Sessions two and three - five more to go!

Since I'm late getting my second infusion session posted I decided to just combine the last two. Basically the drill is the same: port access and blood draw, wait, meet with the RN or oncologist, wait, infusion check in, wait, get infusion (6-7 hours), get pump connected, go home. Forty-six hours later I come back and get the pump disconnected.

I have purchased an Ipad mini which helps keep me entertained and connected to the outside world. They still haven't come up with a treadmill for me so I walk back and forth in the halls – there's not a circular route. Many of the other people getting treatment do not look like they are up for a stroll.

On my second session I got a standard bay (why they're called bays I don't know, to make you feel like you're on a cruise?). Here is an image of my bay:

Well, not cozy but serviceable. There's a TV if you want to watch it which doesn't interest me, especially if I'm there during the day.

On my third visit I had a window room! Unfortunately, everything is oriented away from the window so you have to sit backwards on the bed to get a view of the traffic on I-5:

There is one bay with corner windows! I hope I get that one some day.

In general, I am doing well. I met with the oncologist this last visit and he is happy with how I am progressing. The oncologist didn't feel I needed the CT scan done after six treatments and so now I am scheduled through the end of the year, literally, 12/31 is my last infusion. I have had little or no nausea. The worst side-effect is the reaction to cold in my fingers, like pins and needles. I need to wear gloves to take things out of the refrigerator. My feet, throat and face seem to becoming sensitive to cold also. A few days after chemo the sensation is not as bad. It could take a year for this side effect to disappear completely. David thinks my hair is thinning and I'm getting grey, but I saw my hairdresser this Saturday and she wasn't too sure. I may break out the Loving Care anyway. I am tired the Friday and Saturday after infusion so take it easy and don't push it (except for playing tennis which really isn't pushing it, it's just fun).

So, as you see, I'm getting through this, one step at a time. At one point the RN said that since I had to go through this I should just learn to love it. I said, no, I don't have to love or like it, I just have to get through it. And that's what I am doing.

Blessed and Lucky

Sorry I haven't been in communication recently. I've been enjoying life - working, playing tennis, exercising, being with David (opera Saturday night) and enjoying this beautiful fall we are having in Seattle - foggy, cool mornings and almost warm afternoons. The trees have been hanging on to their color a little longer, perhaps due to the milder weather.

Shades of grey, no?

All along, my goal has been to not let the cancer treatments interfere with my activities as much as possible. So when I get a stretch of time free of appointments coupled with some energy, I take advantage of it. And, I realize how lucky I am to be able to do the things I do. People tell me that I'm amazing, strong and brave. No, I'm just ornery enough to not let the cancer treatments get the better of me, when possible. There are times when I realize it's OK to nap or just rest - which is a breakthrough for me.

I also realize I'm very lucky that my colonoscopy revealed the cancer at a treatable stage. My sister recently went to a memorial for someone who wasn't feeling well, when into the hospital and was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer. He died five days later. Please, DO NOT put off any tests your doctor recommends, they are bearable and if the results are good, you won't have to bother for a while.

I saw this story in the NY Times about a woman who must decide on her wedding date based on her parents health. Warning - tearjerker.

Yes, I'm blessed and lucky.

One down, seven to go

Last Wednesday, I had the first of eight chemo treatments. So, every two weeks, this will be my routine.

But, wait, first I had to get the port implanted. I think the scheduling department dropped the ball because I ended up getting my port implanted on Tuesday, and started chemo the next day. It was outpatient surgery at UW, I was in at 7:00 AM, out by 1:30 PM. Things went well and now I have a little lump (bot fly) under my skin on the right side of my chest. The crappiest part is, that after being able to finally play tennis after my last surgery, now I have to wait two weeks to play again. One step forward, three steps backwards. Which, is kind of like my playing, three bad shots, one good shot.

I am very lucky that a friend of mine, Stephanie, a nurse and a breast cancer survivor, offered to spend the day with me during my first chemo treatment. A blood draw is the first step, but since a nurse had not removed the dressing, I got the standard in the arm jab. Then, I had an hour to kill until the results got to the doctor.

David and I discovered a great place near SCCA that is now open for lunch, Blind Pig Teriyaki at Eastlake. I've been wanting to eat at Blind Pig Bistro, but haven't been able to get there at night. I was able to pick up some gumbo before my appointments so I had something good for lunch. They do have a 'nutrition' center in the infusion area - if you consider Campbell's soup, Lorna Donne cookies and sodas nutrition. They do what they can, they can not maintain anything fresh, plus there's the issue of contamination from bacteria, and I am sure for some people this is a god-send. I wanted gumbo, and I got it! Stopping here will be on my agenda either before or after my treatments!

Now, where was I? At this point the doctor has the test results and you meet with them to get your vitals taken and talk about things such as what to expect and side effects. Then you go back to the waiting area to get assigned to a chemo station and a nurse. 

Once you get ushered into your station, the fun begins. Some tape or adhesive from the surgery had irritated my skin to the point that it took them a while to remove the dressing and then figure out how to anchor the IV access for the port. Now, I settle in for the duration. First comes some steroids, then an anti-nausea drug and then two of the three chemo therapies, Leucovorin and Oxaliplatin. To finish, I get a blast of Fluorouracil and then the tag along pump to administer more over the next 46 hours. After being there for six hours, I was on my way with my not-so-little fanny-pack buddy. We went everywhere for the next couple of days, except to the shower. Sponge baths and dry shampoo will be de rigueur. Bonus - I was given a hazard spill kit to carry around in case of an accident!

The next morning I immediately felt one of the side effects: neuropathy and cold sensitivity. I went out to fill the bird feeder and the tips of my fingers started tingling like they had fallen asleep. Over the next couple of days it was uncomfortable to take anything out of the refrigerator. The sensation lessened over the week, but I've heard that some people's throats close up even when they just open the refrigerator door. Guess I'll be heading to REI for some warm gloves this winter!

To get disconnected on Friday, I had to sit and wait until the pump administered the full dose. Then the access got plucked from my chest and a band aid gets stuck on. (Removing it later was fun.)
Afterwards, I had a slight issue with nausea but was able to control it with one of the anti-nausea drugs they gave me.

Like I said, one down; seven to go.