but there may be a small problem.
I went to visit the radiation oncologist on Thursday afternoon, before heading up to my cottage for a much needed mini-vacation.
In keeping with tradition, our 2:45 appointment (which we had to be there 30min prior to) was pushed back to 3:20-ish.
The meeting was worth the wait, however, as both Dr Read & her nurse were very pleasant and professional. The nurse took my medical history (which I think I could recount in my sleep at this point), and assured me that Dr. Read was very honest with her recommendations. If she thought I didn't need radiation, she would come right out and tell me.
I changed into a gown and Dr. Read came in to perform the standard physical exam. Upon completion, I was left alone to change and ponder the outcome of the meeting. The pondering was short lived, however, as Dr. Read returned moments later and explained to me that my case was borderline. She referred to cases like mine as "controversial", due to the inability of the professionals to agree on the proper resolution. The pros and cons of the treatment were laid out before me (below) and the final decision was put to me.
One would think that if radiation reduced the likelihood of my cancer returning, it would be a no brainer. My mentality going into the meeting was something like "cancer bad, radiation kills cancer, no more cancer, no problem. Let's do this".
However, as I have indicated in the title and first line of this blog... it's not that cut and dry. You will see why shortly.
I would like to briefly relay to you the reasons for/against treatment,
and then the pros and cons of treatment before discussing how I feel about it.
Why I don't necessarily need radiation-
*Only one node involved
*Cancer in the one node was completely encapsulated (it hadn't progressed beyond that node)
*my margins were clear (meaning that the cancer hadn't progressed/into toward the chest wall)
Reason why I should have radiation-
*I'm young, therefore I have a longer time for the cancer to return
*My cancer is very aggressive, therefore more likely to return
Pros of treatment-
*Radiation would effectively shrink/kill any cancer cells that are
still present in the chest area (* see note below)
*Local recurrence without radiation is 15-20%, and with radiation it is only about 10%
*A little more piece of mind, knowing that I have done everything I can to get rid of this horrible disease.
Cons of treatment-
The side effects, which I will list below.
Please note that these are not guaranteed side effects. Depending on how my body reacts to treatment, I may experience none of them at all.
*Darkening of the skin on the breast (or lack thereof)
*Development of superficial blood vessels on the skin
*1% chance of a rib breaking easily
*1-2% chance of lung scarring and development of a cough 6-8 weeks after treatment
*The chance of lymphadema jumps from about 5% to 10% with radiation
*remote chance that it could injure the nerves that work the arm
*slight increase (2-4%)in the likelihood of developing an additional form of cancer
*radiation can only be done once to that region of the body, so if the cancer comes back, radiation is no longer an option
And the big kick in the face-
*radiation could lead to scarring of the tissue in affected area, making implants impossible. If I were larger, this wouldn't be a big deal, as I could
utilize other methods of reconstruction (TRAM flap etc). However, because I have little fat on my body, the only option open to me would be implants.
I'm at a loss as to what to do.
I imagine that most people are thinking "If it's going to save your life, who cares about reconstruction".
Well, being that I'm only 27 years old, I guess I care about reconstruction.
Let me lay out the best/worst case scenarios for you, so you have a better idea of what I could be facing.
Best case scenario- I have radiation and everything goes well. I get the report back from the geneticist and he tells me they have not found a hereditary component to my cancer. I don't have to take the precautions otherwise necessary. I have my other breast removed and have implants put in. I am essentially physically whole again.
Worst case scenario- I have the radiation and it doesn't go well. There is a build up of scar tissue making it impossible to proceed with implants. I
receive word back from the geneticist that they found a hereditary component. To reduce the likelihood of having cancer again, I have my other breast and
my ovaries removed (remember, this genetic component puts me at higher risk for develop ovarian cancer). This essentially leaves me an asexual human being. Pretty much all the parts that make me "female" are gone.
I honestly am at a loss as to what to do.
I don't want the cancer to return. I don't want to die. I don't want to spend the rest of my life fighting and undergoing chemotherapy.
On the other hand, I don't want to live my life without breasts. I don't want to deal with the expense of breast prostheses and the accompanying mastectomy bras. I don't want to be stuck buying clothing/bathing suits that hides the fact that I don't have breasts. I certainly don't want to have to deal with the looks that people give if I don't wear the prostheses. I don't want to spend the rest of my life wanting to cry every time I look in the mirror.
When this started, I was convinced that the hardest decision I would have to make was whether or not to have the mastectomy. I took some solace in the fact that they could be reconstructed, that I could be made new again.
So what now? What decision should I make?
Have the radiation and live with the consequences if I can't have reconstruction... on the off chance that I'll be in the 5-10% that radiation actually helps.
OR
Not have the radiation, get my boobs back and pray that the ghost of cancer past doesn't decide to make a surprise return visit. On the off chance the cancer does returns, spend the rest of my life wondering if it could have been prevented.
Why do I have to make decisions like this?
Why can't I be like most people my age, who's biggest decision is what colour car to buy, or whether to look for a higher paying job.
(*Note* The radiation oncologist informed me that chemotherapy, although effective in killing cancer cells throughout the rest of my body, is not effective in the region where surgery occurred. This is due to the severing of the capillaries (tiny blood vessels) leading into the area. The chemo, which travels by way of the blood, generally can not successfully make its way into the area where surgery has occurred.)
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
I forgot one thing...
In my list of "Things I didn't expect from chemo", I neglected to mention my chemo-induced menopause and the annoying hot flashes that go with it. I've been assured by my doctor that most women my age return to a normal cycle after chemo has stopped. My fingers are crossed.
Ok... The long awaited information from my most recent appointments with my surgeon, my oncologist and the geneticist.
Dr. George visit (April 6th)-
*Highly suggested radiation
*6 to 12 months post-chemo wait before reconstruction can start (longer wait =greater satisfaction with reconstruction).
*appointment with plastic surgeon and him in July (which I have to rebook as we will be at the cottage).
*not allowed to gain weight for tram flap procedure, or ever (increases likelihood of recurrence).
*not allowed to drink...at least no more than 7 a week...and no saving up(also increases likelihood of recurrence).
*interested to see the results of genetic testing that will be done April 28th
Dr. Vandenberg visit (May 5th)-
*Also very interested to see results of genetic testing- will help to gauge if other breast and ovaries should be removed (if cancer is hereditary, then yes).
*Said ovaries don't usually give a problem until age 35 or so... so if it is hereditary, I will still have a few years to have a child before removal.
*Possibility of taking part in a clinical trial separate from the one I spoke if initially. A 10 year longitudinal study to investigate whether earlier administration of drugs given to people with bone mets (breast cancer spread to the bones) could help prevent bone mets in the first place.
*Set up a consult appointment with radiation oncologist for May 14 to discuss my radiation treatment.
Genetics testing with Dr. Ainsworth (April 28th)-
*Filled out a questionnaire regarding family history of cancer. It asked about people I didn't even know existed. This meant that my mother and I had to call my grandmothers to ask questions. I mean... there is nothing like calling someone in their 80's and drilling them for details about how their siblings/parents/husband died. Ugh.
*Spoke with the Geneticist regarding family history. In addition to breast cancer, he was concerned with the "inherited predisposition to...colon and/or endometrial cancers" on my mother's side of the family. He suggested colonoscopic and/or gynaecological surveillance for my mother and her siblings. Yippee.
*Indicated that given my young age, it is more likely that my cancer is hereditary.
*He then scolded me for my lack of (rather detailed) knowledge of DNA and mismatch repair genes (perhaps he didn't know I've been out of high school for almost 10 years).
*If they do not find a mutation, that doesn't mean that without a doubt, my cancer isn't hereditary. In fact, it could be the case that "the present technology isn't sophisticated enough to identify it." (it being the gene responsible).
