Posts Tagged ‘chemotherapy’

02
Aug
2012

Red Counts and Blood Transfusions

I’ve promised to tell you the truth and not sugarcoat it. Well, here it is. Cancer still sucks. These past few weeks have been rough. In fact, as I write this, I have a horrible stomach-ache. It’s not your everyday, run of the mill stomach pains either. It feels as if all of the food I consumed over the last week is sitting at the base of my ribs. When it decides to travel through my digestive system, it punches every inch of intestines. My whole core aches. My mouth is sour. Gross, huh?

An ER visit, multiple infections, and dropped blood levels have all plagued me this past month. Not to mention the typical overall crappy feeling that haunts most of my days. Let me add, I really hate to complain, but I would be doing a disservice to myself and all of you if I were to act like everything was fine all the time. Every cancer journey has its share of ups and downs, it just seems that the end of my treatment road has had more potholes than smooth pavement. However, I do know it could be worse, and I have been blessed throughout even the most difficult moments. I’ve got to keep reminding myself of that.

My trip to the ER brought eye-opening results. It’s amazing what cancer treatment can do to your body. It boggles my mind that something that decimates the inside of my tissues, cells, and organs can be, at the same time, saving my life. A few weeks ago, after on-going, not ceasing, severe kidney pain, my sweet husband took me to the emergency room. Can’t we all agree that emergency rooms aren’t the most fun place to be in the hospital? I’d much rather be on the labor and delivery floor! So I digress… After a blood draw and culture, urine analysis, physical internal exam, and CT scan, it was determined that I had Hydronephrosis and a very low white blood count. (So you don’t have to leave my page to scan Wikipedia for a definition, I’ll share it with you. Hydronephrosis means essentially, fluid in and around the kidney.) In addition, my white blood count was at a staggering .42. To understand how truly low that is, I can tell you that the normal range is anywhere from 4 to 11. This obviously alerted and perplexed my nurses. My white blood count had never gotten that low throughout all of chemotherapy and radiation. I can tell you with deep sincerity, I felt like shit.

As most ER visits go, we were there most of the day. Although, like I mentioned before, through even the hardest times, God has blessed me. We were at the same hospital that I receive all of my regular treatment at, and the one at which all of my doctors practice. Therefore, my attending nurse was able to call and chat with my oncologist about my symptoms and test results. Worst case, my oncologist was just a short walk away from being by my side. For that, I’m grateful. God always works things together for my good. After many hours of chit-chat between the nurses and my oncologist, they determined that I should probably be admitted. In fact, I was able to speak to my doctor and she said they even had a room saved for me. I can’t even begin to express how much I did NOT want to stay the night at the hospital. I didn’t care if they had a suite reserved! The nurses got my point, and I can proudly say, my stubbornness won out. I was eventually discharged with the orders that I turn right around if my pain got worse and if I got a fever. Luckily, neither happened. Well, not the fever at least.

I have been pretty in-tune with my body as I have grown up. In fact, it’s saved my life. Had I not continued to press for answers and made several trips to multiple doctors, only God knows where I would be right now. Although my cancer was treated at stage three, it could have been worse. Because of my oneness and understanding of my body, I’m able to know when my blood counts get low. Some people don’t have a clue, but as my knowledge for how my body works and is affected by treatment, I can nearly pinpoint what levels are down. For instance, I can tell you that today my reds are suffering. When my whites are low, I feel like I have a bad case of the flu. Complete with body aches, skin sensitivity, and a general “sick” feeling. When my reds are low I feel like a fat kid trying to run a marathon. I’m always out of breath, and simple things like taking a shower or walking up the stairs feel like a two-hour intense cardio workout. Needless to say, I haven’t showered today. Pounding headaches are also common when my reds are lacking. Good news is, there is a benefit of learning how to be harmonic with your insides. When you know what’s wrong, you know how to better treat it. That’s unfortunately another downside of treatment. When my blood levels are down, there’s not much I can do. Treatment for low white blood cells are the self-administered shots you have heard me distastefully talk about. Luckily, they typically work great to boost my whites. However, reds are trickier. And boy, have I discovered that recently. One of the main prescriptions for low red blood cells is a blood transfusion. If you have known anyone who has been through chemotherapy, you know that transfusions are common. I’ve been blessed to not even have had a conversation with my care providers about a blood transfusion…until this week.

