I'm over my oncologist. When I saw my surgeon last week, he was much more positive. No, it's not good that I still had cancer in my lymph nodes, but cancer was only in 2 out of 7 nodes (not 7 out of 7).
So, where am I now? I'm still dealing with one disgusting drain that keeps pumping like an oil well. Once that is removed, I'll feel more human. I did wear a regular bra today instead of the giant post-op harness I had been wearing. Oh, the simple pleasures of life. :-) I'll harness back up when I sleep tonight. It's just easier.
I'm starting to get used to seeing my post-op self. It was a huge shock the first time I looked in the mirror. It was the first time I cried since the week I was diagnosed. I knew I wouldn't look pleasant, but you really don't know what it's like until you see it. Plus, I've never had surgery where I could see the effect (wisdom don't count here). I know in a year I will look much more normal. It's just hard to see right now. Each day makes everything better.
I'm over this and ready to get back to normal. I'm more than a little tired of being home, and it's not comfortable to sleep. This has led me to doing too much and becoming exhausted. I'm going to take the next few days to recuperate.
At the moment, Charlotte is in her crib singing the "Happy Birthday" song to my sister-in-law's dog instead of sleeping. She is definitely our daughter...night owl! "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Sam-Sam, happy birthday to you!" Ha ha ha ha!
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
And the bubble goes POP!
I was very happy on Monday with the pathology report. Then I made the mistake of emailing my oncologist. I told her how happy I was with the report, and then I asked a couple questions about it. Unfortunately, she hadn't received the report yet, and I think she was peeved that I had seen it first. She told me it didn't matter that the tumor in my breast was gone, and it was not good news that cancer was found in two of the seven lymph nodes. What the hell? I was shocked. And, of course, it was like midnight when I looked at the email, which didn't help at all. I was up most of the night up thinking about it. I've come to the conclusion that there was some "stuff" under her comments, and I'm not going to let it set me back. I'm going see my surgeon, Dr. Phil, tomorrow, and I know he'll give me the information without any baggage. Tune in tomorrow for more info.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Back to a first down!
So here I sit, upright and conscious, in my sunny family room. Bea Dog is at my feet, and Erik is working in the dining room. I just sat down from a 20 minute walk. Not so bad for being four days out of surgery, huh?
I went to Holy Cross Hospital Friday morning at O'Damn Dark Hundred (6:00AM to early risers). Everyone was so nice and pleasant. I guess they can't help being nice to a 41 year old woman about to have her left boob chopped off. LOL! Seriously, all the medical staff I've encountered during this entire ordeal have been pleasant. The prep nurses ask a million questions, the most odd (to me) is whether I've been mentally or physically abused by a partner or caregiver. I usually chuckle at that one because it's inconceivable to me. Anyway...I overheard another nurse asking a woman, who had come in alone, the same question, and she said, "yes." I was astounded. I couldn't get her response out of my head. Soon after I woke up from surgery, I asked my nurse what help that woman would receive. I prayed and asked Him to walk with her and protect her. I know it happens to many woman. Somehow, in my emotionally compromised state, it hit me hard. Basically, that was the hardest part of surgery...it still bugs me. Anyway...
As their about to wheel me away, the anesthesiologist put something in my IV to help me relax. Oh yeah! I remember rolling by my surgeon and the other staff as they were scrubbing up, and I blabbed something like, "Don't screw this up dudes!" They rolled me into a frigid operating theater (germs hate the cold and so do I). I remember looking up at the lights thinking how cool the shapes were - like art. I saw an oxygen mask come down over my face, and I was out.
I woke up from surgery feeling like I was hit both ways by the round trip Express bus from Discomfort to Pain. I think my eyelashes even hurt. I wasn't nauseous, but...well...you can imagine. Not pleasant. Erik, Marjo (his mom), and Aunt Betty were there. And that's about all I remember from the first 24 hours. I know my lovely cousin Melanie came to see me, and I send my apologies to her for anything wacky/inappropriate I said during her visit. And, oh yeah, for also throwing up in front of her. Sorry, Mel!
