. Yes — that IS awesome. That’s practically GONE. He then told me, “I love starting my day with patients like you.” Let me tell you something — if you’ve got a doctor who can give you hope and lift your spirits like that, you’ve got the best out there. Period.
Finally, I leave you with this display by artist Tim Etchells. Sometimes we lose hope, but mostly it rises. I’m holding on to it. Have a great weekend!
Courtesy http://timetchells.com
===================================================================== Sally Dinius is writer-in-chief here at CrazyBusyMama.com, a blog created to inspire and motivate busy mamas everywhere to feel healthy, fit, and in control of their lives. Follow her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/sallydinius, and come join the CrazyBusy Mama Facebook page by clicking here. And don’t forget to check out the new CrazyBusy Mama Quick Guides available for your Kindle or Kindle app!
I’ll be heading into Seattle later today for my next-to-last chemotherapy infusion. Before I do, however, I thought this would be a good time to fill you in on my “timeline.” In other words, what’s still ahead for me — and when — regarding kicking this cancer in the arse. (That’s Olde English for…oh, never mind.)
First of all, in case you’re wondering, the type of cancer I was diagnosed with is Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. I had one tumor in my left breast and at least one affected lymph node (it looks like a few more were affected, as well, but they weren’t as concerned with those…they’ll all be coming out, anyway). The cancer is estrogen and progesterone negative (not affected by those hormones) and Her2/neu positive. No, I do not know what that means. Could I ask? Could I Google it? Yes. I don’t want to. Right now, I just want to focus on getting well and not get discouraged by all the definitions. I realize that sounds a little childish.
Originally, I’d thought I was told my cancer was “triple negative,” but I found out sometime back that isn’t the case…which is, apparently, a good thing. Her2/neu positive cancers can be treated with Herceptin — more on that in a moment.
So…timeline. Already checked off, aside from the diagnosis and a battery of tests that included a biopsy, a few different MRIs, an abdominal CT scan, two MUGA (heart function) scans, etc., was my first round of chemo which consisted of Adriamycin/Cytoxin, otherwise affectionately referred to as “AC.” It is also known as “red Kool-Aid” and “the red stuff from hell.” (I apologize if that offends you — I’m just reporting it as I hear it. It does, by the way, live up to that last reference very well.)
Next up was Taxol/Herceptin, which I am almost through with. Taxol is the chemo, Herceptin goes along with it to bind with the Her2 receptors in the cancer cells. I’m almost done with the Taxol, but not the Herceptin. I have two more Taxol/Herceptin combo infusions left.
After the Taxol is finished, I’ll continue going in for Herceptin infusions every three weeks through November.
The next “big thing” I’m looking at is surgery. I’ll explain that a little better in another post. I’ll be meeting with my surgeon before the end of the month to discuss what will be happening and to schedule it. I also need to meet with the plastic surgeon again to let him which route I decided to take.
After surgery will be six weeks of radiation therapy. It will be three times a week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Oh…yay. I’m not sure when these treatments will be done — most likely late spring.
So…I’ll be off in Benedryl dreamland later today. Getting there and back might be interesting as Seattle is in the midst of some much hoped-for (by some) wintry weather. Let’s hope I-5 doesn’t become a parking lot.
Have a great Monday, my friends.
===================================================================== Sally Dinius is writer-in-chief here at CrazyBusyMama.com, a blog created to inspire and motivate busy mamas everywhere to feel healthy, fit, and in control of their lives. Follow her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/sallydinius, and come join the CrazyBusy Mama Facebook page by clicking here. And don’t forget to check out the new CrazyBusy Mama Quick Guides available for your Kindle or Kindle app!
It’s weird to think about now, but after I was diagnosed with breast cancer five months ago, one way I chose to pass the time was by browsing a website called Headcovers.com.
I looked at scarves, hats, wigs, and the other things I thought I might need once I began chemo: eyebrow stencils, fake eyelashes, wig hairspray….
Don’t get me wrong — I wasn’t excited to start chemo one bit. I was devastated. Horrified. But I couldn’t stop looking at all those things I was going to need. Partly it was because I knew I was going to need them, so I thought I might as well toughen up and get used to the idea. And partly it was morbid curiosity. Like news footage of an awful event that you can’t stop watching even though it’s turning your stomach into knots.
In an attempt to look at it positively, I figured that at the very least my time getting ready each morning would be cut in half. I wouldn’t have to do my hair. No more washing, conditioning, brushing, curling, straightening because the curls don’t look right and then giving up and putting it all up in a clip. I’d only have to pop on a wig or a scarf.