A week ago I had a regular follow-up blood draw. This is not uncommon. In fact, the week after every chemotherapy round, my blood gets drawn in order to watch and better regulate my levels and prevent them from getting too low. It goes without saying, that I’m at the hospital nearly every single week, if not multiple times weekly. This past blood draw, all of my levels were lower than expected. Especially my reds. Most definitely my reds. They were low enough that my nurses brought the words “blood transfusion” into the conversation. They gave me two choices, receive a transfusion in the next few days, or wait it out and see if they came up naturally. Never having a transfusion before, and being given those two options, you can probably guess what my decision was. Correct. Let’s just wait and see! After all, I’m so close to the end of treatment, and I would like to avoid a procedure like that any day. A few days later, I went back in to get another draw. My red blood count didn’t come up enough. According to my nurses, a blood transfusion was the best and only option at this point. To say I was scared would be an understatement.

To be redundant, blood transfusions are fairly common during chemotherapy treatment. They are used for a wide variety of other ailments as well. The procedure consists of transfusing a donor’s blood into the patient in order to replace and improve lost components of the patient’s blood. I like to think of it as someone else giving me their blood cells to team up with mine, and in turn help me feel better. When thinking about the procedure itself and knowing how many people need transfusions to boost their red blood cells (approximately 85 million units of blood are transfused every year), a deeper sense of gratitude has been born in me. So, if you’re on the fence about donating blood, do it. It can help people like me feel a whole lot better! Although there are many obvious and immediate benefits of receiving a transfusion, it still scared me to think about it. Never learning about them before caused many fearful thoughts to race in my head. “How do I know the blood they put in my body is not infected or diseased?”, “Is it going to hurt?”, “I don’t want someone else’s blood mixing with mine!”. And, although I trust my nurses completely, I wanted to hear my oncologists view on the procedure and called to leave her a message. You know you have a good doctor when they call you back after office hours and after a long day of surgery, to answer your questions and calm your nerves. My doctor and I talked in length all about the procedure. She not only explained that the risk of contracting any disease is less than 1%, but that it’s a fairly easy process. In fact, the hospital has an out-patient blood transfusion wing. In addition, she said that because of my age, and because my symptoms aren’t too severe, I could probably avoid having one altogether. She explained that my chemo nurses are typically quick to recommend transfusions because they understand how much better the patient feels after receiving one. It’s a good thing to have nurses who want you to feel better. I’m just thankful that my doctor believes in me and my body’s ability to recover quicker than that of someone older. Age is in my favor again! She did, however, explain that if my levels haven’t naturally risen by the time I have chemotherapy next Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, that I will need to get one. I’m fine with that, doc! Please pray with me that God drastically multiplies my red blood cell counts by Monday. I know He can do it. He is for me, not against me.

With all of this being said, I am going through an intensifying battle. My journey has only gotten harder and harder. I’d like to say it’s rare to experience this, but unfortunately chemo has proven with many, if not all patients, to be cumulative. I knew that fact going into it, but it’s a different story when you are in the midst of the storm. The end is the most difficult; for many reasons. I know my last treatment is less than a week away, and that’s so exciting, don’t get me wrong. However, the pain and discomfort is mounting and sometimes it takes everything in me to overlook my physical despair and focus on the light at the end of the tunnel. Being a Christian isn’t easy. It doesn’t guarantee a pain-free and easy life. In fact, I believe it’s harder to follow God than follow the world. It requires accountability. It requires faith. Faith itself means “complete trust or confidence in someone or something.” When I get emotionally down, which I continually fight against daily, God convicts me. Do I or do I not have faith? Taking one day at a time, today I’m choosing to say, “I do.”

Psalm 42:5-8 (The Message)

“Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul? Why are you crying the blues? Fix my eyes on God- soon I’ll be praising again. He puts a smile on my face. He’s my God. When my soul is in the dumps, I rehearse everything I know of you. From Jordan depths to Hermon heights, including Mount Mizar. Chaos calls to chaos, to the tune of whitewater rapids. Your breaking surf, your thundering breakers crash and crush me. Then God promises to love me all day, sing songs all through the night! My life is God’s prayer.”