I had a decent nurse when I was placed in my room, but Maria, my overnight nurse, was terrific. Don't get me started on the third nurse. Of course, the best nurse of all was Aunt Betty (who is actually a nurse) who stayed with Erik and I for a couple days. She and Erik made sure I took my meds, gave myself me shot of blood thinner in my stomach (ugh!), and took care of my drains. Oh, the drains...for any Star Trek fans out there...I look like the Borg Queen before she's placed in her body. The only difference is the tubes are all on my left side. I guess I also have a bit more hair now than she did. LOL!
Back to the present...
I had an appointment this morning with the surgeon's physician's assistant. Excellent clinician. She removed one of the three drains, looked at my mangled left chest (which actually doesn't look like the bad horror film makeup job I thought it would), and pronounced me in good shape. No problems with the surgery sites. I have numbness in my arm and hand and crazy charlie horses all around my body, but otherwise I'm a-OK.
I also received the pathology report from the surgery. I had no sign of a tumor in my breast - all GONE! My Fightin' Women did their jobs there! Seven lymph nodes were removed from under my arm, and two still showed signs of cancer. However, there was no sign of cancer in the fat tissue around the nodes, which is very good. Most likely there was no movement to any other part of my body and a significant decrease in size of what was left. So, instead being an A+ patient, I'm an A patient. Se la vie. ;-)
Where to we go from here? Forward! I actually feel like a human being again today. Erik and I stopped for lunch on our way home from the doc, and I walked outside for about 20 minutes when we returned home. Feeling much better. I've decreased my pain meds from two Percoset ever four hours to one Percoset and one Tylenol every six to eight hours. I've also had a little ibuprofen here and there for muscle aches. My body unconsciously tenses my shoulder and back muscles with pain. But I don't have much pain anymore. And I have had THE wackiest dreams...Jennifer - You and Andre now skydive as a regular means of transportation, and a colleague in the Florida Keys rescued me from a pink, 1970s, Hello Kitty tricked out van. OMG! Hysterical!
Thanks to everyone for the love and support and flowers and food and shopping spree and help you give! Thanks to my wonderful husband (Everyone needs an Edgar.) who constantly reminds me that it is what it is, and we'll come out just fine on the other side. Thanks for my wonderful family who have swept Charlotte up in their love and care so Erik and I could focus on getting through this.
And why "Back to first down"? The first drive down the field toward the goal was the chemo. Made it through just fine. The second first down drive was the surgery. Made forward progress and just got the 10. The third first down drive is the radiation. The last drive will be the next 2-5 years. Life, like football, is a game of inches. As Al Pacino said, in Any Given Sunday, "On this team, we fight for that inch. On this team, we tear ourselves, and everyone around us to pieces for that inch. We CLAW with our finger nails for that inch. Cause we know when we add up all those inches that's going to make the fucking difference
between WINNING and LOSING between LIVING and DYING."
Amen!
Al's speech www.youtube.com/watch?v=WO4tIrjBDkk
I went to Holy Cross Hospital Friday morning at O'Damn Dark Hundred (6:00AM to early risers). Everyone was so nice and pleasant. I guess they can't help being nice to a 41 year old woman about to have her left boob chopped off. LOL! Seriously, all the medical staff I've encountered during this entire ordeal have been pleasant. The prep nurses ask a million questions, the most odd (to me) is whether I've been mentally or physically abused by a partner or caregiver. I usually chuckle at that one because it's inconceivable to me. Anyway...I overheard another nurse asking a woman, who had come in alone, the same question, and she said, "yes." I was astounded. I couldn't get her response out of my head. Soon after I woke up from surgery, I asked my nurse what help that woman would receive. I prayed and asked Him to walk with her and protect her. I know it happens to many woman. Somehow, in my emotionally compromised state, it hit me hard. Basically, that was the hardest part of surgery...it still bugs me. Anyway...
