I searched through all sorts of inspirational quotes about strength, overcoming challenges and growth in difficult times to include in this post.  But what really sums it up for me now is simply this:

“IT’S OVER!”

I was almost giddy on Monday as I waited for my last chemo treatment.  In deep contrast to my last entry, my spirits were high and my excitement was palpable.  Something had shifted inside me.  I could feel, physically feel, the changes coming.  My body and my mind were in sync; I was returning to who I was before all this began.

After my treatment, I joined the ranks of thousands of others who have spent time at MD Anderson and concluded it with a ring of the “I’m finished with treatment” bell.  The plaque above it was in honor of a previous breast cancer patient and included, in part, these words:

“She has conquered cancer. May she, and all others after her, ring this bell in victory. Through her continued fight, determination and perseverance, she has, and continues to, inspire.”

Amen, Sister!  I fought, I persevered and ultimately I achieved victory.  I have been told I inspired as well.  I am touched and honored to hear so.  But I did it all with the help and support of an amazing number of kind and generous people whom I will be thanking for a long time to come.

So what now? I feel as though this is where I am supposed to talk about the life-changing epiphanies I had as a result of this experience.  What I learned about myself, life, and the value of each day.  About taking risk and letting go of regret.  About the importance of doing the important things now.  About how there are no guarantees for health, happiness or even tomorrow.

But here’s the thing I discovered.  During chemo, you spend your time trying to get through each day, waiting to get to the end, and there isn’t a lot of room for philosophizing.  Sure, there’s time.  Lots of time lying in bed.  But thinking deep thoughts requires energy and that is something in very short supply during chemotherapy.

So how do you get to embodying the idea of “Life is short. Live each day fully” after this?  I think you have to consciously choose it and then consciously choose it again every day from then on.  It requires action, and a repeated commitment to action.  Like most deep changes, it doesn’t just happen.  It would be easy to slide back into the same as before and forget the reason for this unpleasantness.  And doing so wouldn’t be such a bad thing – certainly better than continuously bemoaning the experience or holding on to a sense of outrage over having been given such a burden in the first place.  But really growing and changing from this kind of experience requires effort.  And putting forth effort is always a choice.

So, will I choose to make changes in how I live my daily life? All I can say is, I will try. Maybe some days I’ll make the effort and some days I won’t.  Maybe sometimes I’ll get wrapped up in silly things like what I look like or what people think of me and maybe other times I’ll live only for what’s right for me, making choices based solely on my own ideas about happiness. Maybe I’ll be a complete jerk one day and the next express compassion for all of humankind.  Maybe I’ll travel and go skydiving and maybe I’ll spend a weekend in my pajamas eating ice cream and watching Netflix.   All I know is that mostly I’ll just go on being me – with all my faults and flaws, strengths and abilities – and hope that I remember to mark time, create joy and appreciate life as often as possible.  Same as before.

While my absence from this blog may raise concerns that I’ve been feeling awful again, I’m happy to say that the past two weeks have been better than expected.  At least physically.  Yes, I’m tired and weak, the bones in my back sometimes ache, I still have nausea daily and food doesn’t taste like it should, but I haven’t been vomiting, running a fever or being admitted to the hospital, so that’s definitely a win! 🙂

Oddly, I’ve been a bit low mentally, which is surprising given how close I am to the end.  I’ve been moody and emotional, crying easily at songs on the radio or commercials with puppies.  I suppose that this, too, may be some sort of side effect – either of the chemo drugs or the menopause they are sending me into (slightly) prematurely.   Yay.

At any rate, I’ve been silent because I’ve just had to put my head down and get through each day, hoping to look up and see that I’ve finally reached the end.  A friend fittingly compared it to pregnancy – even though you’re excited about the coming attraction, those last two weeks are rather miserable.  You’re just kind of over it.  So I guess that’s where I am.  I’m over feeling various degrees of ill every day.  I’m over trying to find something to eat to quell the nausea only to find that nothing really does.  I’m over the side effects that come, wreak havoc and then leave just in time for a new one to show up. I’m over looking in the mirror at my hairless head, barely-there eyebrows and missing eyelashes and figuring out a way to make them reappear so I can leave the house without drawing unwanted attention.  I’m over putting things off and missing out on things because I just don’t know how I’m going to feel that day.  And, mostly, I’m tired of being tired.

I told a friend recently that I was thinking of making a top-ten list of my side effects, trying to bring some humor to the situation.  And I’d still like to, but I’m just not there right now.  I’ll get back there, I know, and some of it is rather funny, but I don’t have the energy to be funny right now.  And that pisses me off.  Which makes me more tired.

I really want this to be the last post in which I complain about all of this.  I hadn’t wanted any of the posts to be like that, but cancer treatment can be a real pain in the @$$ and there’s just no way around it, I suppose. So, here’s hoping this is it for the negativity.  Here’s hoping the next week goes by quickly.  Here’s hoping that I’ll be able to look back on all of this and see the good again.  Here’s hoping.

 

I got some good news this weekend.  My next round of chemo would be my last!