29
Jun
2012

Bye Bye, Lasers

I’ve been gone for some time now, huh?! I definitely have to attribute that to the awesome week off that I was able to enjoy away from treatment.

It’s official! I completed my final round of radiation on June 14th, and what a relief that was! I knew I didn’t like radiation throughout it, but now that I don’t have to go every single day, the truth is sinking in. I truly despise it! I’m very much aware that although I despise laser beams shooting the crap out of my body, I am also very grateful for it because it’s a key piece in my treatment journey. But now it’s over and I’m done talking about it for a while. Plus, I’m sure you’ve heard me rant enough about how much radiation sucks… Nothing’s changed.

Here’s a quick and summarized update about what’s happened since you last heard from me three weeks ago:

  • My husband and I celebrated our two year wedding anniversary, and it was glorious. I’m continually reminded of why I married this man, and I will always be grateful that he chose to share his life with me. He surprised me the whole night, beginning with a romantic dinner at Maggiano’s in downtown Denver. We then stopped by a private party that a wonderful friend invited us to, where we had the rare and amazing opportunity to meet Coach George Karl of the Denver Nuggets. As most of you know, he is a fellow cancer soldier and survivor and to hear him tell me personally, “Keep kickin cancer’s ass, and have fun with it” was a true blessing. Following our rendezvous with the coach, we headed over to the Garner Galleria to watch the musical “I Love You, You’re Perfect, Now Change!”. If you haven’t had the chance to see it yet, you should. It was hilarious, and exactly what I needed to lift my spirits and keep me in the present. Oh, how I love my husband and how thoughtful he is.
  • My youngest brother is in town, and we’ve had the opportunity to spend some much needed time together. He graduated college in May, and is enjoying his last summer of freedom before the “real world” starts. He’s also been a great help in entertaining my husband and getting him out, about, and away from all of the cancer hubbub. After all, guys will always need “guy night”. And through all of this, my husband deserves every single one he wants to have!
  • With a 10 day reprieve from treatment, we were also able to spend quality time with our best friends. We love them tremendously, and have no clue what we would do without their love, encouragement, and support. And not only have we been able to spend time with them, but with a lot of our other friends as well. I actually felt like a real person again, and not just a science experiment drudging through cancer treatments every day! Seeing our friends has helped me keep my head on straight. In addition, we’ve been able to spend time with my two nanny families. Seeing my kiddos brightens my day every single time I get to be with them. Kids will always have that effect on both Matt and I.

Now that radiation is over, a lot of you have asked where things are going now. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of this week, I finished another round of chemotherapy. These rounds are identical to my very first three. Three days on chemo and two weeks off- three days on, two weeks off- and three days on, two weeks off. I should be completely done with all of my treatment by mid August! The end is in sight! As weird as it may sound, I’m excited to be back in the regular swing of things with my sole treatment being chemotherapy now. It’s a little more predictable, and I feel slightly more prepared to handle it this time. One thing I forgot about, or rather tried to block from my mind, were the shots I used to have to give myself when my blood cell counts got too low. Well, I was reminded again after this week of treatment that Neupogen shots are a part of my reality. My white blood cells were low this week, so I was given four shots to take home and self-administer over the next four days. I detest these shots, but I do know that they help me feel better. For that, I’m grateful.

Please continue to pray for my strength through this last leg of the adventure, that side effects remain by the way-side, and that my emotions remain on top of the hill and not in the valley. This is one tough journey!

1 Peter 5:8-11 (Message Version)

“Keep a cool head. Stay alert. The Devil is poised to pounce, and would like nothing better than to catch you napping. Keep your guard up. You’re not the only ones plunged into these hard times. It’s the same with Christians all over the world. So keep a firm grip on the faith. The suffering won’t last forever. It won’t be long before this generous God who has great plans for us in Christ—eternal and glorious plans they are!—will have you put together and on your feet for good. He gets the last word; yes, he does.”

04
Jun
2012

Burnin’ Urine

Can someone call the whaaaambulance for me? I’m about to be a whiner.

