Under Pressure

Under Pressure - Queen with David Bowie


At this time of year, it would be hard to find someone who does not feel that they are under pressure at times, or perhaps, all the time.       There's the pressure of holidays, self imposed consumerism, family gatherings, losses, isolation, limited time, end of the calendar year, school exams, and the weather.   There's always something more to add to the list.  

Although it usually feels like we are not in control of this madness, we have to recognize that other than an immediate influence on the weather, we can release the pressures one by one to find the peace that we desire and deserve.  

I wish you all peace and happiness through this year end and holiday season.    

For a bit of fun I recommend you watch (or re-watch):  

Hello, goodbye, hello, goodbye, hello, hello

Hello Goodbye - The Beatles

When I began the process of diagnosis and treatment, my life was filled with a lot of hellos.   There were new doctors, specialists, nurses, laboratory staff, clinics pharmacists who would all support me through my treatment and healing.   I am now moving to the goodbye stage as I close off relationships with these individuals.    But not completely.

I've started to sign off, let go and, with good fortune, eventually say goodbye to my oncologist.   I only meet with her or her alternative every 6 weeks now instead of the previous visits every 3 weeks.    Over the next 5 months that will wean off to every couple months or so, then semi-annually, etc.     The hope being that at my annual visit and 5 years I'll receive the coveted "all clear" report.   That will be a goodbye that will really feel good.  

At my last appointment with my radiologist at BC Cancer was hopefully a final check in with her.   As she left the room she kindly said "Goodbye.  I hope I never see you again".    In the world of cancer, that's considered a blessing from a specialist.   A sign that they are happy to be closing your file.    In this case, goodbye feels like "Yeeeehaaaa!!!  Successful treatment and excellent prognosis."

However, once again, it seems that when I just feel like I'm completing one healing process, something else comes up.  If you need a refresher please refer to my post on August 26 - One thing leads to another.

The radiation aggravated the healing from my surgery, opening up a wound along my incision.   That means that just when I thought my surgeon's work with me was over and he was about to close the file,  I'm seeing him again very regularly.   Yup, we're now a steady item.  I'm beginning to think he doesn't want to say goodbye to me at all.      

As a result, I will be saying hello again to the wonderful nurses at the ambulatory clinic to have my wound dressed and monitored.    I saw them for 8 weeks - 2 or 3 times per week following surgery.     It's like the wound on my head that was stubborn to heal has now moved down to my chest.   Same size, shape and dimensions.   Kind of weird really.    I'm a bit worried that it will pop up somewhere else once this current wound heals.   It's like a little 'post-it' note that I can move around my body.   I guess eventually IBM's wondrous glue will wear out and the 'post-it' note won't stick any longer.   That will be the sign when I'm really healed.

The surgery also causes some atrophy and tightness of the muscles in particular the shoulder.   So that's a hello to my physiotherapist for weekly exercise instruction and IMS (intramuscular stimulation -deep acupuncture to the tight or locked muscles).  It's not for my needle shy friends but I have a past relationship with IMS and love it!!

At times I feel like am stuck in a revolving door, hello /goodbye and not quiet certain whether I'm in or out.    Am I finished treatment or still going through it?   Has my body made the decision about whether it has healed from the last 12 months of treatment?    Can I expect to sign off with my treatment providers soon.  Time will tell.   In the meantime, I apologize for my ambiguity about where I stand in the stage of my treatment.   Maybe it would be easiest to adopt the Hawaiian approach.  Aloha means both hello and goodbye.    It works for me!

Fa-fa-fa-fa-fashion

Fashion - David Bowie

Oh, bop, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do
Fa-fa-fa-fa-fashion
Oh, bop, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do
Fa-fa-fa-fa-fashion
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

I have been very fortunate to have supportive benefit programs and people at work that have allowed me to remain off work while I went through the rougher parts of my treatment.    Taking away the stress of work and juggling life around it certainly helped me to manage my recovery and maintain my sanity.  

So, now as I turn my mind to returning to returning to the corporate world; leaving the world of comfort clothes, jeans and yes, at times, sweats, I need to reassess my wardrobe.   Normally I would just move back into the clothes that I wore a few months ago, but I'm not the same person as I was a month ago.   Well, the same person, but not the same body.    Things just don't fit or look the same.

I'm not a fashionista.  Not in the slightest.   Work clothes have to do dual duty and fit into leisure attire as well.  Also, since I walk to and from work in all kinds of weather they have to fit into that activity.    I consider it daunting to go out shopping for new clothes at any point.   Well, when I 'have' to go out.   Now it's a whole new game.    Women's clothes are made for those with breasts...no matter how small, they have some allowance for something at the top.   Yes, that's what darts are there for,

There have been many who broken ground before me, 'going flat'  (ie.  mastectomy with no reconstruction) but based on what I've found by referencing blogs and discussion boards on the topic, there is no one who has addressed the unique fashion needs.    There's a market for something here!!

The key is to keep focus off the chest.   There are a few tricks without having to resort to prosthetics.   An obvious one - no low cut dresses.   Darn I guess I'll have to ditch all my Cher based attire.    HA!  Yeah, like I could pull one of those off pre-surgery!   Next, change the focus to your waist.   Well, I guess I better find mine.   Next helpful tip - Wear flares.   Really?  And when was this article written?Next up, opt for halter tops.    Ok...I'm pretty sure that a halter was designed to house something or hold something up.   One that was truly practical for me was to use for all the beautiful scarves gifted to me to deal with my bald period.   Scarves are good camouflage or distraction.   Maybe I could make a few into halter tops!! :)

Not that I think that the focus for women's clothing is all about breasts, but when you are in a conversation with someone about breast cancer, you automatically feel the gaze to your chest area.   Well, why not?  That's what you are talking about.

No complaints.  Not in the slightest - other than having to revamp the attire.   I love getting up and throwing on a t-shirt to start my day - not worrying about 'showing' anything.   No need to put on a bra.   Nothing binding, pinching or wire sticking into my ribs.   Who invented those things anyway?   Sorry to say it was a woman.   Yup.   We brought this on ourselves ladies.on

So where do I head next?  To the juniors or pre-teen department?   Fortunately my stature works well with this approach.   Not a bad idea.   It would mean no more hemming, and likely could stretch my dollar farther.   Hmmm...something to consider but I promise, you won't see me walking around the office or going out for a movie in the latest Hello Kitty attire.  

When a problem comes along you must whip it

Whip It - Devo

When a problem comes along you must whip it.
Before the cream sits out too long you must whip it.
When something's going wrong you must whip it.

A year ago this week I walked out of my ultrasound appointment with enough information to assume that I had cancer and would likely have a long path of treatment ahead of me.   Although I had not yet been formally diagnosed, I just knew it.   It takes a while for things to sink in with me and this was my mind's way of preparing me for the journey.  

At that moment I was in action.   I had a problem before me and I was in action mode.    Not running away or hiding from it but taking it full on.   It wasn't going away and in fact not dealing with it would just jeopardize my chance of survival.

The first few months while I kept the news to myself I focused on me and what I needed to do to prepare for the rush that would come with the actual diagnosis and treatment.   Those first few months of reflection helped to keep the calm through the storm to come.   I needed first to come to peace with it before sharing it with others.

So when people ask me, 'how do you do it?' well, my highly technical response is ' you just do'.   Nothing magic.   When something comes along you must whip it.   Take it full on.   Taking each day as it comes; keeping focus off the ' what if' and 'why me' thoughts.  

