April 2, 2007 Spring fever!

For the last couple of days I've felt really great. Last week I worked all week and felt like I was productive. Each day I felt better, but by the end of the day I was usually tired and ready for bed. I think my biggest complaint was plain old allergies! My sore throat is gone. My headaches are less frequent and less debilitating. My appetite is better. My mouth sores are better. My white blood cell counts were drastically low on Tuesday and the shot they gave me should be kicking in now. I felt great all weekend and tried to keep busy, walk the dog, and generally be productive. Just in time for my next chemo on Tuesday April 3!

I have pretty much stopped drinking (my liver is working overtime anyway) and limited coffee, and I've tried to drink a lot of water. That seems to help. I'm so thirsty all the time. I'm supposed to be drinking quarts and quarts of water a day. Catherine, please have a mojito for me. You'll be doing me a favor! and for those of you who prefer pomegranate martinis, do your part!

I know my hair is going to fall out by Tuesday, and I'm sort of ready, but every night I have nightmares about it falling out at inopportune times. Like in the middle of church or something. I'm planning on shaving it all off just like Britney (you go, sister!) When I'm bald, I am going to go for the biker chick look with a do-rag and get a couple of fake tattoos. Leather vest? You bet. Then again, the pirate look is in. Argggggghhh.

I couldn't have made it this far without my hilarious friends. They've helped me by sending funny emails, driving Rachel everywhere, meeting me for appointments, bringing me food, sending weird things in the mail, or calling me throughout the week. It's incredible! I have talked to a lot of women who have survived breast cancer or who are going through chemo now. All those conversations have been so informative and uplifting. I figure, I can do this! Still, sometimes I get terrified thinking about the upcoming surgery. I know, I'm a wimp. A chicken. A pansy. So . . . .today I planted pansies so I could stop being one. Yay!

My biggest help has been my mom, Pat. If you have a chance to thank her for all she's doing, please do. She's a breast cancer survivor, too! I'm so lucky to have her close by.

I've included a picture of me in a hat sent to me by my friend, Jim, whose wrestling name is "Buck Naked". Yes, Jim, I'm wearing the hat and not much else! He writes: "If you are feeling at all self conscious, and you need to get up and go in a hurry and you don't want to draw attention to yourself, this little hat might just do the trick to help you blend into the crowd." He is such a thoughtful guy. What do you think, people? Can I get away with it?

Thanks Jim! And thanks to everyone who has made an extra effort to help me these past few weeks. Tougher times await, I know. But so far, things are going just the way I'd hoped.

Up next: head shaving party! (I might consider having a mojito)

March 23, 2007

Walking Upright Again

For the last couple of days I have been nauseated and, yes, praying to a porcelain god or two. This chemo is not for wimps. I haven't been able to eat much. Yesterday I went to the UNM Cancer Center for a second opinion by Dr. Melanie Royce, a well-known oncologist and clinician. As some of you know, I went to hear her speak at a Comadre A Comadre meeting a few weeks ago and I bird-dogged her with questions. I had already had this second opinion appointment arranged, yet I wanted some answers then, not 2 days after chemo. She was so gracious that evening and actually pulled me aside after the meeting to address some of my concerns.. On my visit yesterday, she recognized me from our earlier meeting. Then she observed that I was in bad shape and gave me this really big, expensive pill call Em-end (emesis-end) and made me lie down in one of their rooms for a half an hour! You know those exam rooms are hard to come by, but there I was, waiting for the pill to take effect. She said she couldn't do the consult unless I was coherent. So we had the consult, and she gave me some great ideas. She thinks the tumors in the two breasts may have had two different origins, and she wants them all tested for the ER, PR, and Her-2. She expects that the results will be different for different tumors, and they can treat them differently and get optimum results.

I also asked her about my prognosis, based on all the documentation I brought to her. She couldn't give me one and said it would only be a guess at this point. Here's the zinger: After my surgery (when they biopsy the tumors they remove), if everything looks like we think it looks now (Stage II, T2, N1), my prognosis will be good. If it's spread farther (Stage IIIA or IIIB), then the prognosis will be much, much worse (her words).

She also did the most interesting boob massage (paying attention now?) and all she did was unhook my bra. No gown, no formal office procedures. It was like getting felt up in high school. Alas, she was looking for lumps. She is a delicate Asian woman, and she exclaims in a high, girlish voice: "Oh, you have lumpy breasts!"

Or, as Shania would say, "I feel like a woman."

March 20, 2007

Day 1 of 265: Get me through 2007!

Today (March 20) I had my first chemo treatment. The place was in an uproar because all the docs were late coming back from some big meeting. So I arrived at 9:15 and didn't get started on chemo until 1:00. The waiting room was full, and all the chemo chairs were busy. My mom waited with me that entire time! We did see the oncologist at about 11:00 but then had to wait some more while Dr. Marshall wrote up my chemo orders. After this first time, it should go more smoothly. Tomorrow I go in for a Neulasta shot, then in a week I get more blood drawn to test my blood cell counts, and then in two weeks I'll have my second chemo.

Barb Jordan, the expert text messager, contacted me several times and then waltzed into the chemo room about forty-five minutes before I was all done. We had a chance to talk while we waited for the nurses to complete my drip and then do all the paperwork. It worked out well to have her there near the end. I had plenty of time to talk to the nurses and the dietician after my mom left and before Barb showed up. All the text messages were great, too! I will have to work on my texting speed. I am a Slowski.

For those of you with morbid curiousity, I have a port-a-cath installed in my chest and it makes the IV so much easier. I didn't feel anything. I have adriamycin and cytoxin for four treatments, then four treatments of Taxol. My hair WILL fall out. I will feel nauseated and fatigued. I won't sleep much at night, but I will be dragging during the day. I will feel achy. My immunity will be suppressed, so I can't be around crowds or sick people. There may be other symptoms, but those are the typical ones.

Today at 5 pm I feel great! But I'll update you all later. Thanks to everyone who called, wrote, sent or brought unusually large packages and small tokens, said prayers, and did the girlfriend thing to the extreme. I really appreciate it.

WHAT I KNOW FOR SURE: I never knew how many friends I had. Life is good.

Livin' with attitude!