Treatment has been so not fun lately, folks. Although, considering what I’m going through, my body has been handling all of this poison fairly well. I still have yet to throw up, however, I’ve definitely stepped into a new level of feeling like utter crap. I was so encouraged throughout the beginning half of my treatment plan because I had loads of energy, wasn’t getting sick often, and generally felt pretty good. Like I mentioned in my last post, radiation is a complete game changer. Here’s an analogy: Say you get sea-sick on boats. Radiation is like adding a torrential thunderstorm into the mix. Dealing with sea-sickness isn’t so bad, but when the boat starts rocking uncontrollably, and the rain and lightening begins, you just want to get to shore. Shore=the end of treatment. I’m so ready to get to the shore.

Before I continue, let me warn and remind you that I will be blunt sometimes. Now is one of those times. Parental discretion is advised! I’m sharing my journey right? This isn’t just rainbows all the time, friends. I’ve got to shed light on the dark clouds, too. That being said… Radiation side-effects took full hold of me about 9 days ago. In fact, all fluff aside, they kicked my ass pretty hard for a few days. I’m managing fairly well now, but those first few days were hell. I would never wish this type of pain on anyone. Without getting too graphic, (although I’m sure some of you will think this is graphic enough), it felt like I was urinating acid. Mind you, radiation’s purpose is to kill all the cells in the localized area. It’s definitely doing it’s job. They have the beams aimed at my pelvic region which includes all my lady parts, the space where my reproductive parts used to hang out, and my bladder. Let me give you a different perspective. My oncologist won’t even do an exam for a couple of months after my radiation treatments are done. She won’t even go near that area because the cells are so entirely wrecked. I don’t blame her, I wouldn’t get that close to me right now, either! Back to the bladder, in case you haven’t had enough description. Acid. Pure acid. For women (or men) who have experienced urinary tract infections, you can slightly understand the pain. There’s an upside to this type of pain, however. It only comes when urinating, and goes away until I need to empty my bladder again. Like I said, the first few days were awful. I shouldn’t admit this, but I’m being transparent here- I actually screamed a few times while using the restroom. Needless to say, my husband was pretty shocked at the extent of pain I was in! After some research, we discovered ways to ease the pain, and I’m so very grateful that they have worked thus far. In fact, I can proudly announce that I rarely experience pain while using the restroom anymore! Pray that continues! I’ve got 8 more radiation treatments. I can do this.

As a side note for those who read my blog who may have a family member going through a cancer journey of their own, or for those who are in this fight with me: Please understand my intention is not to scare, frighten, or cause anxiety for you. All of our side-effects and treatments are different. You may react completely opposite than I have. My purpose in writing this blog has been to shine light on topics that doctors simply can not share with you, as they (most likely) have not personally fought this battle. There are things we experience that no one can understand. My sharing “technique” is to be as up-front as possible. It also helps those not knowing what I’m experiencing to better pray for me. Another reason I shine light on all aspects of my journey is because it’s just that: a journey. Stories have ups and downs, and who I am to act like things are perfect all the time? I am eternally grateful for my faith in the Lord. A dear friend recently encouraged me by saying, “God has not changed in the middle of our weakness and feeling like crap. All the prayers that have been prayed for you are still producing in the Kingdom of God for you.” Praise God, that that is the TRUTH! Although, I have bad days (as you will as well), God never changes. He remains the same strong, compassionate, caring, loving friend who fights for us with all He’s got. He’s my lion bursting forth his roars against the enemy, protecting me fiercely. Take heed in that, my fellow survivors.

The whining section of this entry is over…Phew! Let’s continue on to some really great news. A wonderful friend of mine works for the hospital where I am receiving treatment. With her immense help, they have decided to follow my story on their social media sites and the main hospital website. How cool is that!? She has visited me during treatment a couple of times to interview me regarding my path thus far. Let me just say, for those who have never been interviewed on or off camera, it’s a very surreal experience. In addition, it was quite humbling for me. It’s a reminder that this story isn’t just about me. Sure, I’m the one with the cancer, but all who surround me are being affected. Even those who don’t know me are affected. I’ve said it a million times, and I’ll say it again. God gave me this story to share with others. He blessed me with this testimony and I want to tell people about it! I’m learning more and more often how many people God is touching through this chapter in my life, and I’m grateful to be His vessel. What an honor. My friend has completed the article and it went live today. I would love for y’all to check it out and share it with your friends! Below I’ve included the link to the Swedish Hospital main website and their blog where you can find my article.

http://www.swedishhospital.com/swedish-spotlight/detail.htm?id=434081&fb_source=message

http://www.besthospitaldenver.com/461457/2012/06/04/fighting-cancer-with-faith.html

PS: It’s my husband and I’s 2 year wedding anniversary tomorrow! I’m so thankful to have this man standing by me in this fight.