'Why me' comes up, but I turn that around to consider it a challenge.   A recognition that I have the strength to deal with this diagnosis and all that comes with it.      I feel stronger with the confidence that I have the capacity to take this on and turn it around and make something out of it.    I think I'm well on the way to doing so.  

So, wow - a year.   Unbelievable.   But 'a year' doesn't do it justice.   365 days is more fitting and appropriate.  It wasn't one thing but something different each day - no feelings, side effects, emotions.    I look fondly back on each of those days.  Each one carried some special moments, memories or life lessons.   Thinking back, sounds funny, but I wouldn't change a thing - diagnosis and all.  

Problems come up in life and we can't pick which ones are presented to us.  We just make the best of what we have and whip it good.

Oh, oh, oh I'm on fire

I'm On Fire - Bruce Springsteen

When I knew that I was going to go through radiation treatment, I thought - "no problem, it's a snap".   I figured I could totally function when undergoing treatment and the side effects.   Well, as it seems to be a theme - wrong again Lisa!   To summarize what I experienced, radiation is like a long walk through a patch of poison ivy on a hot sunny day.   You move through it unscathed other than slight fatigue but then a few days later you break out in itchy hives and rash.   The sun burn breaks out.   I can only imagine, never having gone through it but just let you imagination run wild.

I was warned that the side effects increase for the next two weeks following the end of treatment.   And of course, the doctors were right - again!!   So, two weeks after I was itchy, red and swollen.   Basically, suffering from 2nd degree burns where I received the radiation.   It felt, at times, like I was on fire.  My body was worn out from fighting the assault and went into defense mode.   Four weeks after the end of treatment I'm able to see how well my body can fight back.   Things are looking up but I'll admit, it was not a fun couple weeks.

I hid out the first couple weeks to sleep it all off.   The next week, after a check in with the radiologist that the swelling, redness and tightness was all normal, I rode out it out.    Then it was a matter of just going with the flow, letting my skin peel, blister and turn to leather.    Those with a weak stomach should ignore the next section.

Since I am still recovering from surgery as well, the skin on my mastectomy scars is still not fully healed.   It's a bit more tender than the rest of the skin.  As a result, it takes a more severe reaction    Ok, all the 'queezies' have been warned.    I ended up with a few small breaks in the skin along the scar line which then started to ooze and drip fluid.   When I say drip, I mean soaking through bandages and gauze and clothing and running down my front.    For those who have been pregnant before, it's the same effect of being in the room with a crying baby.   Instant soak.

Ok, 'queezies' can now re-join,   I'm through with the overly descriptive content.    Not meaning to turn anyone off.   Just trying to recap the events of the last weeks for my own benefit.

My body has now turned the corner.   I think I'm now on the down slope.   I'm going to ride through the rest of the healing and enjoy the ride.   From here it just gets easier.  The fire is out and I am starting to pick up on the little complaints of everyday life, minor colds, allergy effects, etc.   Getting a glimpse of what 'normal' used to be.

I'm tired of waking up tired, waking up tired, yeah, waking up tired

Tired of Waking Up Tired - The Diodes


My kids have gotten used to this little song of mine - well, of The Diodes.   I mindlessly chant it day and night in various tones and whines.   Well, I think I chant it - at least I know that it is constantly playing in my head.   Good thing the song has a fast tempo so just thinking about it gives me a bit of a jolt of energy.  

So, how tired am I?   Did I always feel like this but never recognized it?

I've tried to judge my sense of fatigue by doing check-ins now and then throughout the day.     So my day would start with waking up at a decent hour - 7 or 8 am after a 8 or 9 hour sleep.   Pretty good start to the day, right?    So I wouldn't shock my body into energy flow, I'd listen to the local and national news so I know what happened while I snoozed.   From there, the usual bathroom routine, dressing based on any planned activities for the day.      Downstairs to eat breakfast - a necessity now since the hormone therapy puts me into an immediate state of severe nausea if taken on an empty stomach.  I'm told that this will fade but not yet willing to test the waters.    Then feed the dog to ward off any whining.    Ok.   First check-in and my body says that it's ready for a short nap.   Really?  

So I fight that one off and instead get a few e-mails done, check the banking situation and pay off a few bills.    Maybe some fresh air will change my energy level.  So, drag the dog out the door rain or shine for a walk and perhaps a few errands nearby.     Home again and now I'm definitely ready to plop my butt on the couch.

I can push through all the fatigue and carry through for a few hours straight in the day but a few hours in, I'm dreaming of the couch, my bed, a comfy chair to doze off in.   So my new routine is to save up my energy for what is to come about for the day.   Stockpiling enough juice to get me through without my body or mind fading out midstream.

I recognize that all this is due to the cumulative hits that my body, mind and spirit have gone through over the past year.    It's all catching up with me.    It's kind of like all those cookies that you eat one by one through the year, thinking "one cookie can't hurt' and then you look down and see the extra tire above your waist band and know that they cumulatively amount to enough to feed an elementary school.    

The next month I give to myself as my recovery month.  My doctor and treatment appointment load is less onerous.  I will take the time between naps to start to recover my body and strength.    

But for now, the couch is calling me.  

I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more

500 Miles - The Proclaimers

On October 5, 2014 I walked (not ran) the CIBC Run for the Cure, accompanied by my daughter (above) and my brother.  One of my sisters also ran the event overseas - twice I believe.  Family and friends supported me and my kids in our fundraising efforts.  Thank you to all those who supported me, supported others and walked, ran or made the event happen.

I was never one to be drawn into the marketing side of these events.   While I have always supported fund raising programs and participated these as well as awareness campaigns I was always skeptical about the events as a whole.  They seemed more of a glossy advertisement to beef up the presence of the event sponsors with less focus on the actual cause.   It seemed to me that when the big sponsors got behind the events, the meaning was lost and it became more of flashy spectacle. More about the gifts and giveaways then the cause.  And really...where did all that money raised go?   Ok,  I'm now old enough to freely admit that I am frequently wrong - and this is one of those times.

The Run for the Cure (which in my case became the Walk for the Cure) is much more.  It is about fundraising, awareness and education, honoring those who have battled and lost as well as those who have battled and won and their supporters.   It builds community, allows those who believe in the cause to work to eradicate breast cancer to celebrate their achievements.

Going through treatment I can see how the money for research has helped to change treatment so that it is not only more successful but more manageable for patients.    Even in the past months I've seen the treatment patterns change as the research is ongoing.   There have been great strides in the research, fundraising and awareness and best of all survivor rates for breast cancer in particular.   Why breast cancer, well my theory is that it's due to the fact that breast cancer primarily effects women and women are great at organizing to make things happen.   Just think of school fundraising programs...primarily women on those organizing committees - yes?   Yeah for women!   Sorry guys!

We may not be able to support every cause (cancer, mental health, poverty, equality, foreign aid- the list is endless) that comes along but at least I know have a renewed faith in the benefits of fundraising programs of all sizes.   We can all do our part either through financial or moral support of those participating, It's as just putting one foot in front of the other.

Now I'm a Believer Yeahh!!!!  ( Then I Saw Her Face -The Monkees)   And, I'm ready for next year's Run.

I can't complain but sometimes I still do

Life's Been Good  - Joe Walsh

Life's been good to me so far....

Get ready, this may come across as a bit of a whiny bitch session.   I figure I'm due but my upbringing has perfected me in apologizing even if it's not warranted so first I must say '' I'm sorry for my selfish whiny bitching.''    There, I feel better already.