As their about to wheel me away, the anesthesiologist put something in my IV to help me relax. Oh yeah! I remember rolling by my surgeon and the other staff as they were scrubbing up, and I blabbed something like, "Don't screw this up dudes!" They rolled me into a frigid operating theater (germs hate the cold and so do I). I remember looking up at the lights thinking how cool the shapes were - like art. I saw an oxygen mask come down over my face, and I was out.
I woke up from surgery feeling like I was hit both ways by the round trip Express bus from Discomfort to Pain. I think my eyelashes even hurt. I wasn't nauseous, but...well...you can imagine. Not pleasant. Erik, Marjo (his mom), and Aunt Betty were there. And that's about all I remember from the first 24 hours. I know my lovely cousin Melanie came to see me, and I send my apologies to her for anything wacky/inappropriate I said during her visit. And, oh yeah, for also throwing up in front of her. Sorry, Mel!
I had a decent nurse when I was placed in my room, but Maria, my overnight nurse, was terrific. Don't get me started on the third nurse. Of course, the best nurse of all was Aunt Betty (who is actually a nurse) who stayed with Erik and I for a couple days. She and Erik made sure I took my meds, gave myself me shot of blood thinner in my stomach (ugh!), and took care of my drains. Oh, the drains...for any Star Trek fans out there...I look like the Borg Queen before she's placed in her body. The only difference is the tubes are all on my left side. I guess I also have a bit more hair now than she did. LOL!
Back to the present...
I had an appointment this morning with the surgeon's physician's assistant. Excellent clinician. She removed one of the three drains, looked at my mangled left chest (which actually doesn't look like the bad horror film makeup job I thought it would), and pronounced me in good shape. No problems with the surgery sites. I have numbness in my arm and hand and crazy charlie horses all around my body, but otherwise I'm a-OK.
I also received the pathology report from the surgery. I had no sign of a tumor in my breast - all GONE! My Fightin' Women did their jobs there! Seven lymph nodes were removed from under my arm, and two still showed signs of cancer. However, there was no sign of cancer in the fat tissue around the nodes, which is very good. Most likely there was no movement to any other part of my body and a significant decrease in size of what was left. So, instead being an A+ patient, I'm an A patient. Se la vie. ;-)
Where to we go from here? Forward! I actually feel like a human being again today. Erik and I stopped for lunch on our way home from the doc, and I walked outside for about 20 minutes when we returned home. Feeling much better. I've decreased my pain meds from two Percoset ever four hours to one Percoset and one Tylenol every six to eight hours. I've also had a little ibuprofen here and there for muscle aches. My body unconsciously tenses my shoulder and back muscles with pain. But I don't have much pain anymore. And I have had THE wackiest dreams...Jennifer - You and Andre now skydive as a regular means of transportation, and a colleague in the Florida Keys rescued me from a pink, 1970s, Hello Kitty tricked out van. OMG! Hysterical!
Thanks to everyone for the love and support and flowers and food and shopping spree and help you give! Thanks to my wonderful husband (Everyone needs an Edgar.) who constantly reminds me that it is what it is, and we'll come out just fine on the other side. Thanks for my wonderful family who have swept Charlotte up in their love and care so Erik and I could focus on getting through this.
And why "Back to first down"? The first drive down the field toward the goal was the chemo. Made it through just fine. The second first down drive was the surgery. Made forward progress and just got the 10. The third first down drive is the radiation. The last drive will be the next 2-5 years. Life, like football, is a game of inches. As Al Pacino said, in Any Given Sunday, "On this team, we fight for that inch. On this team, we tear ourselves, and everyone around us to pieces for that inch. We CLAW with our finger nails for that inch. Cause we know when we add up all those inches that's going to make the fucking difference
between WINNING and LOSING between LIVING and DYING."