But I was anxious about it, and that anxiety was only made worse by not knowing if I’d be able to afford anything but scarves. Just in time, however, some wonderful friends took me to a wig store nearby and bought one for me. (And I found out that another friend chipped in toward it later.) It was beautiful. And rather uncanny, because it was very similar to my “pre-chemo” color and style.
Here I am wearing it on the way to see my dad at the hospital. It’s not the best picture — I originally took it just to show my sister. I LOVED this wig:
The saying God works in mysterious ways comes to mind here, but even more than that, it was so obvious to me how He also singles us out — even in ways we think would be small to Him — to let us know He sees us. To let us know He cares about the things that matter to us; the things that let us keep our dignity.
That wig was perfect timing. Within a week or two of getting it, my hair started to come out in serious handfuls. The owner of the wig store had offered to shave it for me when the time came, and I politely said I’d consider having her do that. On the inside, I recoiled at the thought. I think I knew from the get-go that I’d be shaving my own head, which is just what I ended up doing in the privacy of my own bathroom. I’m proud to say that I didn’t cry, even though I honestly didn’t know how I was going to react when I saw myself with such closely shorn hair. (It hadn’t all fallen out yet, so I just couldn’t make myself shave it closer than about a half inch long. Eventually most of that fell out on its own.) I could totally picture myself melting into a sobbing puddle on the bathroom floor, but I also knew that wouldn’t be happening. I “set my face like a flint” and bucked up. And that was that. No melting.
I wore that wig every time I went somewhere. Let me tell you — when you’ve lost your hair to chemotherapy, it doesn’t matter how girlie you were to begin with or not — having hair that you can see around your face means something. It makes such a difference in how you feel. I guess I’m speaking for myself, because there are women who go out in public bald and even more who do so wearing scarves. Those are some secure women and I seriously admire their spunk.
I did try to wear a scarf out in public…once. I went to Fred Meyer with my husband and daughters. If you have short hair, I dare you to try this as a social experiment. Seriously — put on a scarf and go to the store. People do treat you differently if they think you’re sick, whether you feel like you are or not. It’s a little difficult to pick up on at first, but after a while you realize they’re going out of their way to act normal around you. Their overly-niceness bothered me so much that I never did it again. I think it bothered me because I saw myself in them. I’ve done that, too. It’s not that it’s bad…I just want to be treated like everyone else. I like blending in.
I guess if I had to put into one word why I choose to wear a wig instead of a scarf (though I often wear scarves and hats at home, especially in the morning and at the end of the day), it’s this: normalcy. I don’t want total strangers to know I have cancer. There’s just something to be said about being treated like a normal person when I run errands. I even wear my wig when I go in for chemo because I have the need to feel normal there, too. During the day and around the house, I wear it because I know my kids prefer to see their mom with hair. With all the upheaval and stress they’ve had to deal with, if it’s in my power to make things seem a little more normal for them, you bet I’m going to do it. (Humor helps, too, like comparing my peach fuzz-covered head to that of a Chia Pet in a lame attempt to get a snicker out of my kids.)
And I think it’s helped me, probably more than I realize, to see hair on my head when I look in the mirror. I don’t mean the peach fuzz that’s growing back right now, though it’s very cool to see; I mean an actual hairstyle. There are some days when I just need to look in the mirror and see someone with pretty hair looking back at me. Hey — if I can fool myself, I can fool anyone.
Currently, I’m on my second wig. I still have the first, but it’s looking a little battle-worn. Synthetic hair, if it rubs against your collar and shoulders on a daily basis, will gradually start displaying a very cranky attitude. The hair will begin to kink up, get tangled, and just look ratty. I Googled everything I could about how to save it and tried what I found, but the wig is just too tired.
So…I did something scary: I ordered my new wig from Headcovers.com without getting to try it on first. All I had to go by was the picture online. So far, I’m loving it as much as the first. It’s perfect. (And it’s short, which means no rubbing against my collar and an easier transition to my own short hair once it grows out.)
I went to the library today with two of my kids: the five-year-old, because I promised her, and my 17-year-old, because I needed him to drive and help carry my ton of books. (I’ve been feeling faint from the heart palpitations and didn’t think it would be a real smart idea to pass out while driving.) The library is automated (meaning you check out your own books), but for some reason, the computer I chose wasn’t working and I needed the librarian’s help.