I'm now 9 months into treatment - 9 months since my first lumpectomy.   Since then, 8 rounds of chemo over 30 weeks, double mastectomy, introduction of hormone therapy and 14 rounds of radiation therapy.    I am tired, mutilated, maimed, mostly bald, tired, burned, scarred and more tired.   Nothing unusual for what I've been through.   I'm tired physically but tired of an increasing number of doctors appointments, treatments for side effects of treatments, and living on a schedule dictated by treatments and appointments.

I feel like I've lost control of my life.    I want to work on increasing strength and stamina but don't have the energy or stamina to do so.   Each day I get hit a bit harder with fatigue.    Reading fills the gaps between appointments and travel to and from appointments followed by long naps mid afternoon or evening.

My body is lacking in energy.  I have tried to punch my brain back into gear by starting a Spanish language course.   It feels like it is the hardest language course I've ever taken.   The information just doesn't stick.   It's like my find is made of a dense rubber and the information just bounces off it rather than being absorbed.   It should be easier based on the nature of the language and my knowledge of French.   Geez, I even retain some of my German from university years but the Spanish - nada.   I'll keep working on it but the chemo effects still appear to retain control.

I see my family and friends going on with their lives...basically just living and I feel trapped in the 'in between' not able to move forward other than in my treatment schedule.    I'm frustrated when I see my kids not taking advantage of the opportunities they have, their potential but they are in that teenage brain world so it's to be expected.  I'm encouraged by my doctors that I'm winning the cancer battle but it's hard; it takes it's toll.   I'm tired of being strong and keeping up the fight.   Right now I'd just like to go for a long nap, wake up and it's over.  Energy restored, life back to normal.

So this is my bitch...I want to be done with this.  I've done my duty, put in my time, given parts of my body to this whole journey,  taken on my scars.   I'm ready to move to the after treatment, full recovery, energy building phase.   Please release me, let me go!!!    Ooooo - that would have been a good blog title!

Thanks for listening to my little rant.   I'm now feeling much better.   Back to the positive now...and continued healing.

Stop hey what's that sound

For What It's Worth - Buffalo Springfield

Week one of radiation is done.  So, what's radiation like?    I arrive a few minutes before my appointment each day and drop off my appointment card to let them know that I have arrived.  From there, I change into a gown that has been numbered and assigned to me.   I will wear the same gown for each treatment.  Nothing special about the gowns, just saves on the washing of gowns each day....all good for the environment.      Once they are ready for me, I go to the treatment room and lie down on the bed and put my arms up above my head.   The key is to lie down in the same position each day.    They have lasers that measure my position and then adjust me as needed on the bed.   This involves them calling out numbers and checking with monitors.   It moves pretty quickly but within that they are also very cheery and love chatting about what's happening.

Once I'm  positioned and taped - yes taped - to the table, they walk through the door.   As I can't move my head to see them go, there's a 'ding dong' that let's me know when I'm on my own.   That's when the fun starts.   The machines that zap me with x-rays move around me in a pre-programmed pattern.  My job is not to move while this happens.  They operate the x-ray machine remotely and it burrs and grinds all around me.   When the x-ray is active there's a continuous loud beep.   This goes on for 6 'zaps'.    The x-ray part takes less than 5 minutes.  

It's somewhat unnerving at first when you are left in the room alone with all the big machines hovering over you.   In that 5 minute period when I'm alone with the machines, ding dongs and beeps I try not to think about the fact that no one else wants to be in there with me; that the treatment is somewhat toxic; something that others want to avoid.    So why am I subjecting myself to this again?  What is so scary about being in the room with me?  Right, this is part of my treatment to reduce the risk of recurrence of my cancer.   'Ding dong' and they are back and I'm free to go.    Thank God it doesn't take any longer - who knows to where my thoughts would wander.

Get up every morning from your alarm clock's warning

Takin' Care of Business - Bachman Turner Overdrive

Get up every morning from your alarm clock's warning
Take the 8:15 into the city

This week was the start of my radiation.  It's daily treatment for 16 days (weekends excluded).   I had a choice of morning, afternoon or evening appointments and chose morning.   It has been a very long time since I have had something scheduled every day so this is somewhat of an adjustment.  

The treatments are downtown which means I need to coordinate with transit schedules and traffic patterns.  It's really a very smooth journey by transit but still, I can't do that from the comfort of my bed.   The time of the appointment is different each day and I only get the schedule for the following week on the Friday before.   This means that I often have to readjust all the other appointments that might conflict.   It's a bit of a juggling act but I seem to have it under control.   It's somewhat like trying to keep a work schedule going when you have to book meetings with a number of parties.   It's always up to revision.

The treatment itself takes 15 minutes maximum and they run like clockwork.    First I confirm my arrival, then change into a gown - same gown every day which is numbered.   From there I wait to be called.   Pop on the table where they position me and then treatment begins.  

In the preparatory meeting for treatment, they show a video so you know what to expect.   They also do preliminary measurements so they know how to position you each visit.    They also apply a number of little tattoos to use as markers.     And yes, these are permanent tattoos.     So I now have 3 permanent tattoos - more than my teenage daughter!!!

My tattoos are small - like a small freckle but there's something about them that I love.   I am drawn to them for some reason.    I guess they are a reminder - small reminder of this type of treatment.and something that it uniquely mine.  I'm feeling very sentimental about them.   Either that or it's the effects of the hormone treatment I also started a week ago.   If I get all weepy about them then I'll know for sure.  There are many possible blog titles for that one but please don't hold your breath.  I'm hoping to keep things on the level without the potential mood swings and hot flashes.

I have become comfortably numb

Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd

I'm now 3.5 weeks post surgery.   The scars are healing remarkably well and quickly.       It's hard to believe at times that I went through such a major surgical experience.     Sometimes I want to forget that I went through a major surgical experience but I'm still allowing my body time to recover.

The funny thing about surgery was the lack of pain afterward.   I really felt very little discomfort for the first couple weeks.  The biggest annoyance was the drains under my arms to allow the body fluids to escape and the incisions to accommodate them.   There was the bruising but I don't consider that to be pain per se.  Beyond that, my chest area was covered in light bandaging to protect the incisions and felt like nothing.  Well, there now is nothing there, so I guess that's fitting.    The nothingness feeling is due to the numbness following surgery as the body recovers and the nerve endings start to regenerate.   That will take time, perhaps months.

What does that feel like?    It's like the numbness from dental freezing....only my whole chest.    Really weird considering with breasts that used to be a very sensitive area.  Today I received my little pin prick tattoos for radiation.    I didn't feel a thing.   With that in mind, maybe it's a good time to get a full scale tattoo on my chest. Any suggestions?

Slowly as the numbness fades (is that a line in a song?  If not, it should be) I get the bruising feeling in my lower rib cage.  It feels like I ran into a wall or had a good collision on the soccer pitch.   It's nice to feel something even if it is bruising.   However, as I wait until everything recovers, I have become comfortably numb.

Slow down you're doing fine, you can't be everything you want to be before your time.

Vienna - Billy Joel

The past 6 months have been a rush between surgery, treatment, good days, bad days, surgical adventure and recovery.   I need to now constantly remind myself to slow down and take the time to recover.   It's like giving myself permission to let go, ask for help and delegate.    I like to think that I'm getting pretty good at it.

I'm still recovering from chemo - feeling the cumulative energy drain but happy not to be knocked down again every three weeks with another treatment.     I'm also recovering from surgery - more of an energy drain then I had considered.   My little midnight adventure in the hospital didn't help at all either.    There are up and down days now that I measure by the length of my walks or tasks accomplished.