Psalm 71:16-18 (ESV)

“With the mighty deeds of the Lord God I will come; I will remind them of your righteousness, yours alone. O God, from my youth you have taught me, and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds. So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come.”

18
May
2012

Radiation Rewind

As of today, I have completed 10 rounds of radiation! Only 18 more to go, oh joy!

For me, radiation is very unlike chemotherapy. I honestly feel like a professional at ingesting chemo cocktails, however, I’m such a novice at receiving laser beams. I tell you what, chemo is easy compared to these radioactive beams. Because I’m sure plenty of you are wondering what radiation treatment is actually like, I’ll explain. First off, I lay on a small table-like board. No cushions, just hard surface. I’m in a huge room with 4 red laser beams aimed right at me. If I didn’t know better, I would think the world’s best snipers had it out for me. There is an extremely large machine that moves like a transformer to the several positions it’s required to. Once my radiation therapists have lined me up correctly, they walk out of the room, and within minutes I hear the machine start up. This transformer is controlled by my therapists and slowly moves around my body to certain positions. All of the lasers are aimed at my pelvic region. Treatment itself is pretty quick. I think I end up laying there for about 10 minutes, give or take a few depending on the day. My radiation sessions are super easy. I don’t feel a thing, and laying there completely still isn’t that difficult. It’s what follows treatment that I hate.

Like I’ve shared before, my body has reacted fairly well to chemotherapy. Besides the obvious of losing my hair and being more tired than usual, there hasn’t really been many side effects. I still, to this day, have not thrown up. That doesn’t mean that I haven’t had an overall queasy feeling, it just means nothing has come up. Praise God for that. Radiation has been different to my body. Because treatment is aimed at a certain area, and the lasers purpose is to annihilate a very specific and localized region, my lower stomach has been very sore. I expected this, so it wasn’t a shock, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I have never been so thankful for summer, as I am nowadays. I physically can’t wear anything with a waistband any longer, because of the pressure it puts on my stomach. It’s sore from the inside out, and feels similar to what it did immediately after my hysterectomy. Summer dresses are now my best friends. I can happily announce that my skin hasn’t gotten red or blistered. Really, the sensitivity in my stomach is what bothers me most. In addition, I’ve been more tired than I am during my 3-day chemo cycles. These laser beams are intense. Not only are they ripping my insides apart, but my body is trying hard to recover, which in turn makes me exhausted. If I could stand being still for a long period of time, I’m sure I would take more naps. Unfortunately, cancer treatment tends to make me feel lazy, and I fight it as hard as I can. In fact, call me crazy, but I just got a gym membership… My body is going to hate me.

Here’s something new: I’m growing my hair back. And I’m surprisingly not happy about it. It’s such a hassle! Plus, I know that once I’m done with this portion of treatment, I’ll head right back to the chemo drugs that promote hair loss again. So, can’t it just stay gone until I’m through?! Of course not. My hair loss has actually been completely different than what I expected throughout my journey. As you know, during this portion of my treatment, I’m receiving radiation every day (5 days a week) with a weekly dose of chemo. This specific type of chemo drug that I’m receiving now does not cause hair loss, hence why it’s all coming back. That’s something I didn’t know prior to this adventure. I thought chemo automatically equated hair loss. But, as I’m learning, that’s not the case. When I went through my first 3-day chemotherapy cycles, I did lose my head hair, but not the rest of my body hair. For example, I’ve still had to shave my legs as often as I did prior to diagnosis. What crap, huh!? A benefit of not losing all my body hair is that my eyelashes and eyebrows have hung on for most of the ride. Recently, I’ve started wearing false eyelashes because my naturals are getting quite a bit thinner. My underarm hair disappeared during my first 3 cycles, but now has returned along with the hair on my head. My arm hair has remained constant throughout. I’m proof that hair loss is not equal during cancer treatments. I’m just hoping it all gets back on the train once treatment is over. Here’s to praying and hoping for thick and fast growing hair in the fall…head hair, of course!