When she was almost done scanning the books, she looked up at me and said, “I just LOVE your hair color. I usually shy away from highlights, but those look REALLY NICE.”
Whenever I get a compliment like this, I’m tempted to lean in and whisper, “You know it’s a wig, right? You’re just being nice, right?”
But I didn’t. I just said with a smile, “Thank you! I appreciate that.” She’d made my day. I wish I could have told her why.
*Disclaimer: Although I recommend Headcovers.com in this post, I am not an affiliate for them nor will I receive anything from them for the recommendation. They’re simply a wonderful company.
===================================================================== Sally Dinius is writer-in-chief here at CrazyBusyMama.com, a blog created to inspire and motivate busy mamas everywhere to feel healthy, fit, and in control of their lives. Follow her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/sallydinius, and come join the CrazyBusy Mama Facebook page by clicking here. And don’t forget to check out the new CrazyBusy Mama Quick Guides available for your Kindle or Kindle app!
Monday, 1/2/12: Today I thought I would blog my way through my day at Seattle Cancer Care Alliance (SCCA), just using my phone. (But…being somewhat of a perfectionist, I had to “fix” it, which is why you’re just now getting to read it.)
We’re on our way there right now. I have to be at the lab at noon, and it’s 11:55. We’re still 20 minutes away. I really wanted to get a latte on the way, but alas…it won’t be happening today.
This is me.
Lonnie’s driving. Handsome guy.
I decided to be comfy today. I’ve brought my white fluffy blanket and am wearing my black Bear Paw slipper boots. The neuropathy has been so bad in my toes (causing a tingly, prickly, painful feeling) that the slippers are a nice change from regular shoes.
I always have to start at the lab as there are certain levels they look for in my blood to ensure that I’m a good candidate for chemo on that particular day. They check my creatinine (for kidney function) and my white and red blood cells, among other things.
The lab waiting room is absolutely empty when we get there. It’s NEVER like this. We’re told they saw around 100 people between 8:00 and 10:00 am…glad we missed that!
In the lab, my port is “accessed.” The lab tech gives me a shot of Lidocaine right next to my port (or maybe right on it — I never look!), inserts a “butterfly” needle with attached tubing, then cleans out my port and the catheter in my vein with saline and heparin (a blood thinner).
(Learn all about chemotherapy ports and how they work by clicking here.)
She then takes two vials of blood to send down the hall to the lab and leaves the port accessed, which means the butterfly needle is still attached along with the short amount of tubing. The port and needle are covered with a clear bandage and the tubing is taped up to it. Sorry, no picture — didn’t even think of it! For those of you who are squeamish, you’re welcome.
After the lab, we stop at the new coffee station set up in the lobby. Lonnie gets coffee, I get hot chocolate. Here’s a tip: If you’re making hot chocolate and only have hot water to mix with it, add in some half and half or creamer. So good! Well, better, anyway.
On the 5th floor, where the infusions are done (chemo, that is), it’s just as empty, with the exception of a few lost souls. With so few around, the recliners were available and we grab two. Here’s our view.
Apparently all the people who made such a rush on the lab are now having their infusions, so all the rooms are full. I don’t have to wait long, though, and actually get a room with a bed. It even has a memory foam mattress! We really need to get one of those for home. (The mattress, that is, not a hospital bed!)
As the nurse waits for my lab results, she gets me set up on the IV. When the results are in she orders the meds from the pharmacy. (Am I sounding like a PBS documentary yet?) When they’re on their way, I’m given a steroid (Dexamethisone, or something like that), an anti-nausea (Zofran), and an antihistamine (Benedryl).
Usually right after getting settled in the room, Lonnie goes to the little kitchen on the floor and makes me some organic mac n’ cheese (it’s a microwave dinner, but it has real cheese in it!), and gets me an organic chocolate milk and lemon bar from the fridge. Pretty sure the lemon bars are delivered fresh every day. They’re so good. And yes, I’ll admit, I do have them every week. I only have three more of these to go, so I figure I’m going to milk it.
Anyway, here I am getting ready for my “Benedryl nap” (it usually knocks me out, at least for a little while):
After the Benedryl I’m given Herceptin, followed by Taxol. There’s no real reason for the Taxol to follow the Herceptin — that’s just always the order in which the pharmacy sends them. When they’re done dripping, my port’s line is flushed once again with heparin and saline, and I’m booted out. (Well, they do put it a little nicer than that.)
Now you know at least a little bit of what it’s like at SCCA. I sure hope you never have to see it for yourself, at least as a patient. Thanks for following me around!