My sights are now focused on the end of this journey but won't rush myself through the process.  I will take the time for my body to receive and recover from the treatment.  There's still quite a bit to come my way.   The next treatment on my plate is radiation - 3.5 weeks of daily treatment likely to start 2-3 weeks from now.   From what I have been told that is another energy zap.   From there is hormone therapy - another potential roller coaster ride but we'll take that as it comes.   I'll forewarn if I'm riding through emotional swings.

The good news is that I'm healing well.   I'm feeling good about my surgery choices.    I like to pat myself on the back about getting this far without having any major set backs, colds, or other illnesses. I was trying to convince my oncologist that there should be an award for that but it's not in the cards. I apologize if I raised any alarms with my surgery posts.  Looking back I guess it might have been a bit overwhelming.

Another good sign is that I am now gaining back hair.   Sadly my legs are the first to show signs but I now have a five o'clock shadow now on my scalp as well.    I'll follow the pace of hair growth as a good reminder of the speed that I should pursue on recovery - slow and sure.  

I want a new drug

I Want a New Drug - Huey Lewis & The News

Through the process of surgery and recovery I was provided with multiple regular tylenols every four hours day and night for a period of 4 days.    The intent was to allow me to relax and sleep.    So, by the time I was home, my body had forgotten how to fall asleep on its own.     I spent the next two nights and days wide awake - aching to fall asleep.   Counted sheep, counted down from 1000 by 2's, 5's and 10's, ran through the lyrics of every Bruce Springsteen that I knew.   Sleeplessness continued.

I was begging for something, anything to make me sleep but not leave me drugged.    It's a fine line there as I don't manage pain meds very well.    A consult with the pharmacist provided limited relief and a few hours of sleep one night but a grand headache in the morning.

Next up, a recommendation from the community health nurse checking my drains (probably another blog entry).   She suggested a natural health product taken just before bed.    She mentioned she got it on Commercial Drive.   Interesting.   Lots of powerful stuff found on Commercial Drive.     So I tracked some down.    That night I slept; I dreamed; I woke with a fresh mind.     I was hooked!     Three more nights of the same stuff  with deep REM and I was back in the land of the living.    I've now come full circle and I'm now 'off the stuff' and sleeping normally.  

I know, I've not told you the name of the product.   I'm not a specialist, not trained medically or in the ways of natural products and therefore can't recommend it so broadly.    However, in case you are concerned, I will confirm that it is completely legal in all provinces and doesn't require any special trips to Commercial Drive.   There's nothing particularly funny about this 'drug'.

One thing leads to another

One Thing Leads to Another - The FIXX

My surgery started out pretty straight forward, and seemed to go as scheduled.    However it lead to a night of a long string of related events.  Once I gain consciousness, the first thing was to check out the work of my surgeon.   Looking down at my chest things were certainly more plane-like.   However there was obvious puffiness in my right breast area.   My reactions were to consider one of the following:

• my surgeon had forgotten to remove the right breast
• they had discovered on opening me up further cancer spread and therefore complications with the surgery 
• the consent form I signed to have the surgery completed was wrong

I waited to hear from the surgeon or anyone in the OR the reason.   Thankfully I was advised it was common; just a bit of excess bleeding that would be absorbed by my body and as a result  blood back into my body.  I'd be pancake like on both sides in no time.  So, surgery fine but excess bleeding.

On the surgical floor there is continual monitoring which means constant interruptions through the day and night.   Result, very little or no sleep.  

As we are under a public health system, most hospital accommodation is on a ward - 3-4 beds per room with mixed gender.    I was with 3 others so that meant that everything going on with the other 3 become my business whether I wanted it or not.   As a result, more interruptions, noise and activity further creating complications for attempts to sleep.

To help manage the physical effects of being cut open, pain medication is provided regularly as a matter of rote.    For me, pain medication of any type results in fuzzy brain, no matter how mild the strength.   So no pain results in no brain but can help with sleep, however the sleep is drug induced so not very restful.

Over the next hours, the nurses, on-call surgeon and, of course, I waited for the bleeding to stop on its own.   In the meantime, the pressure built under my skin on my upper chest and arm pit as the fluid collected internally.  

So, by 'lights out' I am building pressure from the ongoing bleeding, aroused every 3-4 hours to check vital signs and in a drugged haziness.   Add to that gas and sore throat from being under anesthetic.

By wee hours of the morning, I had lost enough blood that my body went into shock.   So added to the above I was dizzy, in a cold sweat and freezing - teeth chattering freezing.    

 There was a student nurse assigned to me along with the regular nurse.   She was great but student means that everything takes that much more time as every procedure is reviewed and questions asked.    That meant for the surgery prep - the catheter was attempted - 3 times.  I'm all for on the job training so I bit my tongue - likely literally - and 'high fived' her on final successful attempt.    Way to go Heather!

Out of surgery and back to my surgical bed by early morning for yet another night in hospital.

So, to summarize the chain of events - (If I could put in a process map I would):
surgery = bleeding = drop in blood pressure
             = pain, gas, sore throat
pain = medication = monitoring = no sleep
drop in blood pressure = shock
shock = chills and sweating
bleeding = additional surgery
additional surgery = one more night in hospital
night in hospital = no sleep, more medication

It could almost make 6 months of chemo seem like a breeze!

Next up a few weeks of healing and then we jump on the radiation train.

Where everybody knows your name

Where everybody knows your name - (Cheers Theme) - Gary Portnoy

The lab at the hospital has become just that place - the place where they all recognize me and know my name.   They greet me as I come into view and look at me with that 'weren't you just here' look.    They know the temperament of my veins, which ones are prone to cause trouble and just the right sized needle to use.   (I apologize to the needle squeamish in the crowd).  Quite fitting (with the bar theme) that I'm running my own little draft bar for them dumping vials of plasma at will.    Will that be a glass or a half litre of the red stuff?

I go there every three weeks to get regular blood tests but lately I've been doubling up on that.   Every time my blood levels drop, it means more blood tests so more blood drawn.   Add to that the pre-surgery prep and retests and I've had blood drawn 5 times in the past 10 days.   I'm considering charging them a small fee for each vial.   They pay for your blood in the U.S. don't they?

Celebrate Good Times!!!

Celebrate - Kool & the Gang

There's a party going on right here.   A celebration to last throughout the years!

Yahoo!!!   Finished my chemo!!!    Six months of chemo treatment under my belt with only a few hiccups along the way.   I was fortunate not to have any trips to the emergency or hospitalization, which can be common.   Celebrate good times, come on!   

In some chemo centres there is a tradition to ring a bell when you finish your chemo treatments.    It's not a tradition at the centre I attend.    Don't worry, there were bells rung at home and a far when the treatment ended.    Everything from Christmas bells, tinker bells to bear bells.   Let's celebrate, it's all right!  

Thanks to all the family and friends who carried me through that journey both with physical and spiritual presence.  Every little bit helped. Everyone around the world, come on!  

I can see you dancing!!!!!

Hit me (baby) one more time

Baby One More Time - Britney Spears

Here we go again.  Another delay with my treatment.    The white blood cell counts were took a big nose dive this past week and once again my treatment has been cancelled - put off for another week.   To take a favorite saying from my family's past - "Poop, Bum, Scum"!!!!   -much safer than saying 'shit' in our house and I think a bit more colourful.

So, I'm still waiting my last chemo treatment.  Honestly, I'm not trying to drag this out any longer just going with the flow.   I'm back to the daily stomach injection of white blood cell boosters.   It's a bit of a hassle but the good news is that I go to this great clinic for the shots and the doctors there are great.   I get 3-4 different doctors in a week which is typically not considered to be a good thing but since they are only giving me a shot, I'm not looking to them for medical advice.    Instead, I gain the wisdom and experience from these doctors who have all taken the time to chat with me and support me.   I take away little pearls of wisdom with each short visit.   It's like speed dating for a doctor.   If I was in the market for a new one this would be the way to do it.