Can I take a quick minute to thank all my followers and supporters? Wait, I don’t need permission…this is my blog. My deepest thanks to those who continue to walk this journey with me, those who follow my story, those who support me, and those who spend hours and hours praying for my healing. Thank you for taking time out of your busy days to follow my adventure through my diagnosis. You touch my heart and impact my life tremendously, and I truly value it.

My adventure will continue for a lifetime. Cancer will only be a chapter. Although there are days where I can’t find the least bit of sunshine in the storm, I refuse to stop paddling. Cancer won’t drown me.

Psalm 5: 11-12 (ESV)

“But let all who take refuge in you rejoice; let them ever sing for joy, and spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may exult in you. For you bless the righteous, O Lord; you cover him with favor as with a shield.”

27
Feb
2012

Emotional Deflation

Another day in the life of a chemo patient here, friends. I got a blood draw today, and the results came back good! It’s a great day over here when any results are positive ones.

Now you know I can’t just be super happy and cheery all of the time, don’t you? Here’s the hard facts. I got some news today that traveled differently through my system than it had before. I say it like that, because I was given this news back when I was rediagnosed with neuro-endocrine cancer, however, it didn’t register completely then. Mind you, when someone tells you that you have a way worse scenario, one that is “hard to cure” and “resistant to treatment”, most other things fly right by your senses.

Today, as I was rescheduling another blood draw, getting filled up on prescriptions, and asking questions about this annoying stomach queasiness that’s been haunting me in the mornings, I learned the true extent of my treatment. This isn’t going to be as short of a journey as I thought it would be. Well, truth be told, I never thought it would be “short”, per se. But I wasn’t expecting this to be a 6 month process just to get to remission. That’s what it’s going to be. At least 6 months… if I remain healthy and don’t have any set-backs during that period. Because it was hard for me to even comprehend what my next 6 months will look like without a visual, I will generously supply you with one.

Again, below is a schedule of what my treatment will look like, as long as I remain healthy. Of course, this could change as the time goes on. Praying for miracles, though!

3 Days Chemo

2 Weeks Off

3 Days Chemo

2 Weeks Off

3 Days Chemo

2 Weeks Off

6 Weeks Radiation with Chemo 1/week

2 Weeks Off

3 Days Chemo

2 Weeks Off

3 Days Chemo

2 Weeks Off

3 Days Chemo

2 Weeks off

The End of Treatment!

Doesn’t that just look like a hell-of-a-road? Ugh, I can’t tell you how deflated I was when I heard the news in depth. When I heard that treatment wouldn’t even be complete until July 30, as long as I remain healthy, it was a punch to the gut. 6 months?! I don’t want to go through this that long! God is teaching me perseverance, patience, and endurance. Why give me an easy struggle? Is there even such a thing? He’s making me work for the finish line, and for that, I’m surprisingly grateful. I can’t imagine what better qualities I will have by the fall.

God’s still with me on this one. One incredibly obvious way can be noted through my lack of projectiles. He has held me firmly in His grip, and has not allowed any sickness (besides the minor queasiness) to enter my body. Hallelujah. The nurses told me to expect vomiting last Friday through this Wednesday, and I am here to happily report, I haven’t thrown up once! My God is still a BIG God. He is here with me. He is listening to me. He is cheering for me. He will heal me. He is for me. WOW. As easy as it would be to fall flat, and question where God is through all of this, I am only drawn closer to Him. I feel His presence stronger than I ever have, and for that I can’t begin to express my gratitude. Feeling His presence is overwhelming, and it’s simple to receive. Just ask. I promise.

Romans 8:31-39 (The Message Version)

“So, what do you think? With God on our side like this, how can we lose? If God didn’t hesitate to put everything on the line for us, embracing our condition and exposing himself to the worst by sending his own Son, is there anything else he wouldn’t gladly and freely do for us? And who would dare tangle with God by messing with one of God’s chosen? Who would dare even to point a finger? The One who died for us—who was raised to life for us!—is in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us. Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ’s love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture: 

   They kill us in cold blood because they hate you. 
   We’re sitting ducks; they pick us off one by one.