*I then gave about a quart of my blood (from two different spots on my arm) and was freed to go home.
*The results should be back in 3-4 months.
Interesting facts-
BRCA1 carriers
Females- 65%(or more) will develop Breast cancer and 39%(or more) will develop ovarian cancer by age 70
Males- Increased risk of Prostate cancer
BRCA2 carriers
Females- 45% (or more) will develop Breast cancer and 11% (or more) will develop ovarian cancer by age 70
Males- Increased risk of Prostate cancer
"In addition there are reported to be above average risks for a number of other cancers which are especially associates with BRCA2 mutations including those including the stomach, pancreas, gall bladder and/or bile ducts as well as melanoma of the skin or eye."
The eye??? come on!! That's grossssss.
*In case you are wondering what I am quoting, it's a nice follow up letter that Dr. Ainsworth sent me, reiterating everything that we talked about in the meeting.
Ok... The long awaited information from my most recent appointments with my surgeon, my oncologist and the geneticist.
*Highly suggested radiation
*6 to 12 months post-chemo wait before reconstruction can start (longer wait =greater satisfaction with reconstruction).
*appointment with plastic surgeon and him in July (which I have to rebook as we will be at the cottage).
*not allowed to gain weight for tram flap procedure, or ever (increases likelihood of recurrence).
*not allowed to drink...at least no more than 7 a week...and no saving up(also increases likelihood of recurrence).
*interested to see the results of genetic testing that will be done April 28th
*Also very interested to see results of genetic testing- will help to gauge if other breast and ovaries should be removed (if cancer is hereditary, then yes).
*Said ovaries don't usually give a problem until age 35 or so... so if it is hereditary, I will still have a few years to have a child before removal.
*Possibility of taking part in a clinical trial separate from the one I spoke if initially. A 10 year longitudinal study to investigate whether earlier administration of drugs given to people with bone mets (breast cancer spread to the bones) could help prevent bone mets in the first place.
*Set up a consult appointment with radiation oncologist for May 14 to discuss my radiation treatment.
*Filled out a questionnaire regarding family history of cancer. It asked about people I didn't even know existed. This meant that my mother and I had to call my grandmothers to ask questions. I mean... there is nothing like calling someone in their 80's and drilling them for details about how their siblings/parents/husband died. Ugh.
*Spoke with the Geneticist regarding family history. In addition to breast cancer, he was concerned with the "inherited predisposition to...colon and/or endometrial cancers" on my mother's side of the family. He suggested colonoscopic and/or gynaecological surveillance for my mother and her siblings. Yippee.
*Indicated that given my young age, it is more likely that my cancer is hereditary.
*He then scolded me for my lack of (rather detailed) knowledge of DNA and mismatch repair genes (perhaps he didn't know I've been out of high school for almost 10 years).
*If they do not find a mutation, that doesn't mean that without a doubt, my cancer isn't hereditary. In fact, it could be the case that "the present technology isn't sophisticated enough to identify it." (it being the gene responsible).
*I then gave about a quart of my blood (from two different spots on my arm) and was freed to go home.
*The results should be back in 3-4 months.
Interesting facts-
BRCA1 carriers
Females- 65%(or more) will develop Breast cancer and 39%(or more) will develop ovarian cancer by age 70
Males- Increased risk of Prostate cancer
BRCA2 carriers
Females- 45% (or more) will develop Breast cancer and 11% (or more) will develop ovarian cancer by age 70
Males- Increased risk of Prostate cancer
"In addition there are reported to be above average risks for a number of other cancers which are especially associates with BRCA2 mutations including those including the stomach, pancreas, gall bladder and/or bile ducts as well as melanoma of the skin or eye."
The eye??? come on!! That's grossssss.
*In case you are wondering what I am quoting, it's a nice follow up letter that Dr. Ainsworth sent me, reiterating everything that we talked about in the meeting.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
The end of chemo blog entry
I am officially two weeks post-chemo and most of the nasty side effects have started to subside. As I was lying in bed last night, I got to thinking about how different chemo was from what I expected.
Way back when this all started, my surgeon, Dr. George, told me that most of the women he spoke with after finishing treatment, told him that chemotherapy was the worst part. At first I laughed, thinking to myself... "of course you are going to tell me it's not THAT bad, you are about to freaking slice off my breast". However, as of right now, I have to say he was correct. Don't get me wrong... having your breast removed is both physically AND emotionally traumatic, and the recovery is long and painful (remember they removed tissue way up into my underarm), but it was nothing compared to chemo.
In addition, I think the isolation that I've experience over the last 4+ months, has only served to worsen an already bad chemo experience. Not having a job (to occupy the mind) and having no friends living within 2 hours of you, makes life... well, dull and dreary. Especially for someone who likes to travel and keep busy.
The fact that Adam can't come to Canada to work and be with me, makes matters worse. Big thanks goes out to immigration and the Government of Canada for that!
I mean, the jerks make it nearly impossible to get a skilled workers visa, AND won't even give citizens of the U.S.A. a holiday working visa (but will to literally 20 other countries!). What the hell?!
Anyway, on to the point of this blog :)
In order to convey the differences between what I had expected, and what actually happened during chemo treatments, I've made two lists.
Here they are:
What I expected-
-nausea (this was pretty much a given, everyone knows about it)
-hair loss
-lowered immune functioning
-mouth sores
-loss of appetite
-weight fluctuation
-metallic taste in mouth (I only had it once, thank goodness)
-needles
-muscle and joint pain (from taxotere)
-chemo brain (yes, it is real... as much as I didn't want to admit it)
What I did not expect-
-50 self-injections of Neupogen to increase white blood cell proliferation (counteract decreased immune functioning)
-change in appearance (dark circles around eyes, horrible skin)
-bloody noses (only after taxotere treatments)
-runny roses and watering eyes (taxotere)
-heartburn (possibly from chemo or 1 of the many side effect reducing medications)
-painful skin (any sort of tactile stimuli felt like poking a bruise, lasted 1-2 weeks post-chemo)
-rash on hands and face
-tingling in feet
-finger nail sensitivity
-mystery bruising (usually on legs)
-sensitivity to light/sound
-swelling of taste buds resulting in extreme sensitivity
-thick coating on tongue and cheeks (lasting over 1 week post-chemo)
-food tasting awful(from above side effect)
-fatigue (to the point where the 1km car ride uptown resulted in a nap)
-6+ trips to the hospital resulting in 2 hospitalizations and/or more antibiotics
-overwhelming feelings of hopelessness, depression, and jealousy.
Now, although not among my prouder moments, I do admit that I had moments of extreme jealousy. Being holed up in a house (so as to avoid infections... or due to a variety of side effects), while other people your age are living their lives, going out with friends and having a wonderful time, can hardly be said to cultivate friendly feelings. As I said, I'm not proud of it, but I definitely had moments where I had a strong dislike for pretty much everyone. So... my apologies. I'm thanking my lucky stars it's over.
On a positive note, here are three good things!
1) I'm heading up to my cottage tomorrow, after my consult with the radiation oncologist.
2)I've also decided that I will be making the trip to D.C. in June :)
3) I took my I.V. out on Monday. Yes, I literally pulled it out myself. After lugging that darn thing around for a week, it is a welcome change.
Way back when this all started, my surgeon, Dr. George, told me that most of the women he spoke with after finishing treatment, told him that chemotherapy was the worst part. At first I laughed, thinking to myself... "of course you are going to tell me it's not THAT bad, you are about to freaking slice off my breast". However, as of right now, I have to say he was correct. Don't get me wrong... having your breast removed is both physically AND emotionally traumatic, and the recovery is long and painful (remember they removed tissue way up into my underarm), but it was nothing compared to chemo.
In addition, I think the isolation that I've experience over the last 4+ months, has only served to worsen an already bad chemo experience. Not having a job (to occupy the mind) and having no friends living within 2 hours of you, makes life... well, dull and dreary. Especially for someone who likes to travel and keep busy.
