Month: January 2012

Just when I was in danger of taking myself seriously..

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I decided I needed to get back into an exercise program. I’ve.. umm.. slipped since my diagnosis. As in my give a shit broke and it wasn’t on the short list for repair.   I started with my stationary bike. 5 minutes in decided it’s still boring as hell. Moved on to weights.. bah.. so I decided to pull out the weighted hula hoop. When I first bought it I nearly killed myself. True story.  Let’s just say Grace is not my middle name and leave it at that. But.. last summer I gave it another go and got pretty good at it. Well, for me.  When I was diagnosed I decided I shouldn’t do it any more. Don’t ask me why. I’m pretty sure it’s not possible to actually “bust a lump” though I have threatened to. So I pulled it out, put it back together and gave it a whirl.  I was hooping along, feeling pretty good, and realized I was standing in front of my large picture window, sans head covering.  I got the giggles and that was that.. hard to hoop when you’re laughing.   I’ll leave it out where I’m sure to see it (or trip over it) and get back to daily use.  It’s fun and believe it or not gives a pretty good work out!

 

I am consumed with having cancer today

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I don’t know why now or why I can’t seem to stay off the cancer sites or stop reading the reams of materials I have.  Maybe because my next treatment is coming up and I have a feeling I won’t be as lucky this time around. I keep hearing how the effects are cumulative and  recovery time between each is harder as time goes on. I think I’ll give myself the rest of the day to dwell and then I’m over it.  Until next time.

 

Mixed messages

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Anyone else getting mixed messages from your docs?  I saw my surgeon for my final postop visit. Everything is healing well so he has discharged me, except not… I can call if I have any further problems without waiting for referral, I have a “Fast Pass”.  My followups will be at the Cancer Center when my treatments are done, except I should see him yearly to remain an active patient, but there really isn’t any need since my follow ups will be at the Cancer Center, but I can, but I don’t have to.   Clear as mud. Since there are obvious changes in my breast from surgery I asked if there would be more and when I would know the “new normal”  as far as doing self breast exams. He said there was no proof that self exams did any good.  (WHAT???) or mammograms for that matter.  I reminded him that I found this lump myself. So I should do them. Or not. Apparently it’s up to me.  I skipped my mammo last year based on the new protocol that every other year is sufficient and look where that got me.  It wouldn’t have changed the reality of the cancer, but it would have been caught earlier and maybe it would not have spread and I could have avoided the chemo. We’ll never know.  I’ve had similar conversations with Oncology.  For instance, when asking about side effects I get the standard “Everyone’s different” and then in the next breath.. “You WILL experience (fill in the blank)”.  And usually it’s the one side effect you hope to be spared .. like hair loss.

I’ve heard of chemo brain, but I thought that was supposed to affect the patient, not their providers. That being said, I really do like my doctors and my surgeon ended the visit by telling me I look remarkably well for someone undergoing chemo and pretended he didn’t know I was wearing a wig by asking if I had experienced any hair loss yet. You gotta love that.

Just for laughs

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Image

It’s not fair.

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No, not the whole cancer thing. I mean, yeah, that pretty much sucks but I never went through the “Why me’s”.  With my family history and the fact that 1 in 8 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in her lifetime, why not me?  What I’m finding completely unfair is that while I no longer have a hair on my head I still have to shave my legs. What’s up with that?  And another delightful side effect of all these poisons medications that I am on is forced menopause. Forced.. as in forget about easing into it.  One of the (unexpected) side effects of the steroids I am given with chemotherapy is acne. Seriously?    So, while puberty and menopause wage an unholy war in my body, I’m going to complain bitterly about how unfair life is. Don’t blame me.. it’s my inner teen.  Later my inner menopausal crone will tell me to suck it up and get over it. For now, the teen drama queen wins.