None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I’m absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.”

23
Feb
2012

Chemo Cocktails

I had another good couple of days, friends! Reason to celebrate! Today I had my second day of chemotherapy, and it went well. Before my chemo treatments, I truly had no idea what to expect, but now I’m much relieved. However, I know that rougher days are to come. For now though, I live in the present. I rejoice in the good days. I laugh when something is funny. I cry when I need to. And I hug everyone. I’ve learned that’s the only way I can be nowadays. Living in the now. Not worrying about what scary days might be ahead of me. Living in this day, not tomorrow.

I, myself, always wondered what chemo was like. Does it hurt? Can you feel it? Do you get sick immediately? Does it make you tired? Now, that I am experiencing it, I can share my knowledge! I will answer these questions with the statement “so far” before them, because frankly, these answers might change the deeper I get into treatment. Chemo does not hurt, nor can I feel it. Even though, they hook up all of these bags of liquid poison to my body, I truly can’t tell the difference. Well, that might be a little white lie, because now that I’m writing this, I remember that when my IV is filled with Benedryl or Zofran, I do feel a little cross-eyed and slightly loopy. But those two meds are given in the beginning of my sessions for anti-nausea purposes, and they wear off fairly quickly. I, praise the Lord, have not gotten sick. This morning I woke up with a small quiver in my stomach, but I can attribute that to not having eaten much. I hadn’t even eaten breakfast yet, folks! Once I did, I assure you, the quiver went away. The main side effect that I’m experience from these chemotherapy sessions are the exhaustion. I feel wiped out all of the time. I feel like I can never get enough sleep. It’s almost as if, instead of pumping fluids into me, they are sucking out all of my energy. By the time my sessions are complete, I just want to take a nap. If only it was that simple… These past 2 days, I haven’t been able to shut my mind off. No matter how tired I am, I seem to stay awake and find things to do. I know I need to quit that, and just give into the sleep. My white blood cells need a break, after all. They are fighting awfully hard.

Chemo sessions are cleansing. Wow, that’s weird to even admit. I know that by the end of them, I will be over it and ready to move on, but for now it’s the truth. The room in which I get these treatments is positive. The other women who ingest these cocktails beside me are positive. And the nurses are extremely positive. When I enter, I am greeted with smiles. Always. Every patients’ chemo schedules are different, so within these past couple of days, I have not been met by the same patients. The nurses however, remain the same. I can honestly say, I love them. I adore my nurses. They are so happy, exuberant, calming, and positive. I’m sure they have their own life troubles going on behind the scenes, but they always put them aside to take care of us. I will also say that I love my fellow cancer fighters. These women are all so strong, and there is an air of encouragement, that I drench myself in when I am in their presence. Our treatment room is a decent size, filled with about 8 recliners. Typically, it’s me and 5-6 other women receiving treatment at the same time. We all have different mixtures of medicinal poison, but no matter the drink, we refer to them as our cocktails. The first time I heard one of the women say that, I was shocked, but dang, isn’t it the truth!? And such a fun way to spin the current circumstance!

Tomorrow will be my last day of this 3 day stint of chemotherapy. That’s very exciting! Just one more step to recovery. Each step, no matter how difficult or different than the previous, is totally worth it. I have cancer, and I will do whatever it takes to fight this damn thing. Let’s just get it out, no matter how painful or tiring the process may be. I will succeed. Cancer will not.

Romans 12:12

“Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.”

15
Feb
2012

Things Happen So Quickly

Right when I feel like I’m settling into the current circumstances, things change. In fact, it’s been the pattern. With every doctors appointment I attend, I leave cradling worse news. I was not looking forward to my appointment with my oncologist yesterday. My husband and parents were trying to encourage me to continue seeing the positive side, but I just felt I wouldn’t come home with good news.

My feeling was right.