The fact that Adam can't come to Canada to work and be with me, makes matters worse. Big thanks goes out to immigration and the Government of Canada for that!
I mean, the jerks make it nearly impossible to get a skilled workers visa, AND won't even give citizens of the U.S.A. a holiday working visa (but will to literally 20 other countries!). What the hell?!
Anyway, on to the point of this blog :)
In order to convey the differences between what I had expected, and what actually happened during chemo treatments, I've made two lists.
Here they are:
What I expected-
-nausea (this was pretty much a given, everyone knows about it)
-hair loss
-lowered immune functioning
-mouth sores
-loss of appetite
-weight fluctuation
-metallic taste in mouth (I only had it once, thank goodness)
-needles
-muscle and joint pain (from taxotere)
-chemo brain (yes, it is real... as much as I didn't want to admit it)
What I did not expect-
-50 self-injections of Neupogen to increase white blood cell proliferation (counteract decreased immune functioning)
-change in appearance (dark circles around eyes, horrible skin)
-bloody noses (only after taxotere treatments)
-runny roses and watering eyes (taxotere)
-heartburn (possibly from chemo or 1 of the many side effect reducing medications)
-painful skin (any sort of tactile stimuli felt like poking a bruise, lasted 1-2 weeks post-chemo)
-rash on hands and face
-tingling in feet
-finger nail sensitivity
-mystery bruising (usually on legs)
-sensitivity to light/sound
-swelling of taste buds resulting in extreme sensitivity
-thick coating on tongue and cheeks (lasting over 1 week post-chemo)
-food tasting awful(from above side effect)
-fatigue (to the point where the 1km car ride uptown resulted in a nap)
-6+ trips to the hospital resulting in 2 hospitalizations and/or more antibiotics
-overwhelming feelings of hopelessness, depression, and jealousy.
Now, although not among my prouder moments, I do admit that I had moments of extreme jealousy. Being holed up in a house (so as to avoid infections... or due to a variety of side effects), while other people your age are living their lives, going out with friends and having a wonderful time, can hardly be said to cultivate friendly feelings. As I said, I'm not proud of it, but I definitely had moments where I had a strong dislike for pretty much everyone. So... my apologies. I'm thanking my lucky stars it's over.
On a positive note, here are three good things!
1) I'm heading up to my cottage tomorrow, after my consult with the radiation oncologist.
2)I've also decided that I will be making the trip to D.C. in June :)
3) I took my I.V. out on Monday. Yes, I literally pulled it out myself. After lugging that darn thing around for a week, it is a welcome change.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Happy Mother's Day!!!
This Mother's Day, I really wanted to think outside the box and do something really awesome for my Momma. Problem was, those things called epiphanies are tricky little devils, and they never seem to occur when you need them.
I was really starting to worry, until the perfect idea hit me (at 7:30 this morning).
Lying in bed, writhing in pain, I thought to myself "Self, the best present you could ever give your mom would be a 6 hour totally isolated hangout sesh with you. me. whomever."
How could I accomplish such a feat, you ask? It's easier than one would think!!
All I had to do was get myself a little fever of 38.8, and wake up my mom.
We spend almost the WHOLE day hanging out in a little room in the Emergency room completely alone.
No pesky family, no flowers, no distractions (with the exception of those coming to steal my blood and stab me with needles).
It was totally awesome. Just my mom, staring lovingly at me as a drifted in and out of a rather uncomfortable fever/drug induced sleep.
The best part is that we get to go back again tonight at 10pm and AGAIN tomorrow morning at 6am for more IV antibiotics and fluids.
(note: after that point, a home nurse will come and hook me up every 8 hours for the next 7 days)
Probably should be nominated for best daughter in the world award. Probably.
(Sorry for ruining mother's day mom)
I was really starting to worry, until the perfect idea hit me (at 7:30 this morning).
Lying in bed, writhing in pain, I thought to myself "Self, the best present you could ever give your mom would be a 6 hour totally isolated hangout sesh with you. me. whomever."
How could I accomplish such a feat, you ask? It's easier than one would think!!
All I had to do was get myself a little fever of 38.8, and wake up my mom.
We spend almost the WHOLE day hanging out in a little room in the Emergency room completely alone.
No pesky family, no flowers, no distractions (with the exception of those coming to steal my blood and stab me with needles).
It was totally awesome. Just my mom, staring lovingly at me as a drifted in and out of a rather uncomfortable fever/drug induced sleep.
The best part is that we get to go back again tonight at 10pm and AGAIN tomorrow morning at 6am for more IV antibiotics and fluids.
(note: after that point, a home nurse will come and hook me up every 8 hours for the next 7 days)
Probably should be nominated for best daughter in the world award. Probably.
(Sorry for ruining mother's day mom)
Friday, May 8, 2009
Waiting for a light at the end of the tunnel.
I'm feeling a little bit frustrated at the moment. As you already know, I finally finished my chemotherapy treatments on Tuesday. It's been a long, incredibly trying battle. To be honest, there may have been a night or two (curled up on the chair bawling my eyes out because I had to go back to the ER), that I may have had doubts that I was gonna make it. I've been in and out of the dang emergency room with so many fevers and assorted ailments, that they know me by name. I've been poked with so many needles, I literally looked like a black/blue/yellow pincushion.
Relieved doesn't even begin to explain how I felt when I finished my last treatment. Hoping, although making sure not to say it out loud, that the worst of the crappiness was in the past.
One would figure that, after having your breast taken and being pumped so full of toxic chemicals that you literally can't function, it could only get better from here right?
Haha... I actually believed that. Man, how silly could I be?
Since January, I've been looking forward to finishing my treatments, so I could go back to D.C. to visit Adam, and his friends/family. It's been my bright light at the end of the tunnel, if you will.
Well, I'm finally going! At least I thought I was finally going.
I have my flight booked for June 2-13th, the one little problem being that no one will cover me for travel insurance.
Correction... they will cover me, but for nothing related to my cancer (the joy of pre-existing conditions).
So... if I happen to get a fever in D.C. and they deem it to be because of my cancer (regardless of whether it is or not), I have to foot the bill.
I think it is fair to say that insurance companies will do ANYTHING to avoid paying any sort of claim. I know that if I do go, and do happen to get sick, they will attempt to screw me in any way, shape or form possible.
Every insurance company that I've talked to has told me that my condition would have to be stable for at least 3 months (up to 6 months) before they will even begin to consider covering me.
Maybe I was a bit naive, but I had assumed that if I paid enough, SOMEONE would cover (which I was prepared to do). Apparently, I'm finding this isn't the case. So, here I am, left with the choice to either suck it up and pray to God that I don't get sick while in D.C. or cancel the only trip that has given me any glimmer of hope and happiness in the last 5 months.
I just don't understand. For all intents and purposes, Adam and I are good people. I just don't understand why there is always something standing in the way of us being together (i.e. Korean immigration issues, my cancer, Canadian immigration issues, distance, insurance issues, money issues) . I just feel so dang disheartened and beaten.
It's hard to try to keep a smile on your face and keep fighting when it feels like you can barely keep your head above water.
My second last hospitalization
He got nap time... I didn't
Relieved doesn't even begin to explain how I felt when I finished my last treatment. Hoping, although making sure not to say it out loud, that the worst of the crappiness was in the past.
One would figure that, after having your breast taken and being pumped so full of toxic chemicals that you literally can't function, it could only get better from here right?
Haha... I actually believed that. Man, how silly could I be?
Since January, I've been looking forward to finishing my treatments, so I could go back to D.C. to visit Adam, and his friends/family. It's been my bright light at the end of the tunnel, if you will.
Well, I'm finally going! At least I thought I was finally going.