Snatched bald

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Literally.  So disregard my previous post about screwing with their stats by keeping my hair. Chemo won this round.  After yet another night of feeling the pillow and my head fairly obsessively I decided to vigorously brush to help things along.  I got an impressive amount of hair but now my scalp felt tender. So I started “gently” pulling out handfuls.  Yikes..now I looked like a plucked chicken.  I considered leaving the down as cushioning under my wig, but I needed to even things off. After a quick trim I thought what the hell and took the electric razor to it.  The good news is my head is not horribly misshapen like I have long suspected.  The stubble is minimal and I read a lint roller can take care of that.  I am rocking the Sinead O’Connor!

Looking ahead to spring though.. after this round of chemo I start another that will mean weekly treatments, so basically no recovery time in between. I was thinking at least I can sit out on my deck with a book or putter in the garden when I feel up to it. But no.. with this one (Taxol) I need to stay out of the sun. Completely. Lovely.  After a winter in Maine I’m white. Blindingly so. I am also now bald. Spring 2012 will find me rocking the Powder. Anyone know where I can get some blue shades?

Have I mentioned..

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How much I hate the color pink?  Not all pink… just pale, baby girl pink. Even when I had 2 baby girls I wasn’t fond of it. They were dressed in bright primary colors, or at the very least dark pinks and purples. (You’re welcome girls).  Who decided pink would be a good color for breast cancer?  I didn’t get a vote.  Fight like a girl? pfft… What if I break a nail? A pink frosted nail? 

disclaimer.. I do love the hand crocheted pink ribbon blanket my aunt made me. But that’s it.

Can you NOT?

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Dear Dr. Can you not tell me every damn time we meet that my hair is going to fall out? From my very first post diagnostic visit I have been reminded that I will lose my hair at every appointment, by every nurse, doctor, coordinator.  I realize this is very traumatic for most women and I doubt I will be any different when it happens to me, no matter how prepared I think am, but really? you feel the need to mention it ad nauseum?  Does the “yes I know”  “I have wigs, scarves, hats and turbans ready” or “I’m as prepared as can be” not register to you?  Why not just throw in “by the way, you have breast cancer” each time too, in case it’s escaped my thoughts for a nanosecond?  I had my first post chemo visit yesterday. I was feeling great, my numbers were good, I had plans to eat out and shop afterwards with my daughter.  At the end of the visit Dr. Doom asks what day it is again? I say Day 11. “Oh, well your hair is going to fall out in clumps now” and describes how it will feel.  I spent the rest of the day feeling like there were a million little invisible bugs crawling around my scalp ready to uproot my hair and throw down.  I envisioned myself standing in line at the bank while my hair fell out in waves and the branch manager discreetly followed me to the counter with broom and dustpan.  Last night I woke up every few hours and felt my head and pillow for signs of baldness. By morning I had myself convinced I can’t leave the house now until “it” happens.  Screw that. I’m keeping my hair just to mess with their stats.

 

The ball dropped..

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And so did my misguided sense that I would escape all the unpleasantness of chemo. New Year’s Eve was my first day off the steroids and by evening I was alternating between spending time in the bathroom and curled up in a ball with shaking chills and body aches.  Felt like the worse flu ever.  I spent a mostly sleepless night and then gave up and was in the recliner by 5 a.m. where I spent the better part of New Year’s Day feeling sorry for myself, missing a family party.  It was a beautiful, unseasonably warm day here and my husband tried to lure me outside with a bonfire. I did watch a little from the window.  By late afternoon I was feeling a lot better and attempted to make dinner. We bbq’d turkey burgers and I managed one bite before I decided to have sherbet for dinner, a repeat of lunch.  By the time I went to bed I felt really well, just extremely tired.  In my delirium the night before (only a slight exaggeration) I completely forgot about the Imodium I had been told to have on hand. When I remembered it at noon, one dose was all it took.  I won’t be forgetting that again!  Now that I have a sense of what to expect and when, I think I will be better prepared next round.

Today I get a do-over. This is my New Year and we are clearing out 2011, packing away Christmas to start. Tomorrow, it’s life as usual. I’ve spent enough time anticipating and dreading symptoms that may or may not come, only to be blindsided when they do.   If one miserable night is as bad as it gets, I’ve totally got this! Happy New Year.