My mind has been polluted and my energy diluted

I've Been Waitin' for Tomorrow (All of My Life) - The The 

I'm heading into my final chemo treatment next week barring any hiccups in my blood counts.    I can now feel the toll that 7 treatments has taken on my body and my mind.     When I have energy it's short lived and no where near the levels I was at just a mere 5 months ago.  I need to balance the days that I get out to hike, garden or run errands with complete down days and I know when I need them.   When I'm tired, I'm really tired.

I don't know if 'chemo brain' really exists but there's something more than age happening to my brain waves. It's definitely there immediately after treatment.  My teens give me that weird look when I try to continue a conversation with them that only started in my mind or question them about something that was clearly chemically induced - polluted with chemical cocktails.   In between treatments it might be that I've lowered my stress levels so that I don't worry myself about remembering things.    My trusty Blackberry keeps me on task.

I'm so happy to have made this this far with only a few minor bumps along the way.   I wouldn't say that chemo is easy for everyone or even for me, but just a matter of taking it in stride and letting the drugs do what they are intended to do.   I'm happy to get a refresh on my hair but then really we all lose our hair on a daily basis so it's really not that strange.  Chemo just makes it fast forward a bit.  

Now I'm 'waiting for tomorrow' - wanting to move on to the next stage of my treatment.  The last stage of a report, project or schedule is almost the most difficult for me.  I always see myself at the next stage.    So now I am 'dreaming' of surgery (August) followed by radiation (September-October).

Surgery won't drag out for weeks, other than recovery so it's the most attractive part of my treatment right now, although it will be the one that has the most of a long term effect on me.    I will be going through likely a bilateral mastectomy; loosing the boobs - 'going flat' for a period until I make a final decision on reconstruction which may never occur.  I can think of many a blog to write about that as it will be a very personal process.    A change in image but also I hope a sense of freedom.  Most importantly it will allow me to leave my 'defective breasts' behind and move on.

My breasts:  Through the process of 20 years of mammograms (boy could I tell you some stories), ultrasounds, needle biopsies and doctors' visual examination of my breasts I've been told that they are 'immature', 'dense', 'unremarkable' and since my lumpectomy in January the right one has been stated as 'slightly deformed'.  I have this all in writing on my doctors' reports as a reminder now and then.  I don't take it to heart; certainly my self image is not based on my breasts, but my breasts have taken not only the physical assault of surgery and years of trying to stuff them into uncomfortable bra-like structures, but also this verbal abuse.  I have to feel for them - pretty rough stuff to take.  They've gone through a lot and it's time to end it all.   I'm pretty happy for them - they are retiring and I think it best if they do that together rather than one at a time.     They will be retiring abreast or to stretch a point 'bi-breast'.    I will miss them am o.k. to move on.

Stuck in the Middle

Stuck in the Middle with You - Jeff Healey Band

I'm trying to get to my last chemo treatment but the battle is to get my white blood cell counts elevated to levels that allow treatment to proceed.  Levels too low put me at risk of picking up all forms of infections, colds, viruses but also the chemo drugs knock down your levels even further so you need to go into it with a bit of a fighting chance.

Following this most recent chemo my post chemo care was to receive daily shots of neupogen for 7 days.   The shots are to be given subcutaneously (beneath the skin) or more commonly known as 'into the fat'.    Best spot to find that fat (in particular on me) is in the stomach.    So, every day I go down to the clinic for a shot in the stomach.   No real pain other than having to remember to do this each day.   Sounds easy but twice I've napped through the hours of the clinic and had to scramble to find another open clinic.    I also have to bring the drugs to the clinic, keeping them cold at all times and not shaking them.  So I couldn't name this blog post 'drugs in my pocket II' unless I include an ice pack and cautiously glide my way to the clinic.   Gliding is not in my nature.

When they give the shot they try to avoid any veins but if they happen to hit one you are rewarded with a big red blotchy bruise.   Seeing that each day when I dress is a good reminder that 'oh yeah, I have to go get another shot today'.

With low white counts, hanging around a walk-in medical clinics triggers immediate anxieties of picking up the many possible viral ailments accompanying all them other waiting patients.   It's like a little trigger set off when I walk in the door - immediate defensive mode.  In case anyone is in the market for a good viral fix, I suggest going to a clinic on a Sunday and hang out in the kiddie section.    Fortunately the medical community is very sensitive to the risk and they, without asking, fast track neupogen patients to the front of the queue.    Phew....I can get out of there before the anxiety really kicks in and I feel the need to resort to wearing a mask, obsessive handwashing and wiping the waiting room chairs with antibacterial spray.   Don't get me started on what gets it feels like to get on a crowded bus-too many potential pathogens,  Yes for $2.75 I can temporarily be knocked down a few levels on Maslow's hierarchy of needs.  

The Waiting is the Hardest Part - old post

The Waiting - Tom Petty 

- Sorry....repeat...I was just correcting this one and it popped to the front of the line.


There is a bit of a song lyric theme there starting here.   This one courtesy of Tom Petty.

One of the things that is holding up my treatment is a CT scan.  Found out that it's not scheduled until late February so that means, no treatment until March.   Yup - 4 months since I got serious with my GP about the lump.    Urrrrggghhhh!   I want to take control of this but my lack of a medical degree kind of limits how much I can really do.   I'm in pretend doctor mode.  Found myself stepping out of my range of expertise this morning when I was reading BCCA chemotherapy procedure protocols for physicians.   No, not the patient guides but the physician guidelines.    Yup, I was way out of my league there.  Time to step back.   Learned a lot but I am not sure it is even relevant to me.

Now that I am feeling almost healed from the surgery and post surgery infection I am ready to get into the hard core treatment.    Still weeks until that comes about though.  Seems unbelievable but I appreciate that there is an order to all of this.

So I am going to dedicate my energy to fitness and healthier eating.

Fitness - I need to restore what I lost while going through the surgery recovery and establishing a routine that will carry me through the next months.   Starting with a long walk on the seawall tomorrow.

Healthier eating - Going to follow the wonderful recipes in my Cancer Fighting Kitchen recipe book - Thank you Nancy.   The kids are on a health routine as well just naturally - more trips to the gym, running and walking.   I even bought chia seeds the other day.   I figured that if I fail my healthy eating goals I can always slather them on some old clay pots and sell them as chia pets.  

This whole thing must be contagious because I found the dog gnawing on the kale I was storing out on the deck.   He was pretty happy when I gave him all the rough stems I cut off - too tough for my smoothies.  New age dog eating home cooked food and raw kale.    Only in BC!

Olé Olé, Olé Olé

Feeling Hot Hot Hot - Buster Poindexter

It's hard not to be drawn into the world of soccer these days with the Men's World Cup tournament.   Everyone in the world becomes a soccer fan and expert over the length of the tournament.  Suddenly people are watching soccer on tv; many of whom would never think of it between tournaments.

Over the years, soccer has provided me many things.  It has provided me with emotional release during stressful times, enabled me to remain relatively fit, and provided me with connections to a wonderful group of soccer people - mostly women.  It has re-enforced my appreciation for the power of community.