Amen!
Al's speech www.youtube.com/watch?v=WO4tIrjBDkk
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Long time
Wow, it's been a long time since I've posted anything. My apologies to those of you who keep checking and have found no new entries.
I'm doing well. My last chemo was April 21st and, and while it's been a long uphill climb since then, I'm finally back to feeling good. I've been on the treadmill a couple times this week, and I've lost a couple pounds. My stress eating has stopped, and I have more energy.
I had testing for the BRCA I and BRCA II genes, the ones identified to cause breast and ovarian cancer, and I was negative! So, no one knows why I got cancer at age 40. Shocker, to quote my wonderful husband. I've heard everything in your body starts to fall apart at 40. LOL! I certainly didn't expect this.
I'm off to see the plastic surgeon tomorrow ("I'm off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of boobs..."), and I hope to come away with a date for my mastectomy. I'm tired of waiting. Now that I'm not so fuzzy-brained, I'm back to my 'want it done yesterday' self. I also think that also comes from moving beyond being scared.
I'm really proud of my body, and how it has taken the chemo and kicked the h-e-!-! out of the tumor. While I'm not out of the woods yet, I can see the field in the distance. I feel powerful and happy.
Wow... I was just overcome by a vivid memory when I wrote the above. I used to go hunting for deer, pheasant, and quail with my dad (I never killed anything and would never let him either. After a while, he started bringing his camera too since I wouldn't let him shoot anything). We would tramp through the woods or the cornfield to find the perfect spot to sit and wait for deer, etc. I just had a vision of walking out of the woods that ringed the cornfield on one of the farms where we hunted. It's making me teary-eyed, but in a very good way. Those time with my dad were some of my favorites. Anyway...
So, my plan is to have surgery soon, recover for 4-6 weeks, and then have seven weeks of radiation. Hopefully, my plan is the docs' plan, and my body cooperates. I'll have radiation treatments every work day, for about 40 minutes, at an office close to home and work. The primary side effects of radiation are sun burned/blistered skin and tiredness. I'm hoping to avoid the latter. I'm done with being tired. I'm so ready, mentally, to move on.
So then what? Well, to keep The Evil from coming back, I'll most likely take Tamoxifen everyday and implement a variety of changes - exercise most days of the week, up the intake of veggies and lessen the intake of sugar (yes, you heard me right, Molly has to stop the chocolate), take my vitamins, take a low-dose aspirin, do the hokey pokey and turn myself around... :-) While it may seems like a lot to do (does to me at times), it will be so worth it. I'm not doing this again.
So that's it for me. Erik and I are celebrating our 16th wedding anniversary tonight. I view every birthday and anniversary with more excitement than I did BC (before cancer). I got it good!
Charlotte is growing and changing like crazy. She has a huge vocabulary and now refers to our home as "my house." And she's not wrong. ;-)
I'm doing well. My last chemo was April 21st and, and while it's been a long uphill climb since then, I'm finally back to feeling good. I've been on the treadmill a couple times this week, and I've lost a couple pounds. My stress eating has stopped, and I have more energy.
I had testing for the BRCA I and BRCA II genes, the ones identified to cause breast and ovarian cancer, and I was negative! So, no one knows why I got cancer at age 40. Shocker, to quote my wonderful husband. I've heard everything in your body starts to fall apart at 40. LOL! I certainly didn't expect this.
I'm off to see the plastic surgeon tomorrow ("I'm off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of boobs..."), and I hope to come away with a date for my mastectomy. I'm tired of waiting. Now that I'm not so fuzzy-brained, I'm back to my 'want it done yesterday' self. I also think that also comes from moving beyond being scared.
I'm really proud of my body, and how it has taken the chemo and kicked the h-e-!-! out of the tumor. While I'm not out of the woods yet, I can see the field in the distance. I feel powerful and happy.