My doctor told me last week that I would need to give myself Neupogen shots to keep up my white blood cell counts and avoid any infections after my next round of chemo.  My insurance company required the shots come from a mail-order pharmacy, and yet they had not yet been approved by last Friday and everything was closed on the weekend.  Thus, it was highly unlikely that the shots would be delivered by Tuesday (5/9/17).  In fact, according to the on-line pharmacy, it could take up to a week or two for me to get them.  My oncologist didn’t want to postpone my treatment, so she suggested we proceed with the Taxol/carboplatin as scheduled for Monday and then she would give me a Neulasta shot in her office on Wednesday.  Because Neulasta is a longer-lasting drug, it would prevent me from being able to receive my last two Taxol treatments.  Thus, Monday would be my last round of chemo!

So now the bad news.  Chemo proceeded as planned on Monday, but when I contacted my doctor about coming in for the shot, there was some confusion. As it turns out, the shots had been approved on Monday but the on-line pharmacy messed things up and failed to send them.  After multiple calls back and forth today with my doctor’s office, the pharmacist and the on-line pharmacy, we decided upon Plan B (or C?): I would receive one shot in the doctor’s office today (not the long-lasting one) and the other will be delivered to my house tomorrow for me to administer to myself.  This puts me back on my regular schedule, with two remaining Taxol treatments on the next two Mondays. Parole granted!  No, parole revoked!  Bummer.

So now I prepare to deal with the side effects of the carboplatin for this round.  What will they be? How long will they last? How badly will I feel?  Oh, the anticipation. The normal queasiness began yesterday but one new side effect is a soapy, chalky taste in my mouth.  I keep trying to find a food or something to drink that will get rid of it, but, in fact, pretty much everything tastes awful.  What a sad day when even candy, ice cream and chocolate have an unpleasant taste.  I guess that’s more bad news!

P.S. I’m feeling a little brain fog and can’t seem to explain things well, so my apologies if this entry is a bit convoluted.

 

 

I’m going to try not to dwell on the awfulness of last week, but yes, I had a(nother) rather awful week, so I’ll just put down the highlights.

At the end of my recovery from the week I spent in bed, I began to develop some new side effects.  My tongue became very sensitive, my throat was sore and my lips began to swell.  None of these were sudden, like an allergic reaction, but built gradually over the weekend.  While I found it odd that lips looking like Angelina Jolie’s were a side effect of chemo (who knew), I was generally feeling well and received my 8th round of chemo (Taxol only) last Monday.  Just before my chemo infusion, I noticed a rash developing on my chest.  It was also on my torso, but it didn’t itch, so I just chalked it up to another “little indignity” of treatment.  The infusion went fine and I was home around 9:00 p.m.

Around 5:30 the following evening, I began to get chills and feel a fever coming on.  My first temperature reading was 100.5 – Argh.  Within about 20 minutes, it had risen to 101.3 so it was back to the emergency room.

Long story short, I was admitted to the hospital Tuesday night and stayed until Friday.  The infectious disease doctors were concerned about a possible infection around the tissue expander (again), so they pumped me up with major IV antibiotics.  I also tested positive for the flu, which probably explains my miserable week before.  And the rash appeared to be in response to one of the antibiotics I had been on before entering the hospital. I also experienced several bouts of vomiting. But for me, the worst problem was that my lips were no longer just swollen.  It felt as though they had been sliced by razor blades. They hurt to be touched, even to drink from a cup or use a straw.  If I managed to  bypass my lips and drop some food into my mouth, my tender tongue made eating anything harder than oatmeal impossible.   I hate to be graphic, but I had to literally rip my lips apart upon waking in the morning, tearing skin from each lip in the process.  But if that’s not graphic enough for you, Google ‘severe mucositis images’ and prepare to lose your lunch.

After some debate between my oncology doctors and the infectious disease team, I was allowed to go home on Friday with a sack full of pills and liquids.  I had to make a chart to keep track of my medications – the ones taken twice a day, the ones four times a day, the ones for eight days, the ones for 21 days … Again, I think of people for whom medication is a daily hassle and am thankful I have not experienced this outside of cancer treatment.

Fortunately, my recovery since I’ve been home has been swifter, though not swift enough.  I had to miss an important event for one of my closest friends on Saturday when my lips were still in the Frankenstein-Licks-Barbed-Wire phase.  Those are the things I did not want this treatment to take away from me and I’m still heartbroken about it.  But my lips have healed about 75%, my mouth feels better, my appetite is good and my energy is returning.

The other good news is that I’m off the hook for Taxol this week (thanks, primarily, to another rash that developed yesterday).  The plan is to hit me with my last Taxol/Carbo combo next Monday, give me some shots to keep my blood counts up, and then knock out the last two Taxol treatments on schedule and be done.  So I have this week off, and then (hopefully) three weeks to the finish line!

While in the hospital, I whittled away some of the time watching home renovation and home buying shows.  One series helps people find affordable homes near the beach.  At the end of each episode, the new owners are shown on their deck or balcony, sipping a drink and enjoying the views.  I thought, “That’s all I want right now – to be able to sit outside with a glass of wine.”  I don’t even need the beach views or colorful sunsets.  So that’s the image I’m keeping in my mind – raising a glass to celebrate the end of this (fill in the blank) journey!