===================================================================== Sally Dinius is writer-in-chief here at CrazyBusyMama.com, a blog created to inspire and motivate busy mamas everywhere to feel healthy, fit, and in control of their lives. Follow her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/sallydinius, and come join the CrazyBusy Mama Facebook page by clicking here. And don’t forget to check out the new CrazyBusy Mama Quick Guides available for your Kindle or Kindle app!
My fingertips have been pretty tender lately. It’s not as easy as it used to be to pull open bags of cereal, pry up Play-Doh lids, or even scrub off globs of dried frosting that had dripped onto the table from the eaves of my daughter’s gingerbread house.
And my feet hurt. When I walk — just sometimes, not all the time — it feels like I’m walking on thousands of tiny little pins. Not exactly what I would call outright painful, just…weird.
Last but not least, there’s my tongue. I can’t taste much of anything. The food I eat has to be either super spicy (which hurts my throat), super salty, or chocolatey-sweet for me to be able to taste it. Otherwise, I might as well be eating lightly-flavored cardboard.
No, I don’t have some strange mystery disease. All of the above are side effects of a chemotherapy drug called Taxol.
I have breast cancer.
I’ll be completely honest — I’ve been feeling frozen when it comes to writing this blog. It started as a health and fitness blog geared toward my fellow “crazybusy mamas.” Then this crazybusy mama noticed a lump under my arm, which made the so-called “fibrocystic tissue” — as I’d been told it was — in my left breast seem suddenly not so innocent.
My diagnosis came in early August — all in the course of an afternoon. An exam turned into an ultrasound, which turned into a mammogram, which turned into a three-part core biopsy, which turned into a second mammogram (yes, right after the biopsy…ouch…so they could get a picture of little metal “markers” they’d left behind). The unofficial diagnosis came from the ultrasound tech who immediately left the room to get my husband.
We all have moments in our lives when we hear the worst news possible. In 2004, it was while lying on the ultrasound table at my OB/Gyn’s office and hearing the words, “I’m sorry, but there’s no cardiac activity” (in our 16-week unborn baby). In 2006, just three weeks after the birth of our youngest daughter, it was from my husband as he told me of his own cancer diagnosis: multiple myeloma. On the 3rd of August, 2011, it was what the ultrasound tech said to my husband in the hallway: “We’re pretty sure it’s cancer.”
Many women who are diagnosed with breast cancer blog about it from the very beginning. I’d considered it. Even started a post but saved it as a draft. For me it was too fresh, too raw, too painful to share in any real depth. Instead, I journaled — something I found difficult to continue after losing my dad to a heart attack one day before his 70th birthday on September 26th. I did write a few entries after losing him, mostly about him, but stopped after his funeral.
But as with anything in life, any difficult thing, it does get easier. The pain doesn’t necessarily go away — I’ve come to terms with my cancer but still cry for my dad — but it gets easier, as time goes on, to get back into the oh-so-dailiness of life.
It gets easier to write again.
I’ve been stumbling for quite some time about the direction this blog should take now. I’m having heart palpitations because of my port (a device implanted under the skin on the right side of my chest — it’s where the chemotherapy drugs are administered). I may explain why it’s affecting my heart in a future post, but you’re welcome to Google it in the meantime. My doctor says my heart is in great condition (according to a heart function scan) and that exercising would be perfectly fine. But since I’m so weirded out by my heart’s galloping and ga-leaping, I think I’ll wait for a while before picking up Jillian’s 30 Day Shred again.
So, if you don’t mind reading along, I’ll be sharing my story and experiences as a breast cancer conqueror. It hasn’t stolen my joie de vivre – in fact, I have many moments when I all but forget that I have cancer — and it hasn’t stolen my identity…I’m still very much me. If my story can encourage even one person (though hopefully many more than one), I’ll tell it all.
If you’re on Facebook, you can get updates on my blog at my CrazyBusy Mama page. You can also subscribe to my blog on Networked Blogs and it will show up in your Facebook newsfeed. If you’re on Twitter, follow me at Sally Dinius. Or, simply click on the “Posts” link at the top right of the page to follow me that way.
Thank you for reading, my friends. Comments are always welcome.
================================================= Sally Dinius is writer-in-chief here at CrazyBusyMama.com, a blog created to inspire and motivate busy mamas everywhere to feel healthy, fit, and in control of their lives. Follow her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/sdinius, and come join the CrazyBusy Mama Facebook page by clicking here.