I have my flight booked for June 2-13th, the one little problem being that no one will cover me for travel insurance.
Correction... they will cover me, but for nothing related to my cancer (the joy of pre-existing conditions).
So... if I happen to get a fever in D.C. and they deem it to be because of my cancer (regardless of whether it is or not), I have to foot the bill.
I think it is fair to say that insurance companies will do ANYTHING to avoid paying any sort of claim. I know that if I do go, and do happen to get sick, they will attempt to screw me in any way, shape or form possible.
Every insurance company that I've talked to has told me that my condition would have to be stable for at least 3 months (up to 6 months) before they will even begin to consider covering me.
Maybe I was a bit naive, but I had assumed that if I paid enough, SOMEONE would cover (which I was prepared to do). Apparently, I'm finding this isn't the case. So, here I am, left with the choice to either suck it up and pray to God that I don't get sick while in D.C. or cancel the only trip that has given me any glimmer of hope and happiness in the last 5 months.
I just don't understand. For all intents and purposes, Adam and I are good people. I just don't understand why there is always something standing in the way of us being together (i.e. Korean immigration issues, my cancer, Canadian immigration issues, distance, insurance issues, money issues) . I just feel so dang disheartened and beaten.
It's hard to try to keep a smile on your face and keep fighting when it feels like you can barely keep your head above water.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Just a quick post to let everyone know that I am now officially finished my 6th round of chemo. Both Adam and my mother accompanied me to the final round today. It was a rather frustrating and drawn out process... but it's now done, and I couldn't be happier.
As a post-chemo celebration, we went to a vegan Chinese food place for lunch and to see Wolverine tonight. I'm dead tired. Just two more things before I bid you goodnight...
1) I have a appointment with my radiation oncologist on May 21st to discuss my radiation treatments, that as far as I can tell, will be starting about 6 weeks from today.
In the meantime, I will be heading to D.C. 4 weeks from today to visit Adam, his family and friends ;)
2) I am starting a physiology course from the U of T next week and am really looking forward to it. It's a prerequisite for Nursing, which I am hoping to apply to in September 2010.
I've been up since 5:45 am. It's bed time. Goodnight.
As a post-chemo celebration, we went to a vegan Chinese food place for lunch and to see Wolverine tonight. I'm dead tired. Just two more things before I bid you goodnight...
1) I have a appointment with my radiation oncologist on May 21st to discuss my radiation treatments, that as far as I can tell, will be starting about 6 weeks from today.
In the meantime, I will be heading to D.C. 4 weeks from today to visit Adam, his family and friends ;)
2) I am starting a physiology course from the U of T next week and am really looking forward to it. It's a prerequisite for Nursing, which I am hoping to apply to in September 2010.
I've been up since 5:45 am. It's bed time. Goodnight.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Spring fever, taken a bit too literally.
It's been quite some time since I've been bitten by the bloggin bug, so I apologize for my extended absence. In my defense, there have been at least 3 blogging attempts made by yours truly in as many weeks. Unfortunately, seeing as the entries couldn't even maintain my interest long enough to be finished, I abandoned them, and instead probably occupied my time by checking my facebook, or staring at a wall.
As far as this entry goes, I have accumulated a plethora of information from various recent appointments that I should impart... but probably won't. Only time (and reading) will tell.
The last few days have been a little rough, so to cheer me up, my mom took me for a ride to Sarnia to indulge my hankerin for a fries supreme from Taco Bell (stop judging me). For those of you south of Canadia (or those not familiar with the joys of Taco Bell), fries supreme is basically 560 calories of fake cheese and sour cream smothered french fries, with a few pieces of tomato thrown on top to make you feel like you haven't completely destroyed your arteries (and/or Soul). I was introduced to this dish in late high school by my old best friend and my life has never been the same since. My mom was kind enough to go in and get it for me, as I hardly had the energy to walk to the car at that point. Within the first few bites, I realized that I had made a horrible mistake. Heartburn set in almost instantaneously, but the real kick in the face wasn't that it hurt, but that it tasted horrible. Quite possibly one of the worst things I have ever put in my mouth.
How, chemo?? How can you continue to ruin my life like this? First falafel, now this?
What have I to live for??
The only redeeming moment of the trip came in the form of a revelation made not 10 minutes from my house. I've always been bothered by a unnamed resemblance between Dr. Vandenberg and an unknown individual, but I could never put my finger on who that unknown was... until now. In a moment of clarity, it came to me - Dr. Phil.
Not to say that Dr. V's personality in any way resembles Dr. P's (Thank the Lord).
Why am I telling you this, you ask? I have no idea, really. Chalk it up to the sleep deprived/Tylenol 3/caffeine haze.
I guess I should throw in a couple of more important facts and junk so you don't feel like this has been a complete waste of your time. They will be in semi-point form. Maybe. Who knows, really.
In the last month-
- I started Taxotere, the second half of my chemo schedule (cycles 4-6).
-Taxotere has completely different side effects. No real nausea, but loss of appetite, bloody noses and bruising, fatigue, rash on hands/face, sensitivity to light/sound, and extreme joint and muscle pain (controllable only with two Tylenol 3's every 4 hours).
-I ended up back at the emergency room twice (fever of 101.4 degrees).
Both visits occurred 4 days after cycles 4 and 5. Both times the ER doctor gave me two options:
1)Admit me overnight for observation and IV antibiotics, or
2)Take antibiotics at home and come in the next day for chest x-ray.
Obviously option #2 won both times.
-Adam and I had a nice (extended) week together. It was quite comforting to have him there for my 4th chemo (and at the ER). He will also be joining me for my last round of chemo (May 5th) and hopefully my celebratory dinner, shortly thereafter.
-Hayley made the long trek down to Petrolia for a lovely (although too short) visit. I made sure to feed her the worst possible food while she was on vacay. So nice to be able to catch up.
I also had appointments with both Dr. George and Dr. Vandenberg, but I don't have the energy to write about them right now.
(This was actually written over a week ago. Yup...I'm awesome.)
As far as this entry goes, I have accumulated a plethora of information from various recent appointments that I should impart... but probably won't. Only time (and reading) will tell.
The last few days have been a little rough, so to cheer me up, my mom took me for a ride to Sarnia to indulge my hankerin for a fries supreme from Taco Bell (stop judging me). For those of you south of Canadia (or those not familiar with the joys of Taco Bell), fries supreme is basically 560 calories of fake cheese and sour cream smothered french fries, with a few pieces of tomato thrown on top to make you feel like you haven't completely destroyed your arteries (and/or Soul). I was introduced to this dish in late high school by my old best friend and my life has never been the same since. My mom was kind enough to go in and get it for me, as I hardly had the energy to walk to the car at that point. Within the first few bites, I realized that I had made a horrible mistake. Heartburn set in almost instantaneously, but the real kick in the face wasn't that it hurt, but that it tasted horrible. Quite possibly one of the worst things I have ever put in my mouth.
How, chemo?? How can you continue to ruin my life like this? First falafel, now this?
What have I to live for??
The only redeeming moment of the trip came in the form of a revelation made not 10 minutes from my house. I've always been bothered by a unnamed resemblance between Dr. Vandenberg and an unknown individual, but I could never put my finger on who that unknown was... until now. In a moment of clarity, it came to me - Dr. Phil.
Not to say that Dr. V's personality in any way resembles Dr. P's (Thank the Lord).
Why am I telling you this, you ask? I have no idea, really. Chalk it up to the sleep deprived/Tylenol 3/caffeine haze.
I guess I should throw in a couple of more important facts and junk so you don't feel like this has been a complete waste of your time. They will be in semi-point form. Maybe. Who knows, really.
In the last month-
- I started Taxotere, the second half of my chemo schedule (cycles 4-6).