Soccer gave me strength and endurance when I needed it most during treatment.  Due to the fitness level attained prior to chemo, I was able to get out to hike and walk through the full treatment schedule, in fact, due to soccer, I was reminded that I needed to get out to feel normal.  My body was used to moving and it was too much a change through treatment to just stop moving.  I had to slow down gradually.

Soccer taught me to play through even when conditions were not favourable.   Anyone who has played soccer in Vancouver knows that the usual soccer season runs through the winter, not the summer.    Games continue through rain, wind and hail.   Only an iced or snow covered field will stop the play and there's not a lot of snow here.    Treatment continues even when you aren't feeling great, the timing is perfect, or there's something else going on in your life.    You have to settle for not feeling great a lot of the time and finding the new normal.

Soccer is all about playing your best both individually and as part of a team.   The Messis of the world don't win or lose tournaments.   My treatment is the same.   I have to treat myself well, eat well, exercise and ask questions do my best to keep myself strong.   I have to work with my extensive team of medical professionals, family, friends, team mates, co-workers and neighbours to help me reach our common goal to keep me healthy.  

The World Cup play has shown me what it means to push even farther even when you know that you have played your full game.  When you are forced into overtime you keep going even though you have no energy left.   As each treatment drains more of my energy, I need to draw a bit deeper day by day to move forward.   I move a bit slower; that's ok but a sign that I need that much more energy to move.

It's about learning to take disappointment gracefully.    To take the disappointment and look back and celebrate the successes so far.   It's hard to do but the second place team or the player who missed the crucial shot does the same.   It's about recognizing those little missteps and turning them into positive moments.  My goal was to complete me treatment on schedule without any disruptions or delay.   I felt like I'd lost when my treatment was delayed just a week.  A set back and a failure to achieve my goal but I know that I've fought hard so far and won't let one set back ruin all the prior successes.

I'm on a theme here with these past two posts.  I guess I'm still working through the disappointment.  The tournament is now over and my next treatment now lined up this week so it's time to move on.   I'm getting to the finish line of chemo with more 'wonderful adventures' to follow.

P.S. Anyone who doesn't want to wait until 2018 for more World Cup madness can enjoy the Women's FIFA World Cup in Vancouver in 2015.  Ole, Ole, Ole, Ole!!!!

 

How am I going to be an optimist about this?

Pompeii - Bastille 

Dang it!!!!    I went in for my treatment today and my white blood counts were too low so treatment was delayed for a week.   That blows my goal of completing chemo without missing or rescheduling a treatment.   That puts off my 7th and second last treatment for a week or longer depending on when my counts are up and I can be scheduled in.

It's not uncommon to be rescheduled or be delayed so I shouldn't be so bummed about it but it really gets to me.  It's like my body isn't playing the game along with me anymore.    Just when I thought we had the routine all down pat.   I guess I'm not the one in control.  So now I take new drugs to boost the white blood cells - a shot a day and wait to be rescheduled.

It's easy to get bummed out so I'll try to take the positive approach to this.    Let's see.....

• the weather is nice
• I don't have to worry about the side effects of the chemo drugs for another week
• although I can't have treatment, I am not feeling too bad
• other than the usual side effects, I haven't had any other complications
• I have time to spend with family and friends when I am not suffering from pain or illness from the chemo
• I have time to catch up on my reading and idiotic television shows
• it shakes things up a bit - change - and I like change
• one week delay in a 24 week procedure is minor - 1 week is 4% of the time so extending for another week isn't really a big deal
• there's still two FIFA games to watch 

So really.  What's the big deal?   Just another bump in the road.   Still on track, still headed in the right direction.

I feel good - na, na, na, na, na, na, na

I Got You - James Brown

I haven't been writing lately.   When I don't write in my blog, it usually means I'm feeling pretty good; I have energy: I can get busy.   So, that's where I'm at now.  Week two of treatment number six.

My treatment is going well and I feel somewhat guilty at times for feeling so good.  Shouldn't I be parked on the couch or in the bathroom?  I do have my down days and the couch has been getting much more use than it did in the past.   I now know how many TV channels I have and know that there is really nothing on.  So there are up and down days.  

When I have a side effect from the chemotherapy, it's a good thing.   It means the treatment is doing what it is expected to do.    So I can't complain about side effects.  I am thankful that they exist and just need to deal with them.

My energy level is lower than it was 4 weeks ago which is expected.    I've gone through another round of treatment but I didn't have the same intensity of pain as the first one on the new drugs.   It was manageable and I knew that it was temporary and it still allowed me to get out for short walks once or twice a day.  

I've noticed that I now walk slower.  It takes just that much more to put one foot in front of the other so things move slower.  Not even a soccer ball in front of me will quicken my pace.    Hills are a good challenge but I can feel gravity pulling me down.   They are still great though and a good challenge.   Imagine an old dog walking down the sidewalk and that's how I feel some days.   No rush, just plugging along but I'm getting it done.

My treatment is provided locally and I am fortunate to live close to the clinic so I can walk there and back.   And, yes, I do walk to and from treatment.   I know, I didn't think it would be possible but it's a short walk and after sitting for 6 hours in a hospital chair there's nothing better for the soul then stretching your legs, getting some fresh air and getting back into the world.     Actually, it's good therapy at any time, even now when you are sitting in front of your computer or smartphone.   So get out there but if you see me remember to slow your pace a bit to allow me to catch up.

Give a Little Bit, Give a Little Bit of your Time

Give A Little Bit - Supertramp

Last Saturday there was a Relay for Life which is a fund raiser for cancer research.   It's a team event and I'll admit that I know little about the details of the fundraising.   The event was being held at a local park and having nothing to do I sent a note to the organizers to see if they needed any last minute help.   I figured I could help out in some way and even the little bit would benefit the cause or at least relieve the other volunteers.   Then I could go home and nap.

I was able to help out for 4 hours selling smoothies donated by a Booster Juice and helping out with some children's games.  All proceeds donated from sales or fundraising went to cancer research.   It was great to see all of the community involvement and the energy generated by the event.     I wanted to thank every one of them, knowing full well that they were fundraising not for me alone but for those they knew who had either battled cancer in the past or were facing it at the moment.

The funds and research in the past enables my current treatment and allows me to manage so well through this journey.   It was a little giving of time on my part but something important for me to do.  A reminder that there are many more people out there with their own challenges whether that be cancer, other medical issues, mental health or other personal challenges.   There's always an opportunity and ability to give something to others no matter what situation we may be in.

There's so much that we need to share, send a smile and show you care.

I haven't got time for the pain

I haven't got time for the pain - Carly Simon

I was happy to have completed the 4 rounds of 'AC' drugs.   One of which is referred to as the 'red devil'.    I was a bit anxious starting up a new chemo drug with treatment 5 even though I had been told by my oncologist that I would likely have mild if any symptoms.     Still, something told me I wasn't going to be loving this.

I was pleased to find that the treatment day was really uneventful.  A full day but really I'd have to stretch it to dream up what might have been any type of immediate side effect.    Lack of energy is a given so it doesn't count.     Next day was good too and pretty much the same for the first part of the next.  All that worry for nothing.   However by the afternoon I started to get some tell tale signs that my anxiety was well founded.

In short, the next 3 days I experienced some of what many people experience daily - increasing arthritic pain in my feet legs and hips.   This is a side effect 'most commonly' experienced due to this drug.    It comes on quickly and increases in intensity but generally only lasts 3-4 days.    The pain wasn't so bad for me but rather the fact that it comes on quickly and doesn't last long so that it's very hard to find the balance for how to manage it with medication, exercise and hot baths.   As a result, I was just basically miserable, restless and desperate for it all to end.   Wish I had found these lyrics then:

I haven't got time for the pain
I haven't the room for the pain
I haven't the need for the pain
Not since I've known you (new drug Taxol)

I am very aware of all those who suffer arthritic pain on an ongoing basis.   I had a very short glimpse into that world and gained a new respect for those who push through it each day with a smile.

