Saturday, March 10, 2012

Two More to Go!

I had my third to last Herceptin infusion yesterday. It didn't go as smoothly as I would have liked. The good Elaine who usually does so well with my port got the needle in but something wasn't quite right ... as she was moving the needle around, there was pain just below it. This is only the second time this has happened and she stopped. Must have hit a nerve or something. The needle had to be removed and then inserted by another nurse, Bernie, and all was well.

My potassium level was good - 3.9! It went up by .2, so I am happy. The last two infusions saw it at 3.7, so an increase is good. As long as it stays in the 3 pt range, it's vulnerable, to the "downs" of this chemotherapy.  Bringing it up to 4 will be good ... hmmm ... sweet potato this weekend?

The Benadryl hit me hard this time ...  napped through most of the infusion and I probably would have slept more if that man in the infusion chair across from me had not had his TV blaring. Some people are so inconsiderate. If I don't want to listen to your private phone calls, what makes you think that I would want to listen to your television?

The Benadryl had not worn off when I got home. I took another nap ... actually I think I took multiple naps, and this morning I was up at the crack of dawn! I am well rested.

The end is so close that I can see it! Hard to believe that one whole year of infusions will come to an end. When I first started I remember being a little weepy as I thought of how long it would all take. But you just have to do it because what choice do you have? You plow through it all and at some point it all ends.

I know for some people the end of treatments can be traumatic because it means that all that can be done to beat their cancer, has been done, and they don't know if it has all been enough. No one really knows and that is the hard part. You just have to have faith and go living your life as if this disease is really gone.

I fully intend to do that. This will be just one awful year and a half in which I learnt so many things about myself and some of the people I thought I knew. This time will become part of my history. I will live my life ... grateful for each day and all the people who have been with me through this terrifying ordeal. There are no words to describe the love and gratitude I have for John and Sarah ... life would have been impossible without them.

Today is a new day and I embrace it.

Monday, March 5, 2012

Another Echo

It was snowing as I rode to St. Mary's for my three-month echos and the trees lining the street were silvery with snow ... one of those postcard pretty pictures.

I didn't have to wait too long and we were all done by 9:17. I am going to keep an eye on my charts to see if the results will get posted there. There's something different about this one. I've only had this technician twice but he gave off a vibe that was a little different from the last time. Maybe the snow is playing tricks with my sixth sense. I just hope the old ticker is all right.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Hair and More Hair

It was never about being vain but one of the hardest parts of this process was losing my hair. I think it was hard because it was an outward manifestation of an internal disease. Every time I looked in the mirror, I knew what it was that was inside of me.

And when you start this process, it seems that the end is so faraway. But it does end. My TCH infusions ended on July 28 and my hair has been growing steadily since then. The amount of grey has surprised me but everyone has told me that is quite normal and that eventually it all comes back. I never thought I'd say this but I am actually getting used to the color.

What has delighted me to no end and I keep patting my bouncy hair, is that my hair has come back thicker than ever. Hashimoto's disease had already thinned it out so much that it was actually curlier than it had ever been. To get something good out of this crappy disease is something to be very grateful for ... thank you, Lord!

Friday, March 2, 2012

Agonizing Leg Cramps

It doesn't seem quite fair, does it, that after surviving some of the hardest things of my life, I now start having leg cramps. Not just any old leg cramps, but paralyzing ones that brought tears to my eyes. I don't even know whether to blame the Herceptin or the Arimedex.

Mine started a week after my last infusion. I knew something was up that day because I kept getting foot cramps in both feet. I've had foot cramps for almost a decade since I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's, so I wasn't so concerned. But at the end of the day when I was sitting in the recliner, they seemed to be getting worse and moving up to my ankles -- my muscles were contracting and pulling my feet up towards my ankles, and then the contractions literally snaked up my leg to my thigh, and paralyzed me. I wish there are words to describe the pain ... they escape me.

Sarah was downstairs with me and jumped up to grab my Aleve for me and then raced to prepare a hot water bottle. It took about an hour for the pain to go away. I couldn't move ... even the slightest movement caused the most horrendous pain.

I cannot even imagine what I would do if I got an attack at work ... embarrassing and horrifying. But the end is close and I can do this ... yes, I can.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Another Anniversary

At this time last year I was at St. Mary's getting prepped for surgery. Anniversaries like these are bittersweet. The scars from the lumpectomy and the sentinel node removal have faded to tiny silvery lines on my skin and there are moments when I can almost forget that I once had this terrible disease. But I did have it with all the terror it brought.

I am deeply grateful for the team of people who saved my life. On this day I thank God for the skills of Dr. Knaysi. He is a kind, thoughtful surgeon, who paid no heed to my "Just take it all out, I don't care what the breast looks like." He cared and he did a marvelous job. Now when I look in the mirror I don't weep with remembrance. I look almost normal and as the years go by, this will be my new normal, and the memory of this time will fade. I will never forget because no one forgets a time like this, but the emotional response will be different. The choking horror and the dread will be gone.

"Just live" Dr. Schaffer told me and I am doing that. But everyone who has had a disease like this, I think lives on borrowed time. I am no Einstein. I do not have great gifts to give the world. I can only live the best life I know how.