-Taxotere has completely different side effects. No real nausea, but loss of appetite, bloody noses and bruising, fatigue, rash on hands/face, sensitivity to light/sound, and extreme joint and muscle pain (controllable only with two Tylenol 3's every 4 hours).
-I ended up back at the emergency room twice (fever of 101.4 degrees).
Both visits occurred 4 days after cycles 4 and 5. Both times the ER doctor gave me two options:
1)Admit me overnight for observation and IV antibiotics, or
2)Take antibiotics at home and come in the next day for chest x-ray.
Obviously option #2 won both times.
-Adam and I had a nice (extended) week together. It was quite comforting to have him there for my 4th chemo (and at the ER). He will also be joining me for my last round of chemo (May 5th) and hopefully my celebratory dinner, shortly thereafter.
-Hayley made the long trek down to Petrolia for a lovely (although too short) visit. I made sure to feed her the worst possible food while she was on vacay. So nice to be able to catch up.
I also had appointments with both Dr. George and Dr. Vandenberg, but I don't have the energy to write about them right now.
(This was actually written over a week ago. Yup...I'm awesome.)
Monday, March 23, 2009
How are these people allowed to be on TV?
Wow... I know it's funny to make fun of Canadians, this is mind boggling.
I'm all for jokes and such, but maybe thinking about the families of our lost soldiers before opening your face.
I mean, these guys single handedly make the entire country look like a bunch of ignorant jerks.
They've honestly got nothing better to go on about?
In other news, Adam and I are having a awesome time traveling about.
I'm all for jokes and such, but maybe thinking about the families of our lost soldiers before opening your face.
I mean, these guys single handedly make the entire country look like a bunch of ignorant jerks.
They've honestly got nothing better to go on about?
In other news, Adam and I are having a awesome time traveling about.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
Blessing and a Latte
Just a few little things I thought I would share-
1) The other day on one of my big outings to Sarnia (yippee), my mother and I stopped in to Starbucks to grab a latte. I wouldn't say it was a packed crowd, but when we went in there weren't any seat. Ever so easily frustrated, I complained to my mom as we picked up our drinks and looked for a place to sit. A patron vacated a huge handicapped table... and figuring I was the next best thing to handicapped, we took a seat. We stayed long enough to polish off a cookie and half of our drinks before making for the door. Then something strange happened, a man around my age approached us to give me a little pep talk and then asked if he could bless me. No trying to convert me. No long spiel about why I have cancer. Nothing. Just a simple blessing. It actually caught me off-guard, and was kind of refreshing. I think right now I could use a few extra prayers and blessings.
2) When I was looking online for support programs for people with cancer (people with good support systems tend to have better outcomes than those without), I stumbled upon this organization - http://www.cottagedreams.org/index.htm
Cottage owners actually donate their cottages when they aren't using them so individuals recovering from cancer (and their families) can escape for a week. The cottage owners can even get a tax receipt for the value of a weeks rental for donating, so it's a win-win situation. Amazing. I noticed a few other organizations offering similar programs, such as weekend fly fishing retreats for individuals with cancer. While fly fishing isn't exactly my cup of tea, it's a nice idea nonetheless.
3)I think my brother and Christine are coming home for a bit this weekend. I'm excited.
4) I think Adam might be coming to visit at the end of next week to be with me for my next round of chemo. Nothing says "I love you" like holding hands with someone that's getting pumped full of toxic fluids. I couldn't be happier that he will be here.
5) While I am hooked up to the I.V. for my next round of chemo, I have to wear special gloves and booties with ice in the ends. Apparently this helps my nail stay put, otherwise they may or may not fall out. I'll take pictures.
Wait... did I tell you guys that already?
6) I spent the majority of my day compiling receipts, medical records, proof of citizenship and Income tax statements so I can apply to a foundation set up to help aid individuals undergoing treatment for breast cancer. I figure that since a) I have breast cancer, b) I have no job and can not work because I am too ill, and c) I'm poor, I should be a shoe-in for funding. Hopefully. Fingers crossed.
7) I have terrible grammar.
Thats all.
Thanks. <3
Oh wait... one more thing. Melanie is taking me to go see NKOTB on March 29. Get Jealous!!! Oh... and Hayley is coming to Canada soon. Super psyched about all of the above.
1) The other day on one of my big outings to Sarnia (yippee), my mother and I stopped in to Starbucks to grab a latte. I wouldn't say it was a packed crowd, but when we went in there weren't any seat. Ever so easily frustrated, I complained to my mom as we picked up our drinks and looked for a place to sit. A patron vacated a huge handicapped table... and figuring I was the next best thing to handicapped, we took a seat. We stayed long enough to polish off a cookie and half of our drinks before making for the door. Then something strange happened, a man around my age approached us to give me a little pep talk and then asked if he could bless me. No trying to convert me. No long spiel about why I have cancer. Nothing. Just a simple blessing. It actually caught me off-guard, and was kind of refreshing. I think right now I could use a few extra prayers and blessings.
2) When I was looking online for support programs for people with cancer (people with good support systems tend to have better outcomes than those without), I stumbled upon this organization - http://www.cottagedreams.org/index.htm
Cottage owners actually donate their cottages when they aren't using them so individuals recovering from cancer (and their families) can escape for a week. The cottage owners can even get a tax receipt for the value of a weeks rental for donating, so it's a win-win situation. Amazing. I noticed a few other organizations offering similar programs, such as weekend fly fishing retreats for individuals with cancer. While fly fishing isn't exactly my cup of tea, it's a nice idea nonetheless.
3)I think my brother and Christine are coming home for a bit this weekend. I'm excited.
4) I think Adam might be coming to visit at the end of next week to be with me for my next round of chemo. Nothing says "I love you" like holding hands with someone that's getting pumped full of toxic fluids. I couldn't be happier that he will be here.
5) While I am hooked up to the I.V. for my next round of chemo, I have to wear special gloves and booties with ice in the ends. Apparently this helps my nail stay put, otherwise they may or may not fall out. I'll take pictures.
Wait... did I tell you guys that already?
6) I spent the majority of my day compiling receipts, medical records, proof of citizenship and Income tax statements so I can apply to a foundation set up to help aid individuals undergoing treatment for breast cancer. I figure that since a) I have breast cancer, b) I have no job and can not work because I am too ill, and c) I'm poor, I should be a shoe-in for funding. Hopefully. Fingers crossed.
7) I have terrible grammar.
Thats all.
Thanks. <3
Oh wait... one more thing. Melanie is taking me to go see NKOTB on March 29. Get Jealous!!! Oh... and Hayley is coming to Canada soon. Super psyched about all of the above.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Maple syrup and Swedish Berries.
http://picasaweb.google.ca/meghanlbaker/Visitz#
http://picasaweb.google.ca/meghanlbaker/HospitalX2#
http://picasaweb.google.ca/meghanlbaker/Haircutz#
Oh, and French Fries. I don't get it.
In the past, I've been informed by more than one source that cravings are our bodies way of saying "hey, dude, you seem to be lacking something in your diet... therefore, I will plague you with relentless, constant cravings until you smarten up."
However, I'm drawing a complete blank as to how Maple syrup, swedish berries and french fries could serve any purpose other than to make me ill.
What these foods could possibly be doing to make me better? Why can't I crave things like broccoli or brussel sprouts? You know... things that may actually help me in some way?
Oh... and to make life even more enjoyable, the full body skin sensitivity has returned. This kind of feels like the equivalent to having your entire body bruised... and makes being touched kind of an uncomfortable experience.
I mentioned this to both my homecare nurse and my chemo doctor and recieved similar responses from both. Basically, anything that is out of the ordinary is due to the chemo and/or neupogen. I just kinda have to suck it up and live with it until I'm finished my treatments.
I forgot that I promised no words in this post.
Oops.
Here are some pictures... and links to more pictures for those of you that can't get enough of my pretty (bald) head.