Like I’ve mentioned before, I appreciate my oncologist’s personality. She is straight and to the point, but not harsh. She is compassionate, but not overly emotional. My husband and mom accompanied me into her office, and we all sat down. My doctor began by saying they have further identified the actual type of cancer cells I have.  Below I will list the straight facts of what I’ve learned. I’m extremely exhausted today, so I won’t be able to put as much emotion into my writing, like I typically do. Maybe, once I’m up and energized, I will add my response. Point is, this is crappy news. It changes the whole ball game. It’s like going onto the baseball field expecting to play the Astros (no offense) and finding out you’ll be playing the Yankees. It’s still a game, but you practiced and were prepared for playing against one specific team. Suddenly, a new team shows up and you’re left thinking… Dammit, this truly is going to be a battle. The difference is, God is still by my side and will fight hard on my front line. I am more and more thankful for Him everyday.

Here are the facts:

  1. The results of the biopsies came back and show that the other lymph nodes have not yet been affected by the cancer. This is good news. This means that the doctor removed the cancerous cervix and lymph node, and no other area is showing positive for cancer. Praise God.
  2. Because of the biopsies, they were further able to identify my specific type of cancer cells. Originally I was diagnosed with squamous cell cancer. There are 2 very common cancer types, one being squamous cell carcinoma, and the other being adenocarcinoma. Typically those are the most common cancers seen. However, there are a bunch of other little random and very rare types. Neuroendocrine cancer is an extremely rare type. That’s what I’ve been re-diagnosed with.
  3. Neuroendocrine cancer is an SOB cancer. This monstrous cancer is far worse and meaner than the 2 most common types. My doctor informed me that neuroendocrine cancer is very difficult to cure, and is extremely resistant to treatment.

Because my cancer is hard to cure and resists treatment, we have to get the treatment ball rolling a LOT quicker than we had planned. I start chemo next Wednesday (2/22). My port is being surgically placed under my skin this Friday (2/17). This first round of chemo will be for 3 straight days. Wednesday I will receive 5-6 hours of chemo, and both Thursday and Friday I will receive 3-4 hours of treatment.

After my 3 days of chemo, I will get a 2 week break to rest. Then my radiation/chemo program begins. It’s the same as I stated before. For 5 1/2 weeks, I’ll go in 5 days a week (M-F) to receive radiation. Once a week during that time, I will receive a shot of chemo.

Once the radiation/chemo program is complete, I will have another 2 weeks off from treatment. Then I will begin my next set of chemo rounds. 3 days in a row. Similar to the first time. After this sandwich effect of treatment is complete, they will reassess me, and see what we need to do from then on.

Here are some personal thoughts that I dwell on. I will definitely lose all of my hair within a month. I’m actually not too frightened by this. I’m thankful for a pretty face, and nice skin. And even more thankful that I’m a makeup artist and can make even a bald woman look hot. My husband’s an artist and we’ve already talked about some artwork he could draw on my head… Ya know, like a baseball, football helmet, or field of flowers. Just comedic ideas, friends. I also know that I’m going to be very sick and weak pretty soon. I won’t be able to do much of anything. That’s a bummer. Being as independent as I am, this will be a huge adjustment. I am going to have to completely rely on my husband and family for any needs I might have. But it’s a good thing I’ve got a stellar husband and incredible family to help me with this!

Like I said before, today is a day full of exhaustion. I really need to rest. My incision pain is bad and my intestines have remembered how to work, so I’ve got a little stomach ache. My apologies for not being as fun as I typically am in my entires. But I’ll be back to posting soon. Just need to lay down and catch up on my ZZZ’s. Thank you all for your understanding, support, prayers, and encouragement. You all rock.

2 Chronicles 20:15-17 (Message Version)

“He said, ‘Attention everyone- all of you from out of town, all you from Jerusalem, and you King Jehosaphat-God’s word: Don’t be afraid; don’t pay any mind to this vandal horde. This is God’s war, not yours. Tomorrow you’ll go after them; see, they’re already on their way up the slopes of Ziz; you’ll meet them at the end of the ravine near the wilderness of Jeruel. You won’t have to lift a hand in this battle; just stand firm, Judah and Jerusalem, and watch God’s saving work for you take shape. Don’t be afraid, don’t waver. March out boldly tomorrow-God is with you.'”

1 … 3 4 5