Wow... I was just overcome by a vivid memory when I wrote the above. I used to go hunting for deer, pheasant, and quail with my dad (I never killed anything and would never let him either. After a while, he started bringing his camera too since I wouldn't let him shoot anything). We would tramp through the woods or the cornfield to find the perfect spot to sit and wait for deer, etc. I just had a vision of walking out of the woods that ringed the cornfield on one of the farms where we hunted. It's making me teary-eyed, but in a very good way. Those time with my dad were some of my favorites. Anyway...
So, my plan is to have surgery soon, recover for 4-6 weeks, and then have seven weeks of radiation. Hopefully, my plan is the docs' plan, and my body cooperates. I'll have radiation treatments every work day, for about 40 minutes, at an office close to home and work. The primary side effects of radiation are sun burned/blistered skin and tiredness. I'm hoping to avoid the latter. I'm done with being tired. I'm so ready, mentally, to move on.
So then what? Well, to keep The Evil from coming back, I'll most likely take Tamoxifen everyday and implement a variety of changes - exercise most days of the week, up the intake of veggies and lessen the intake of sugar (yes, you heard me right, Molly has to stop the chocolate), take my vitamins, take a low-dose aspirin, do the hokey pokey and turn myself around... :-) While it may seems like a lot to do (does to me at times), it will be so worth it. I'm not doing this again.
So that's it for me. Erik and I are celebrating our 16th wedding anniversary tonight. I view every birthday and anniversary with more excitement than I did BC (before cancer). I got it good!
Charlotte is growing and changing like crazy. She has a huge vocabulary and now refers to our home as "my house." And she's not wrong. ;-)
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Another week to wait
Jane, my wonderful oncology nurse, called me today. She usually calls the day before my chemo appointment to tell me how wonderful my "numbers" are from my blood test and to remind me to show up on time for chemo. Today, she said my white blood count was very low, and I would have to wait a week for my last chemo session. Oddly, I'm disappointed.
Why am I disappointed, you ask? Because my otherwise perfect recovery is now tainted, and I am, once again, reminded I'm not Wonder Woman. I wish I knew why I have this drive to be perfect at everything. And why on Earth do I feel the need to be the perfect cancer patient. And what the hell does that even mean? I have cancer for Pete's sake! (Who IS Pete anyway?) I should be happy I haven't spend the last 14 weeks puking up my guts. And don't get me wrong, I'm very happy and grateful about how I've fared in the whole process and the wonderful support I've received. I just can't wrap my head around this feeling. Crazy!
Today a group of my favorite people at work threw a "Congratulations! Tomorrow is your last day of chemo" party for me. It was wonderful!!! As I told my boss, it's my first ever surprise party. Even with all the hints I had, I still didn't have a clue my budget meeting was going to consist of great people, fabulous cupcakes, pink and white M&Ms, and presents. You think I would have figured something was up when I saw "Harrison, et al re: Budget" on my boss's calendar and was told, "It must be another Harrison" by one person and "It must be a mistake. His calendar says, 'Hold' at that time" by another person. I'm the only Harrison I know who hits him up for money. LOL! Didn't even phase me. Jennifer, you can thank my chemo brain. That and knowing how ahead of the game you are on stuff made me not even think twice about an early budget meeting. ;-)
And so, after writing the previous paragraph, I have to laugh at the one before it. I have such wonderful people in my life who like me just the way I am and don't expect me to walk into work sporting a weird semi-bikini outfit, blue cape and boots, and a star tiara. I do like Wonder Woman's bullet-repelling bracelets, however, and may have to snag a pair of those to go with my work uniform of turtlenecks and plaid pants. ;-)
Why am I disappointed, you ask? Because my otherwise perfect recovery is now tainted, and I am, once again, reminded I'm not Wonder Woman. I wish I knew why I have this drive to be perfect at everything. And why on Earth do I feel the need to be the perfect cancer patient. And what the hell does that even mean? I have cancer for Pete's sake! (Who IS Pete anyway?) I should be happy I haven't spend the last 14 weeks puking up my guts. And don't get me wrong, I'm very happy and grateful about how I've fared in the whole process and the wonderful support I've received. I just can't wrap my head around this feeling. Crazy!