From my first shave-
From Adams visit in Feb.-
http://picasaweb.google.ca/meghanlbaker/Visitz#
From hospital visit while Adam was here-
http://picasaweb.google.ca/meghanlbaker/HospitalX2#
From my second head shave -
http://picasaweb.google.ca/meghanlbaker/Haircutz#
Thursday, February 26, 2009
This one's for Chadchad
Word to the wise.... never, under any circumstance, eat falafel immediately after (or before) chemo. If, by chance, you are asking yourself why, you will have to read the whole post. The answer will be somewhere in there. sneaky. I suppose you can just use the "find on page" function and search for falafel... that could work too. Unless I've anticipated your move and sprinkled the word throughout the post to keep you from doing this. sneaky X2.
I've figured out a few other interesting things while undergoing my treatments... for those of you who will (sadly) have to deal with similar experiences in the future, here are some pointers, tidbits to ponder, and random ramblings from moi...
1) With regards to the shiny yet fuzzy scalp that you may acquire, the culprit isn't cancer or radiation, it's chemotherapy. Chemo is also responsible for a butt load of other nasty side effects. It is, however, important to note that just because you have to undergo chemotherapy, you aren't guaranteed to lose your hair. This leads me to my next point-
2) There are many different types of chemo. When I started out, I had no idea just how many. I figured there were a couple standard ones they gave all patients. FALSE. The frequency and duration of the chemo cycles, as well as the number of cycles and the actual drug given are all dependant on several factors (type of cancer, extent of cancer etc.).
3) Before your hair falls out, your head hurts. Correction- your scalp hurts. If you have ever had your pony tail too tight for an extended period of time, that's pretty much exactly how it feels. My doctor told me it would tingle. HA. Tingle my foot... it "tingled" for about 3 days.
4) The falling of the hair doesn't happen all at once, at least not for this little lady. For me, it started while I was in the hospital (the 1st time) and continue for about 5 days before I had a minor Britney style freak out and shaved it off. I may be a little more...particular than most people, but I'm pretty sure that having a trail of falling hair following you around for a week (literally) would make just about anyone crazy.
5) People have told me that having chemo is kinda like being pregnant. Upon hearing this, I was kinda relieved. My immediate reaction was "I can handle a few cravings and some nausea, I don't even have to give birth. No problem. ". Hahaha...ugh. False.
If this is what pregnancy is like, I'm opting out. I literally can't eat for a week post-chemo. The thought (and smell) of 99.9% of all food/drink makes me want to spend some quality time with my new best friend, the toilet. The things I do manage get down are bizarre cravings that hit 1 minute, and are gone the next. It's just a case of finding and eating it as fast as possible. After my first round, I only wanted to eat bibimbap and kimbap. The staple of my last round of chemo was poutine. I have no idea what it will be this time, Corn pops doused with diet Dr. Pepper? Who knows. The good news is around day 5, this usually starts to ease up and I can cook for myself again.
6) For those of you that have had falafel, you may recall that it stays with you (read: every burp for the next 7 hours is a twisted reminder of what you did). Now, picture this happening and all the while wanting to vom every time you dare think about food (let alone smell or taste it)... ha ha. Nasty.
I will never eat falafal again.
7) If undergoing chemo, consider investing in clothing that can be cinched and loosened as needed (a nice moo moo, perhaps?). The combination of chemo and the hospitalizations has resulted in my weight dropping from 132 to 126 pounds. I know that may not sound like much, but nothing fits me. All of my pants are too big and I'm left feeling like a slob. I'm not trying to have a pity party here, I'm just trying to emphasize how having cancer can affect your perception of yourself. It doesn't bother me everyday, as it's not everyday that I leave my house (discussed in next point) but when I do, it can be difficult.
Feeling pretty when you have one breast, a bald head, terrible skin (thanks again chemo), and clothes that don't fit can be... trying. Hell... sometimes even looking in the mirror can be trying.
8) Chemo kills your immune system. The last three times I've been to the emergency room, my while blood cell count has been 1 or less (normally between 4 and 11). My neutrophil count has been virtually non-existent (neutrophil=infection fighter). I mentioned in a previous blog that chemo leaves you more susceptible to infection and illness... but I didn't know that it would be this bad. I've been to the emergency room 3X and hospitalized 2x, all this after only 2 treatments.
Which leads me to the real point of this bullet; it's tough to strike a healthy balance between staying home (which is "safe" but drives me crazy) and going out and exposing myself to potentially harmful germs (which is fun). I am now on medication that is supposed to help increase my white blood cell count , but I'm not sure how well it is working. Plus, the method of administering this medication, is uncomfortable, at best.
9) Giving yourself needles sucks. Since my first hospitalization, I've started giving myself injections of neupogen. This is how it works...24 hours after my chemo treatment, I bust out a needle and 1mg of neupogen, swab my leg and jab that sucker in. This happens for 10 days, then I get a rest until the next round. The drug is supposed to reduce the risk of infection by like 50% by boosting my production of white blood cells.
Now... for someone that has no problem sitting for hours getting tattooed, one would think this wouldn't be a problem. FALSE!
The first time I tried myself, my hand froze about an inch above my leg and I could not, for the life of me, stab it in. My nurse finally had to grab my hand and ram it in for me. Maybe it's just because I felt like such crud because of the chemo, maybe it's because I'm a wuss. Whatever the reason... it took me a good 6 or 7 days before I didn't freeze up.
ugh... this is far too long.
I promise the next one will be all pictures.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
round 2, back to the ER
meghan got a fever again so shes back in the hospital tonight. her white cell count is down at 1 and needs to be 4.2. the doctor is pretty confident this stay wont be as long because we got her to the hospital pretty early on and shes taking a white cell booster. oh, and my girlfriend is tuff as nails. like so tough you wouldnt even think to spell the word right.
if you want to call, and you should, dial 519-882-1170 and when the pre-recorded voice comes on hit 3954#.
- Adam
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
hospital time
Meghan was hospitalized two nights ago with an infection and a high fever. Shes in an isolated room with an iv that is giving her antibiotics and reducing her fever. Shes getting better but its still iffy as to what the cause is and when she can get out. The good news is that because of being hospitalized she now gets the white cell count booster shots before her chemo sessions.
if you want to call her, which you should, the number is 1-519-882-1170, then hit 2 for the switchboard then ask for her in room 164.
- Adam
Sunday, February 1, 2009
not so hot
Hi all...
Not doing so hot right now.
Had to go to emerg yesterday at 6am due to a high fever (100.4 degrees), sore throat and swollen glands (and some swelling and tenderness in the gums around a wisdom tooth that is coming in.
We called the caner clinic in London at 4am to tell them, and they said to go to emerg.
I went, and the first doctor told me that i had a virus. Ugh.
However, when the blood and urine reports came back, it turns out that I have and infection. Possibly of the wisdom tooth... maybe strep throat. I don't know. Anyway, I was put on antibiotics and told to go home.
Anyway, today my temp is 101.4. I am so weak i can barely walk around and my body aches so bad I can't stay still for long periods of time.
My mom called the cancer clinic again, and they said I have to go and have IV antibiotic and maybe be hospitalized overnight.
Awesome.
Anyway... I will try to update when I get home from the hospital.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Chemo sesh #1
I recently began drafting a blog that included information about the clinical trial side effects, and my trip to D.C. which I had promised...oh about 15 days ago? Now, as exciting as those topics are, I figured that my first round of chemo kinda trumps them, so said blog has been put on the back burner for the time being.
Tuesday, January 20th was the scheduled date for round one of six chemo treatments at the London Regional Cancer Program . As I am not allowed to drive myself, my mom and I headed out at about 8am for our 9:30 appointment.