When I'm provided a new drug I also am given a patient info sheet which includes the potential risks and side effects.    Luckily it's in a format that is much more user friendly then the long narrative provided when you pick up a prescription at the pharmacy.   So I read these new sheets very thoroughly.   I've now figured out that I fit into the 'most commonly' category for side effects but fortunately my experience is not compounded by the 'commonly' category of side effects which would just add more to the mix.   Experiencing some or all of the side effects is a sign that the drug is doing what it's supposed to do.

By day 7 the pain was gone and I could work on regaining the balance on decreasing energy levels and get into a routine, symptom free.    I'm hoping that this side effect was a one-time thing as my body gets used to this new drug but if not I'll make a little time and room for the short term pain which is there to give me a much greater long term gain.  

A whole new world, a new fantastic point of view

A Whole New World - Walt Disney's Aladdin, Alan Irwin Menken; Timothy Miles Bindon Rice

Now that I'm 12 weeks into chemo treatment I have discovered that I've settled into a new routine in my mornings; a new routine and a new normal.  It's funny how quickly we can develop new habits.   My physiotherapist once said that it takes 2 weeks to change a habit.    Well, it seems that every 2 weeks I adopt a new habit to add to my new routine so I guess I've been continually adopting for the past 12 weeks.

The old morning routine was to first check my hair in the mirror to determine whether a hair wash was a necessity.    If so, take a long, hot shower, moisturize, brush teeth, search the closet for something decent to wear to work and also walk through whatever weather I will face on the walk to work, run a comb through my hair, make a quick breakfast and go to work, returning 9 - 10 hours later.

My new routine now runs like this:   Wash my face, moisturize with extra sun block on face, neck ears, and scalp, brush teeth, pencil in eyebrows, dress in walking clothes, tie a fancy head scarf or throw on a toque depending on the temperature outside, make a fresh smoothie, catch up with the kids before they head off to work or school, head out for a walk with friends/dog or off to one of the doctors appointments/medical tests, then returning to nap in the afternoon.

More recently, I've recognized that whether I had a shower or not used to be driven by the state of my hair or whether I had just played soccer or run.   Now that I am bald and lacking hair on the rest of my body, my shower triggers have changed as well as the length of showers.    Think of it.  Most of the shower routine, at least for women, is spent on cleaning or removing hair.   Without it...showers time is drastically shortened.    Every now and then I find that I have to remind myself to have one.  

Another 'new' was buying 'running shoes'.   I had outrun my old pair and by their age could identify their whereabouts in the house based on their odor.   So time for a new pair.   Normally I would get something for long distance running whether I ran the miles or not it made me feel like I did if I wore the shoes.    This time, I came to the realization that I wasn't going to be running for the next few months at minimum so I was now looking for walking or hiking shoes.  I am no longer a 'runner'.   Well at least temporarily.

Having a weekly schedule is also quite difficult because just when I feel like I'm getting into a routine, I've finished my three week cycle and I'm due for a new treatment which then throws me back to the start of the last cycle only a bit more tired each time.   It's like starting over again every three weeks. It reminds me of the movie Ground Hog Day.   Waking up every three weeks to start the whole thing again.   Then put your little hand in mine, there ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb.   Babe, I got you Babe.      I Got You Babe - Sony & Cher 

Whooah, we're half way there.

Living on a Prayer - Bon Jovi

Yeah!   My treatment number 4 finished.   I'm half way through the 8 treatments of chemo.   I should say that 'we' are half way through the treatments.   I am very pleased that the side effects that I have experienced have not been severe.  Well, I guess total hair loss may be considered severe but I have been able to be active and feeling somewhat normal.   Actually at times it seems a bit surreal to think that I am going through cancer treatment.  I guess I expected a bit more.  Hey but I'm not complaining.   I lose a day or so of energy each treatment but since I'm used to that I ramp things down the first week so let my body heal.

So now it's Time for a bit of celebrating.   A good dinner out with the kids or my 'houseslaves' as I foundly refer to them.   I have to wait until my interest in food returns.  Well, my interest in the good stuff like chocolate and wine.  Right now my body just wants simple fresh stuff...none of the fun stuff.

The next set of treatments are different drugs, one that will be given for 4 rounds and the other for a year.   Yup, a year- every 3 weeks.   This drug is specific to the chemical make up or the markers in my tumor.   I look at it as a good thing - getting a drug that has successful results for this tumor marker means my treatment itself will be more successful.    With every drug comes some sort of side effects - just watch an hour of American TV and you'll get a good 15 minutes listening to commercials filled with side effects of all the new trendy medications.  Everything will be monitored so no worries.  Continued exercise helps to ward off the side effects of the drugs.  Does that mean that if I spent more time hiking in the bush after my first treatment that I would not have lost my hair but looked more like a Yeti?

These next four treatments are also longer.  Instead of 2.5-3.0 hours in the chemo centre, I'll be there for 7-8 hours.    That means my Kobo, a bit of company; maybe a few naps.   The people in the clinic are fantastic and most are pretty chatty and quite open to sharing their stories.    The centre also has portable DVD players and a library for movies.  So, lots of options there.

Right now I will focus on the next 2.5 weeks, building energy, getting through my to do list, getting some project work done, hammock time, a few medical tests and enjoying what I hope will be lots of sunshine and warm.   Yes Franny - I'll be wearing sunscreen and a hat!!  :)

Thank you to each one of you for carrying me through these past 4+ months of treatment.  It would have been a rougher road without you.

Red-Headed Woman

Well, brunettes are fine, man
Blondes are fun
But, when it comes to getting the dirty job done.
I'll take a red-headed woman, a red-headed woman.
It takes a red-headed woman to get a dirty job done.

Red-headed woman - Bruce Springsteen

Your beauty is beyond compare
With flaming locks of auburn hair
With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green

Jolene - Dolly Parton

I once again have hair on my head;  when I choose to.   The wig has arrived.    Funny but I've become so accustomed to being bald that having a full head of hair seems almost foreign to me.    This is going to take a bit of getting used to.     I don't yet see 'myself' with the wig.

I tried to replicate my early years of being a red-head; wiping away the decades of dulled, greying hair.    It still is not 'hair' to me.   Having never dyed it - this wig looks unnatural although I see lots of women around likely not going through cancer treatment who have the same hair colour - so I guess it will blend in.  

I'm not in love with it yet as I've heard others in their attachments to their wigs, but it has it's purpose.   As my daughter said to me that when she sees me in the wig it is very calming - she forgets that I have cancer.    So that in itself is key reason to wear the wig.    It gives us all a bit of a relief from the journey.    The kids can look on me as 'Mom' and not as 'sick Mom'.  A bit of a respite from the ups and downs.   When I am out of the house, I don't have to feel that everyone is assessing my head covering and trying to figure out whether there is any hair under it.  

With one solution comes another problem.   Since I don't have eyebrows or eyelashes - chemo drugs- any stray wig hair goes straight into my eyes.   Very annoying.

What's it feel like to wear a wig?   Well, I guess it's like wearing a light hat.   A bit breezier than a toque which is good now that the weather has warmed.   And it can let me step out of the cancer world for a few moments and just be 'normal' - lost in the crowd.