Today a group of my favorite people at work threw a "Congratulations! Tomorrow is your last day of chemo" party for me. It was wonderful!!! As I told my boss, it's my first ever surprise party. Even with all the hints I had, I still didn't have a clue my budget meeting was going to consist of great people, fabulous cupcakes, pink and white M&Ms, and presents. You think I would have figured something was up when I saw "Harrison, et al re: Budget" on my boss's calendar and was told, "It must be another Harrison" by one person and "It must be a mistake. His calendar says, 'Hold' at that time" by another person. I'm the only Harrison I know who hits him up for money. LOL! Didn't even phase me. Jennifer, you can thank my chemo brain. That and knowing how ahead of the game you are on stuff made me not even think twice about an early budget meeting. ;-)
And so, after writing the previous paragraph, I have to laugh at the one before it. I have such wonderful people in my life who like me just the way I am and don't expect me to walk into work sporting a weird semi-bikini outfit, blue cape and boots, and a star tiara. I do like Wonder Woman's bullet-repelling bracelets, however, and may have to snag a pair of those to go with my work uniform of turtlenecks and plaid pants. ;-)
Monday, April 4, 2011
Where are they now?
So, where is that damned tumor and those infected lymph nodes now? Not anywhere anyone can feel. Woo hoo! I'm sure there is something there, but I'll need scans to find it. Much better than the big-ass "stuff" that was there before.
Seven chemo treatments down and 1 more to go. These 13 weeks have certainly passed quickly. I tell ya', even with all my positive thinking, eight chemo treatments seemed like a helluva lot to go through in the beginning. Time has been reduced to two week increments and "good" days and "bad" days. For the first time in my life, I'm taking things one day at a time - definitely a weird paradigm shift. No more wishing it was tomorrow, or two weeks from now, or vacation time, or Christmas, or whatever. Waking up today is enough.
The second chemo "medicine" is treating me fairly well except for the joint and muscle pain I have for a couple days afterward. I've graduated to Tylenol 3+codeine to manage it. The last time I took anything that strong I was 16 and had 4 wisdom teeth pulled. I was also skin and bones and immobilized by one tablet. LOL! I'm also dealing with some neuropathy (numbness) in my feet. However, I don't plan to walk on any hot coals anytime soon. :-)
There are still plenty of days when I feel like hell. There. I've said it...admitted it "out loud." The days I'm in pain are easy to see, but the other days I keep hidden from everyone. Anyone who has dealt with a life threatening condition knows what I mean. It's a deep, deep feeling you can't even share with your significant other or your best friends. You've looked on the other side, and it stays with you. I now know what my mom and dad dealt with when they were sick. I don't feel sorry for myself. I do continue to kick myself for thinking it could never happen to me. How could I have been so arrogant? I totally let this one sideswipe me. I'm generally not a person who gets mired in regret, but this is going to sit with me for a while.
I've watched a lot of TV lately, and I've seen Matt Lauer ask Michael Douglas how cancer has changed him. Every time I see it, I ask myself the same question. It's too early to tell, really. I feel differently about a few things, but I'm not sure if those will stick with me over time. I did start to get spun up about something work-related on Friday, and I told myself to stop being stupid. It worked. First time ever. I was the queen of making mountains out of mole hills and obsessing over crap. Boggles my mind now.
OK - I'm done philosophizing. ;-) Talk to y'all real soon.
P.S. I just ran spell check on this post, and the only word caught in the first paragraph was the "hoo" of "woo hoo." Why "hoo?" Why not "woo" too? Is "woo" a word, but "hoo" isn't? I feel like I'm in a Dr. Seuss book...