In my whole life, I have no recollection of ever seeing a rainbow (or even part of one) in winter, until that day. Although I have no pictorial evidence, I can assure you that, albeit small, it was there. We took a little comfort in perceiving it as a bit of a good omen.
sunrise en route
Upon arriving and checking into clinic 3 at the cancer center, you are given these handy little guys.
E55 was my number for the hemo-lab. Lucky for me, the wait was only about 10 minutes until the special comfy blue chair was all mine. This comfy blue chair will be the first of three stops that I make every time I go for chemo. Prior to my treatment, I am to have my blood drawn and tested to ensure that my white blood cells, hemoglobin and platelets are all within healthy ranges. If not, then my chemo has to be postponed for a week (or until they are normal again).
The blue thing on the left is a pager for my doctors appointment. Whenever the doctor is ready to see you, it buzzes like a manic bumble bee.
Mom and I in the exam room
Although we weren't given the pleasure of speaking with Dr. Vandenberg, we were able to speak with Dr. Shim (his resident). She was the one that delivered the good news that my cancer has not spread to my bones or my liver... what a relief that was to hear.
Just prior to withdrawing from the exam room, Dr. Shim asked us to take a slip of paper to Clinic 4. There we received yet another big angry bee of a beeper, and were told that the chemo itself wouldn't be taking place for another 45 minutes. Ugh.
We managed to round up some (terrible) soup for lunch and shortly thereafter, the pager summoned us back up to the chemo clinic. A very sweet nurse whisked us down one wing of a huge L shaped room to an awaiting chair. The nurse gave me 2 warm blankets and tried to help me get nestled into what would be my resting place for the next 2 hours.
The room where the chemo is given is huge. I imagine it could easily fit at least 100 people. I never envisioned that there would be so many people having chemo at once. It was a rather eye-opening experience (and more than a little unsettling, to put it lightly).
Getting comfy
Getting needled
Getting IV'd
My Chemo meds
The first of the 3 meds that I was given was 5-Fluorouracil(flue-row-YOUR-a-sill). It is injected directly into the IV via a needle. The nurse regulates the injection, as seen below-
5-Fluorouracil
After the nurse finished with the 5-Fluorouracil, I was then administered Epirubicin (e-pee-ROO-bi-sin) in the same manner as the previous drug. This drug is bright red, and as you may have guessed, comes out looking much the same as it went in. ha.
Epirubicin
Getting taped up for a trek to the washroom 
My triumphant return
The last of the drugs was called Cyclophosphamide I.V. (sigh-clo-FOS-fa-mide). As you can probably tell from the name, it is an IV drip that takes about 45 minutes to finish.
I don't have any pictures of it being administered, cause it was kinda boring to be honest.
I.V. Finishee
Not feeling so hot at home
Overall, The chemo hasn't made me feel as bad as I figured it would. I have yet to throw up (keeping fingers crossed), and the only real problem I've been having is grogginess and loss of appetite. Every time I think about food, I want to throw up.
With a little luck, this will resolve itself shortly.
There are a few more pictures here, if you care to check them out.
Oh... and wigs are WAY expensive! After chemo, mom and I popped into one store in London (before I started feeling like crap) to take a gander. The only one that I was interested in, that kinda, sorta came the closest to resembling my hair now, cost $400. I can't begin to conceive of how I could justify spending that kind of cash on something that I need for only half a year or so. Dang...between that and prosthetic boobs, I'll be in the poor house for sure.
Tuesday, January 20th was the scheduled date for round one of six chemo treatments at the London Regional Cancer Program . As I am not allowed to drive myself, my mom and I headed out at about 8am for our 9:30 appointment.
In my whole life, I have no recollection of ever seeing a rainbow (or even part of one) in winter, until that day. Although I have no pictorial evidence, I can assure you that, albeit small, it was there. We took a little comfort in perceiving it as a bit of a good omen.
Upon arriving and checking into clinic 3 at the cancer center, you are given these handy little guys.
E55 was my number for the hemo-lab. Lucky for me, the wait was only about 10 minutes until the special comfy blue chair was all mine. This comfy blue chair will be the first of three stops that I make every time I go for chemo. Prior to my treatment, I am to have my blood drawn and tested to ensure that my white blood cells, hemoglobin and platelets are all within healthy ranges. If not, then my chemo has to be postponed for a week (or until they are normal again).The blue thing on the left is a pager for my doctors appointment. Whenever the doctor is ready to see you, it buzzes like a manic bumble bee.
Although we weren't given the pleasure of speaking with Dr. Vandenberg, we were able to speak with Dr. Shim (his resident). She was the one that delivered the good news that my cancer has not spread to my bones or my liver... what a relief that was to hear.
Just prior to withdrawing from the exam room, Dr. Shim asked us to take a slip of paper to Clinic 4. There we received yet another big angry bee of a beeper, and were told that the chemo itself wouldn't be taking place for another 45 minutes. Ugh.
We managed to round up some (terrible) soup for lunch and shortly thereafter, the pager summoned us back up to the chemo clinic. A very sweet nurse whisked us down one wing of a huge L shaped room to an awaiting chair. The nurse gave me 2 warm blankets and tried to help me get nestled into what would be my resting place for the next 2 hours.
The room where the chemo is given is huge. I imagine it could easily fit at least 100 people. I never envisioned that there would be so many people having chemo at once. It was a rather eye-opening experience (and more than a little unsettling, to put it lightly).
The first of the 3 meds that I was given was 5-Fluorouracil(flue-row-YOUR-a-sill). It is injected directly into the IV via a needle. The nurse regulates the injection, as seen below-
After the nurse finished with the 5-Fluorouracil, I was then administered Epirubicin (e-pee-ROO-bi-sin) in the same manner as the previous drug. This drug is bright red, and as you may have guessed, comes out looking much the same as it went in. ha.
The last of the drugs was called Cyclophosphamide I.V. (sigh-clo-FOS-fa-mide). As you can probably tell from the name, it is an IV drip that takes about 45 minutes to finish.
I don't have any pictures of it being administered, cause it was kinda boring to be honest.
Overall, The chemo hasn't made me feel as bad as I figured it would. I have yet to throw up (keeping fingers crossed), and the only real problem I've been having is grogginess and loss of appetite. Every time I think about food, I want to throw up.
With a little luck, this will resolve itself shortly.
There are a few more pictures here, if you care to check them out.
Oh... and wigs are WAY expensive! After chemo, mom and I popped into one store in London (before I started feeling like crap) to take a gander. The only one that I was interested in, that kinda, sorta came the closest to resembling my hair now, cost $400. I can't begin to conceive of how I could justify spending that kind of cash on something that I need for only half a year or so. Dang...between that and prosthetic boobs, I'll be in the poor house for sure.
Friday, January 16, 2009
testing, testing, visiting, testing... repeat
My undying love and devotion goes to the genius who first contemplated the use of nitrous oxide in dentistry. What a freakin whiz.
I'm sure I will dedicate far too much of my time to researching the particulars later tonight. Until such point, however, I will try to give you a brief run down of what's going on in the last few days.
My gram is in the hospital, as you already know. She has recovered well from the heart attack, but now we fear that she is suffering from a bad case of gout in her one knee and both feet. It seems that the staff are unable to make up their minds as to whether it is in fact gout, and will be running more blood tests today. Hopefully, the situation will be resolved soon, so she can start moving around again.
She is still putting on her brave face, but it seems to be getting harder and harder for her to do as time goes on. I think she is starting to worry about never getting out of the dang hospital. We do what we can to console/comfort while re-assuring her that she will be out soon enough. Dispute our frequent visits, I cant begin to imagine how lonely it must be in there for her.
This is just for the morning.
My grandmother- the actress (notice the lack of needle point).
As for me, I've been to a plethora of appointments this past week.
