and so it goes

After my last treatment, I did think to ask if these side effects (particularly the nausea) could get progressively worse each time. The answer - yes. And so it goes.

Unfortunately, the nausea isn't the only side effect that can get worse. I had chemo on Wednesday, but went back to the cancer center on Friday for more fluids - to "try to break the cycle" as my oncologist put it. It worked over the weekend, but then by Tuesday evening the nausea was back worse than ever. I couldn't keep the anti-nausea pills down. From about 4 a.m. on, I was vomiting every hour. (Sorry - that's probably more than most of you wanted to know). At 8, I called the cancer center and was on my way back in.

I was extremely dehydrated (again), and had a fever to go along with the low white blood count (0.3) They pumped me full of fluids and antibiotics "as fast as we can." I can't remember ever feeling so miserable. I was cold, shivering, and crying. I just felt so very tired. I told my oncologist to just shoot me and let me die. Dr. Liepman is a no nonsense, wonderful, caring doctor. She told me there would be no shooting, and I wasn't going to die.

After 8 hours of fluids, she transferred me to the hospital. My esophagus was so sore that I couldn't swallow anything - even water hurt. I spent three days in the hospital - Thanksgiving and all - getting more fluids, anti-nausea medicine, antibiotics, and daily Neupogen injections to bring my white blood cell count back up.

My red blood cells are also down, so a transfusion was suggested. I can't say why, but I wasn't comfortable with that, so I declined. They will regenerate themselves in a couple of months anyway. The result is that I will be "more tired than normal" (I don't know what "normal" is anymore), so I guess I can live with that. Charley pampers me by bringing me warm quilts from the dryer, and wraps me up in them. What a luxury!

The good news is that is going to be my last chemo treatment. Dr. Liepman said she thought suspending the last treatment would be best. Given the risk/benefit factor, I have to say that I am mostly relieved with that decision.

So, now I can start healing and feeling better. I am happy to be done with that phase of my treatment, and looking forward to moving on. Yipee!

What hit me?

I am not sure what happened, but this second treatment hit me hard. I was nauseated for 6 days, and it just kept getting worse. I couldn't even sit up without feeling like I would either vomit or faint. No food sounded good, and no liquid did either, leading to dehydration and more misery.
I finally worked up the energy to call the cancer center, and they told me to come in right away (as if that was going to be easy.) Charley - bless him! - warmed up the car, while I got dressed, and drove me into Kalamazoo, where he went inside and picked up a wheelchair for me. I would never have made it to the second floor without one.
They started fluids and potassium immediately, and ran my blood counts. My white blood count dropped to 1.1. I think a "normal range" is between 4 and 11. I had just talked them into reducing the Neulasta last week since my WBC was 10, and I felt terrific. What a difference a week can make.

Fortunately, the fluids, anti-nausea drugs, and the injection for WBC has made me feel much better. I feel almost normal tonight. What a relief!

Preparing for Chemotherapy

I seem to be obsessed with hair today.
In the theory that sometimes shorter hair doesn't fall out as fast, I had a couple of inches cut off my hair today. It is about chin length now. I am not sure if I like it. Which is ok, because I probably only have a couple of weeks to enjoy it.
Since the oncology nurse told me to count on losing my hair, I went to the cosmetology school today and looked at some wigs. Since the wigs there are donated (and free to chemo patients), the selection was very limited.

The wig thing today was depressing. I can't find anything that looks remotely like hair I would like - even on my worst hair days. So maybe the answer is hats. Ah well. It'll grow back sometime. I know I am going to cry when it falls out. And when I lose my eyelashes and eyebrows. The only possible compensation would be if I didn't have to shave my legs.

I am going to go enjoy my evening cup of hot cocoa. Since they told me to get in the habit of drinking lots of liquids for the chemotherapy, I bought cocoa, apple cider, and lots of sugar-free jello (I like to make it hot and drink it like a beverage before it sets. Weird, huh?)

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Breast Cancer

Since October is breast cancer awareness month, I thought I'd mention that I intend to be one of the survivors.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer in mid-August. The lump was found during a mammogram - I can't stress the importance of that test! Because it was in both breasts, I had a bilateral mastectomy with sentinel node biopsies on September 19th, and tomorrow is my first visit with the oncologist. The good news is that the cancer had not reached my lymph nodes, and the margins were clear. For more information, the best site I have found is http://www.breastcancer.org/

The irony of breast cancer is that you do not feel bad until you begin treatment. I felt great and healthy. And other than sore and tired as I recover from surgery (to be expected), I still feel good.

The surgeon did not recommend genetic testing for first degree relatives, because there is no breast cancer history in my family. According to her, the BRAC gene is found only found in about 10% of the women tested. And most women with breast cancer have no family history of the disease.

These days, it seems that everyone knows someone with breast cancer. Although the cause is unknown, many of us want to know how to reduce our risk. To that end, I am including this web page link: http://www.breastcancer.org/risk