One Down

I'm 25% finished with chemo--yay!  So far no terrible side effects except for neuropenia--a tingling under the skin that feels like a part of you has fallen asleep and is waking up to the blood rush.  It was a little weird to feel it in my face as I was falling asleep last night, but it passed.

They give you benedryl and an anti-anxiety/anti-nausea med in the IV before they give you the chemo.  So, you feel pretty loopy before it begins and I've found the most important thing to do is to snag a chair directly in front of the tv so you get to control the remote.  After all, most of the patients were in and out quicker than me, so longevity equals priority in my book.  That's an extension on Darwin's theory of survival in case you were wondering.

A lady in the chair next to mine was on her 7th treatment for ovarian cancer.  She has one more to go and I imagine I'll see her next time.  She is stage 3 and they get about a 20% chance of survival to 5 years, but she's very positive and we all know how that helps.  2 people had their last chemo yesterday and the nurses gather round them, blowing bubbles and playing songs like "We are the champions of the World."  The grins were huge.

I have no nausea and the nurse said that the anti-nausea drug in the IV should last about 3 days.  I don't have a metallic taste, either (Carbo-platin, one of the drugs is based on platinum,) but maybe that's an accumulated effect.

I'm getting my hair cut on Saturday afternoon.  They say that your hair begins to fall out 10-12 days after chemo and takes a week to completely fall out.  Both drugs, Taxol and Carbo-platin, cause hair loss so I have hope in the face of overwhelming odds that I might be one of the lucky ones.  Another lady next to me was there for colon cancer and hadn't lost her hair in all her treatments.  Her drug is related to Taxol, so maybe that has something to do with it.

Oh, and today is my birthday.  Jesse is back to school today and now Christian is down with it.  Last year we had a terrible snow storm right before my birthday and it sealed us off--no presents or cake!  Don't think I don't let the men of my house ever forget that!  Now when asked how old I am I can say that I'm celebrating the 32nd anniversary of my 29th year.  So, if you can't do math, just go with the 29.  I prefer it that way.

I've put a beef stew in the crock pot and I'm going to find a decent bakery for some chocolatey decadence birthday cake.  But first, I must get out of these jammies!

Edge of the Cliff

Has it really been that long since a new post?  For the past 2 weeks I have been eating well, resting and getting over an infection.  Yesterday I spent 5 hours at an allergist's office determining that I'm not allergic to penicillan after all.  This is big and good news in case I get an infection when my white cell count falls from chemo.  I'm not planning on needing penicillan, but it's good to know that I can have it if something comes up.

Tomorrow is D day, or I guess I should say C day, as in chemo.

I bought a wig yesterday and I have to say it made me feel rather goofy, like, "Is it Halloween already?"  Mickey thinks it will be good for my self-esteem and maybe he's right, but for now it feels more like an outrageous costume.  And those damn things are expensive, you know?  But he pointed out that they cost less than 3-4 months of hair salon appointments.  I have a feeling the salon will prove to be a vastly more entertaining experience than chemo.

What is it about chemo that makes it more frightening than anything else I've been through?  Possibly it's because it's such a mystery.  No one can tell you how you'll react.  Every individual is supposed to handle it differently.  And no one knows why some people have some side effects and other people have others.  I guess, for me, it's like getting on an airplane and having to trust a faceless pilot with your safety.  Yep, I am afraid of flying.  It's that control thing.  But I get on an airplane because the lure of getting from point A to point B is stronger than my fear.  I have to get through chemo because the idea of manifestly knowing that I'm totally cancer-free is stronger than my fear of barfing for 3 months or anguish at losing (possibly forever) every attribute that makes me feel and/or look pretty.

And let me just say here that it shocks me how vain I am, but there it is.  I actually like having hair on my head for more than just warmth.  And my eyelashes are a family trait that I love to see in my boys, siblings and cousins, and I'm attached to them.  And my eyebrows are from my Great Grandma Ehrmantraut and I hardly ever have to pluck them.  I hope that if the possibility of dropping a few IQ points or losing some of my "heart" or "spirit" were a result of chemo, I would feel as badly.  But I think that as a woman, the idea of being attractive is an ancient pull--hair being your "crowning glory," for example.

I stand on the edge of a cliff.  Everything that went before is at my back and a new "normal" is hidden from my outward view.  And here's where I want to adopt the Chinese idea of "challenge/opportunity" being 2 sides of the same coin.

I have been a member of tut.com for a long time and get "Notes from the Universe" every day.  They're wonderfully positive, particularly if your faith system leans to the "less is more" idea regarding dogma.  Here is one note that I received recently and brings me comfort.

Joan, it's easy.  Your thoughts become things.  Don't fight it.  Don't think there's anything else.  Don't entertain the false premises of fate, luck or a God who judges, withholds, or decides.  You decide.  You manifest.  You rule.  This is why you are here.  This is what you came to discover.  You were born to experience your absolute dominion over every flimsy, malleable illusion of time and space; to have, do, and be anything.

Truthfully, it couldn't be any easier.  All you have to do is think of what you want and refuse to deviate from that thought.  This will, invariably, set you into motion, stir up the magic, and unleash the full force, power, and majesty of a Universe conspiring on your behalf.  It's worth everything you've got, Joan.  Be strong, be vigilant, take action, and the Kingdom of Heaven shall appear at your very feet.