The schedule was a little something like this-
Friday- Ultrasound (to see if the cancer has spread to my liver)
Monday- Dentist (check-up)
Tuesday- Echocardiogram (baseline & to ensure heart is healthy enough for Tx)
Wednesday- Bone scan (to see if cancer has spread to my bones)
Thursday- Dentist (to drill my face off and fill three cavities)
All the appointments went really well. The weather, of course, didn't always co-operate, but we got through the week with no major complications(Thanks to my father and uncle for driving me to London). I will find out the results of the test on Tuesday before my chemo begins.
I did bring my camera to both the Echo and the bone scan, however, I forgot it in the car the day of the echo. I would have gone to retrieve it, had it not been for the blizzard and frigid temperatures outside. So.. I have to make do with pictures only from the bone scan. The echo was like the abdominal ultrasound in many ways...same gross conductive gel gettin all over everything. The only real difference was the placement of the transducer(I think that is the correct name?).
The abominable snowdad.
gettin radioactive.
This was 1 inch from my nose... I may or may not have been nervous
Yesterday, I had three cavities filled so they won't be problematic during my chemo.
The dentist was quite nice (although that could have just been the gas talking) and it only took about an hour to complete. During the procedure, I was thinking how much of a better place the world would be if everyone had access to that stuff. I mean, apart from the potential long term damage that could be done, and the complete lack of productivity, I think it would be a pretty interesting.
This weekend I'm heading out to Kitchener to see Melanie and Kyle (fingers crossed).
I'm really looking forward to it, but a little apprehensive about leaving my grandmother for an extended period of time. Apart from that, I don't really have any future travel plans. My chemo starts on Tuesday, so I'm sure that I will be laying low for a little while. I'll be sure to remember my camera this time(!) and post an update as soon as I'm no longer hangin out on the bathroom floor ;) haha.
Man... I wonder how I could go about sneaking some nitrous oxide into the chemo clinic.
xo
I'm sure I will dedicate far too much of my time to researching the particulars later tonight. Until such point, however, I will try to give you a brief run down of what's going on in the last few days.
My gram is in the hospital, as you already know. She has recovered well from the heart attack, but now we fear that she is suffering from a bad case of gout in her one knee and both feet. It seems that the staff are unable to make up their minds as to whether it is in fact gout, and will be running more blood tests today. Hopefully, the situation will be resolved soon, so she can start moving around again.
She is still putting on her brave face, but it seems to be getting harder and harder for her to do as time goes on. I think she is starting to worry about never getting out of the dang hospital. We do what we can to console/comfort while re-assuring her that she will be out soon enough. Dispute our frequent visits, I cant begin to imagine how lonely it must be in there for her.
As for me, I've been to a plethora of appointments this past week.
The schedule was a little something like this-
Friday- Ultrasound (to see if the cancer has spread to my liver)
Monday- Dentist (check-up)
Tuesday- Echocardiogram (baseline & to ensure heart is healthy enough for Tx)
Wednesday- Bone scan (to see if cancer has spread to my bones)
Thursday- Dentist (to drill my face off and fill three cavities)
All the appointments went really well. The weather, of course, didn't always co-operate, but we got through the week with no major complications(Thanks to my father and uncle for driving me to London). I will find out the results of the test on Tuesday before my chemo begins.
I did bring my camera to both the Echo and the bone scan, however, I forgot it in the car the day of the echo. I would have gone to retrieve it, had it not been for the blizzard and frigid temperatures outside. So.. I have to make do with pictures only from the bone scan. The echo was like the abdominal ultrasound in many ways...same gross conductive gel gettin all over everything. The only real difference was the placement of the transducer(I think that is the correct name?).
Yesterday, I had three cavities filled so they won't be problematic during my chemo.
The dentist was quite nice (although that could have just been the gas talking) and it only took about an hour to complete. During the procedure, I was thinking how much of a better place the world would be if everyone had access to that stuff. I mean, apart from the potential long term damage that could be done, and the complete lack of productivity, I think it would be a pretty interesting.
This weekend I'm heading out to Kitchener to see Melanie and Kyle (fingers crossed).
I'm really looking forward to it, but a little apprehensive about leaving my grandmother for an extended period of time. Apart from that, I don't really have any future travel plans. My chemo starts on Tuesday, so I'm sure that I will be laying low for a little while. I'll be sure to remember my camera this time(!) and post an update as soon as I'm no longer hangin out on the bathroom floor ;) haha.
Man... I wonder how I could go about sneaking some nitrous oxide into the chemo clinic.
xo
Sunday, January 11, 2009
More time spend waiting...
It's funny how all hospitals smell the same.
I mean, with all the sanitizers, sterilizers and soap, I suppose it makes sense.
I guess it would be more appropriate to say, it's funny how the memories of past experiences can be brought back by little more than the mere smell of a hospital.
I spent the better part of today in the emergency room with my grandmother, and found myself being transported back in time. Every time I shut my eyes, depending on where my mind chose to take me, I found myself either in Sacred Heart Hospital, Seoul or St. Michael's post-surgery.
With such a strong connection between olfaction and memory, it is understandable how people develop a dislike (or phobia) of hospitals. Let's face it, with the exception of maybe giving birth (depending on how long you were in labor), good things rarely happen in the hospital.
Today was one of those not so good events.
My grandmother called early this afternoon complaining of chest pain and shortness of breath. We rushed her to the hospital and this time it was her turn to undergo a battery of tests. She kept her brave face on the whole time, which I admit, helped me stay calm.
After a few hours, the Dr. came back to inform us that my grandmother had suffered a heart attack. She has been put on blood thinners and is staying overnight for observations, and will be seen by a specialist tomorrow morning.
It was almost surreal to see someone who has been such an inspiration to me, look so small and frail. Having her hooked up to so many machines, not knowing what was going to happen next, was difficult... almost heartbreaking.
I am fully aware that these things happen as we age, but we never want to admit that it can happen to our family. We never want it to happen to our family.
I mean, with all the sanitizers, sterilizers and soap, I suppose it makes sense.
I guess it would be more appropriate to say, it's funny how the memories of past experiences can be brought back by little more than the mere smell of a hospital.
I spent the better part of today in the emergency room with my grandmother, and found myself being transported back in time. Every time I shut my eyes, depending on where my mind chose to take me, I found myself either in Sacred Heart Hospital, Seoul or St. Michael's post-surgery.
With such a strong connection between olfaction and memory, it is understandable how people develop a dislike (or phobia) of hospitals. Let's face it, with the exception of maybe giving birth (depending on how long you were in labor), good things rarely happen in the hospital.
Today was one of those not so good events.
My grandmother called early this afternoon complaining of chest pain and shortness of breath. We rushed her to the hospital and this time it was her turn to undergo a battery of tests. She kept her brave face on the whole time, which I admit, helped me stay calm.
After a few hours, the Dr. came back to inform us that my grandmother had suffered a heart attack. She has been put on blood thinners and is staying overnight for observations, and will be seen by a specialist tomorrow morning.
It was almost surreal to see someone who has been such an inspiration to me, look so small and frail. Having her hooked up to so many machines, not knowing what was going to happen next, was difficult... almost heartbreaking.
I am fully aware that these things happen as we age, but we never want to admit that it can happen to our family. We never want it to happen to our family.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Patrick
For anyone who believes, please say a prayer for Patrick Swayze.
He's been hospitalized with pnemonia.
Click here to read the story.
This man is one of the toughest around.
His strength and courage is so inspirational to me.
In case you haven't seen it, here is an interview he did with Barbara Walters talking about his cancer.
May or may not have cried... just a bit.
We love you Patrick. Hang in there.
He's been hospitalized with pnemonia.
Click here to read the story.
This man is one of the toughest around.
His strength and courage is so inspirational to me.
In case you haven't seen it, here is an interview he did with Barbara Walters talking about his cancer.
May or may not have cried... just a bit.
We love you Patrick. Hang in there.
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