Seven chemo treatments down and 1 more to go. These 13 weeks have certainly passed quickly. I tell ya', even with all my positive thinking, eight chemo treatments seemed like a helluva lot to go through in the beginning. Time has been reduced to two week increments and "good" days and "bad" days. For the first time in my life, I'm taking things one day at a time - definitely a weird paradigm shift. No more wishing it was tomorrow, or two weeks from now, or vacation time, or Christmas, or whatever. Waking up today is enough.
The second chemo "medicine" is treating me fairly well except for the joint and muscle pain I have for a couple days afterward. I've graduated to Tylenol 3+codeine to manage it. The last time I took anything that strong I was 16 and had 4 wisdom teeth pulled. I was also skin and bones and immobilized by one tablet. LOL! I'm also dealing with some neuropathy (numbness) in my feet. However, I don't plan to walk on any hot coals anytime soon. :-)
There are still plenty of days when I feel like hell. There. I've said it...admitted it "out loud." The days I'm in pain are easy to see, but the other days I keep hidden from everyone. Anyone who has dealt with a life threatening condition knows what I mean. It's a deep, deep feeling you can't even share with your significant other or your best friends. You've looked on the other side, and it stays with you. I now know what my mom and dad dealt with when they were sick. I don't feel sorry for myself. I do continue to kick myself for thinking it could never happen to me. How could I have been so arrogant? I totally let this one sideswipe me. I'm generally not a person who gets mired in regret, but this is going to sit with me for a while.
I've watched a lot of TV lately, and I've seen Matt Lauer ask Michael Douglas how cancer has changed him. Every time I see it, I ask myself the same question. It's too early to tell, really. I feel differently about a few things, but I'm not sure if those will stick with me over time. I did start to get spun up about something work-related on Friday, and I told myself to stop being stupid. It worked. First time ever. I was the queen of making mountains out of mole hills and obsessing over crap. Boggles my mind now.
OK - I'm done philosophizing. ;-) Talk to y'all real soon.
P.S. I just ran spell check on this post, and the only word caught in the first paragraph was the "hoo" of "woo hoo." Why "hoo?" Why not "woo" too? Is "woo" a word, but "hoo" isn't? I feel like I'm in a Dr. Seuss book...
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Has it been that long?
It's been a while since I posted anything...time truly flies. I'm sure you're all anxiously awaiting my latest words of wisdom, aren't you. ;-) LOL!
In actuality, time does fly when you measure it in two week intervals like I have been since the first week in January. And every two weeks is different. So, where am I in this process? I just finished chemo treatment number 6. This is the second treatment in the second medicine/poison regime (Taxol). Last time, I had significant muscle and joint aches starting the afternoon of the Saturday after chemo. Here it is Saturday evening after the second treatment, and I'm relatively ok. I can feel the aches starting, but it's definitely better.
And that's how the process is going...definitely better. The tumor is smaller, and the lymph nodes are almost all back to normal. I'll end chemo in mid-April, and the best outcome is to have all the tumor and the lymph nodes gone.
Thanks to everyone for all the positive energy coming my way. I can't say enough how lucky I've been to have everyone behind me. You truly find out who your friends are in times like this.
In actuality, time does fly when you measure it in two week intervals like I have been since the first week in January. And every two weeks is different. So, where am I in this process? I just finished chemo treatment number 6. This is the second treatment in the second medicine/poison regime (Taxol). Last time, I had significant muscle and joint aches starting the afternoon of the Saturday after chemo. Here it is Saturday evening after the second treatment, and I'm relatively ok. I can feel the aches starting, but it's definitely better.
And that's how the process is going...definitely better. The tumor is smaller, and the lymph nodes are almost all back to normal. I'll end chemo in mid-April, and the best outcome is to have all the tumor and the lymph nodes gone.
Thanks to everyone for all the positive energy coming my way. I can't say enough how lucky I've been to have everyone behind me. You truly find out who your friends are in times like this.
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