I've got your back,

The Universe

BTW, Joan, Heaven has nothing to do with dying, and everything to do with being born, again, to truth.  Cool?

Thinking positively for for my near future and feeling grateful for my strong, healthy body and the support and love I have received during my recent "opportunity."  I'll let you all know how chemo goes.

Can You Say "Hematoma?"

I'm off today to take Jesse to the orthopedist to find out if his finger is healed enough for him to resume activities.  I hope so--now he and Christian can ride the ski bus to Mt. Spokane for boarding/skiing.  Poor kids.  We canceled their activities until further notice to keep the stress level down on the parents (read, chauffeurs) and they've been pretty bored.  Although Christian has become a yoga fan and Jesse is working out in the Y's weight room.

It seems like the complications from this surgery go on and on and on...  Went in for the ultrasound on Friday.  The radiologist was supposed to make sure there was no hernia and drain the fluid.  Oops.  Not fluid, blood.  It's called a hematoma and it's really fun if you say it with an Arnold Schwartzeneggar accent (kind of like in Kindergarten Cop when he says, "It's not a tumor.")  Then downstairs to the CT scan to make sure I wasn't bleeding anywhere.  They drained 100 cc's of blood (not all of it since the doc was worried that new blood would flow in and I'd end up in the hospital with a transfusion.)  It didn't hurt because most of my nerve endings in my belly are dead--a side effect of surgery, thank God, as I got a look at the needle.  Of course, I lived through 2 amnios, etc.

This weekend my incision became very red and inflamed like I had a sunburn.  It's in a really interesting pattern that Mickey says looks like a drawing of a penis and balls on my belly.  Just what I wanted.  According to Freud anyway.

Heading over to Cancer Care NW, after I get Jess back to school, to see what's up.  On the bright side, today is house cleaning day.  I get a clean house and don't have to do any work.  It's the little things in life, right?

Surgery Blues

I'm heading back to the hospital today for another "procedure."  Isn't there some joke about aging and counting the procedures in your life?  

Since my surgery I've developed something called a seroma.  It's like someone left a 5" diameter rubber ball just under my skin below the bellybutton.  It reminds me of a capenter's level because if I lie on one side it shifts up toward the ceiling, except it's not an air bubble, but fluid-filled.  I'm going into Deaconess today to have an ultrasound to make sure that there's no hernia beneath it and if not, then they're going to drain it.  I believe that includes a needle and I'm not too excited except that I've lived through 2 amnios, so I'm sure I'll live through this.  If there's a hernia, I don't know what will happen.  Possibly more surgery.

We took a chemo class this week to find out all the ins and outs of chemotherapy.  There seem to be no hard and fast rules because every body reacts in an individual way, but low white cell counts and red cell counts seem universal.  Hair loss, too, given the type of drugs I'll have to take.  I asked how long a chemo session lasts because on the video they showed, there was a woman with a little syringe going in her arm.  I'm thinking an hour max.  When I told her what drugs I was getting she said I'd be there 6 hours.  6 hours!  Are you kidding?  Then she said that was just the first time.  After that they could probably get it down to 4 1/2 or 5 hours.  Guess I'll have to bring lots to do.  I wonder if you can get up to go to the bathroom?  Probably, huh?

I feel really good lately.  I'm getting my energy back and except for the rubber ball in my belly, I would really like to start exercising again.  But alas, I'm supposed to wait another 3 weeks except for walking.  Of course, walking here in Spokane is definitely taking your life in your hands, what with all the ice, snow, berms, etc.  I really miss skiing and skating, dancing (of course!) yoga, Pilates, and all the other stuff I took for granted.  I started acupuncture this week to strengthen my immune system.

The weird thing is that I don't feel like I have anything wrong with me.  I have a hard time saying that I'm sick or that I have cancer because deep down, I believe that my cancer was removed with the ovary.  I know it sounds like magical thinking, but I don't believe that I have any cancer left.  I'm looking at chemo like it's an insurance policy, in case there are any stray cells floating around in me.  

But ovarian cancer is a deadly killer because there are no real symptoms.  I never had any.  I went in because I was having endometriosis pain from a cyst on my ovary.  The cancer was a surprise.  I did have a series of horrible nightmares about death and being buried alive prior to my first surgery.  I just thought it was because I am turning 51 this month and that was the age my sister, Janet, was when she was diagnosed with her cancer.  She died when she was 52.  I thought it was psychological, but now I wonder if the body has a wisdom and it was trying desperately to get my attention.

I spoke with a lovely woman in Norfolk, VA a couple of nights ago.  She was given my number by the Cancer Hope Network because she had the same type and stage of ovarian cancer as me.  She had it 14 years ago, so there is long-term survival out there.  Clear cell is kind of rare.  My oncologist only sees 1 or 2 cases of it a year.  So it's good to meet someone who has gone through it all.

I continue to feel so blessed by all of you who are supporting the whole family through this.  We joined a support group for families and I think it'll be good for the boys.  They're looking forward to skiing/boarding when Jesse gets the green light from the orthopedist (next Monday, we hope.)  Then I can put them on the bus to Mt. Spokane and they can get some use out of their equipment this year.  They can use the exercise and the fun.  We had to take them out of their activities like fencing and taekwando because it was too much stress on us to get them to sessions.  It'll be fine.  Spring is coming.