Climb every mountain

Climb Every Mountain - Rodgers and Hammerstein

I've read many stories, blogs and articles by people who have survived or are in the midst of a cancer journey.   Many of such stories emphasize the importance of setting a goal for the end of the journey.   Something to strive for and think beyond the treatment and recovery.    For some that might be just getting back to normal, others it's a bigger goal.     Thinking beyond carries me through each day and keeps my mind off the day to day annoyances and helps me to focus on what  I expect to be renewed and increased energy following recovery.

As an example, Terry Wingham, a breast cancer survivor, started an organization A Fresh Chapter Alliance Foundation that takes cancer survivors to far reaches of the world to volunteer and celebrate an adventure following the completion of cancer treatment.  Cancer is only one chapter in some of our lives.     For her, it all started with a blog.

I've set one goal - to complete a portion of the Camino de Santiago in Northern Spain.    To get there, my training starts now.   Every walk, even the short trips around the block during what I call my 'down' weeks gets me closer to that goal.      I've pondered walking the Camino over the years, verbalizing it more and more each year but now seems to be the right time.   Maybe this is exactly what I needed to make it happen.   In the short term, my goal is to tackle the NorthShore trails, one by one, completing the Baden Powell route along the way.   For those not of Vancouver - the Baden Powell trail is a trail that crosses the north shore mountains from Horseshoe Bay to Deep Cove (41 km or about 10 hours of continuous hiking).    

Warning:  smarmy stuff ahead!!

My but my breast cancer travels are part of my prep for the Camino.    Each treatment is another mountain or stream to forge.     I'm following my rainbow to the end of treatment and being cancer free.  

Thank you to all of you who have and will share steps with me along the way whether that's joining me on a walk, sitting with me through treatment, making a family meal,  sharing a laugh or tear or following my blog.    We'll get there together.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow

Don't stop thinking about tomorrow
Don't stop, it'll soon be here.
It'll be, better than before.
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow - Fleetwood Mac


With each chemo treatment, I expect that I will become more and more tired.     Knowing what to expect is easier than not but still doesn't make impending lack of energy more palatable.

With treatment #1, I had 2 days when I had very low energy and motivation to do much more than 'couch-it'.    From there, each day I was able to go for longer more challenging walks and accomplish more on the task list.     So including the treatment day, there were 3 days when I was what I refer to as 'out'.

For treatment #2, there were 3-4 days when I was not up for a walk more than a few blocks.   For treatment #3, it was only at day 5 when I felt like I could keep moving for the full day and focus on task.     So that leaves me with 2 weeks and 2 days until my next treatment.      The number of 'free' energy days is dwindling with each chemical zap.

For me, it helps to focus on the next day knowing that I will have more energy than the prior helps to get me through each week; knowing it will be better.  Yesterday's gone.    Taking care of myself on the 'off' days enables me to build the strength on the good days and remain strong for the upcoming treatment.   Keeping my body strong, will allow me to be to recover from the months of treatment and medical care.

I'm keeping my sights on the day when all the stages of treatment are over.    Good things to come; leaving all the bad stuff behind me.

You Can Leave Your Hat On

You Can Leave Your Hat On - Joe Cocker

For the next 6 months or so, a new staple to my daily dress is a head covering to block out the cold and cold and avoid the uncomfortable stares from those I meet.  I am without my usual mop of red hair.  I know red is a stretch when it probably looks brown with grey but in my mind, it's still the red of my 12 year old youth.   So, to cover up my bumpy scalp and to more practically to keep my head warm, I wear a hat, scarf, turban toque at all times.   I even have a neat little cap that I wear to bed to block the chilly breeze that travels at night through my drafty, old house.

In the few short weeks since my hair and I parted ways...no pun intended...I"ve gathered a considerable collection.

when I want to impress - beautiful scarves from my sister in Spain - makes me feel pretty and almost like I have a bit of style

A bit of style - hand felted hat from millinery on Granville Island

quick default  - my Craft cotton running toque - very much in style with the young crowd and now coveted by my daughter

cold day wear - colourful knitted caps from my friend Vickie

indoor sloppy - convertible turban-type finds from Winners - they have EVERYTHING!!!

Adding to my collection next week - a mop of my 12 year old hair.   No, I didn't save it.  I've got a wig on order.    Funny, I wouldn't colour my hair but now I'm buying a whole head of colour.    Always the bargain hunter, there's no need to touch up roots or re-die.   Why didn't I think of this sooner?

How does it feel?

Like a Rolling Stone - Bob Dylan

One of the most common questions I get these days is "How does the treatment leave me feeling". I'll attempt to describe it.   First off, it feels different for everyone so this is my experience only.   As my treatment is every three weeks, here's how the cycle seems to flow.

Week one begins with the chemotherapy treatment.  The treatment itself is given by IV.   The hardest part is trying to find a 'good vein'.   I'm not adverse to needles so I find this kind of interesting.   Just the prick of the needle and then it's sitting around waiting while the chemo drugs run into your veins.     It's a lot of time sitting, reading, chatting with the person in the chair beside you or visitor who has joined you for the day.  My treatment involves two medications, one that is administered by IV push, which means it's two large syringes of medication that the nurse injects slowly through the iv over a 20 minute time frame.   That medication could burn or irritate the veins so there's a slight bit of tension while you wait to sense any burning or pain.  Fortunately this hasn't happened for me.  The other drug takes an hour.    As I change medications along my treatment plan, the treatment will take up to 6 hours for the IV's.

The days following it is like an ongoing flu that doesn't get worse but then again you never quite get over it before the next treatment comes along.   Always just on the edge of nausea, feeling best lying down, short energy bursts, diminished interest in food, constant runny nose and stuffiness.  Horizontal rules this week.   Sweats at night and interrupted sleeps.    My brain is on overload so I have vividly real, bizarre dreams.   I recall imagined conversations during the day.   My kids are now used to me questioning them about whether a conversation occurred.

Week two the energy starts to return as does the appetite.  Brain is out of shock and back to 'normal' which means that my only excuse now is age.   A half day of activity such as walking, housework, e-mails can be managed if balanced with a few hours on the couch resting.  A little reminder that, yes, you are currently receiving medical treatment.  Still the flu-like feeling or harsh allergies with head stuffiness, runny nose, coughing and dry mouth.   The ability to multitask no longer exists so it's all one task, one thought at at time.

No hair on my head, provides a constant cooling factor.   Having no hair on my face save a few eyebrows feels great!!!   Baby's butt smooth skin all over.  Getting a bit more personal, no armpit hair is something that should be bestowed upon us all.  I'm sure it served some purpose in human evolution but what purpose does it hold now?

By the end of the week I get a few mouth or throat sores, like cankers.   These are from the chemo drugs.   I have been prescribed a mouthwash to gargle and swallow to manage these so that I don't get infection.  They are mild for me and build for a few days and then resolve themselves.

Week three more energy and less need to balance with downtime.  It's the week to try to feel the most back to normal just before the treatment starts.  It's a bit of a tease because it's like getting over the flu but you know that you're just going to be hit with it again in a few days.   So you feel somewhat good but yet always in anticipation of what is to come.

I meet with my oncologist at the end of week three to check my blood work and review the side effects to get the 'all clear' to proceed with the next treatment.  That's the time as well to review the list of questions that I've generated over the prior three weeks.  She is used to me arriving with my binder of notes and reports and list of questions.

My oncologist has assured me that the side effects will increase in intensity with each treatment, other than the nausea.  So by the end of week three I consider that I'm at my highest energy level that I will be at until treatment is over.   A diminishing scale of energy level.

So I guess you could describe ongoing treatments sort of like a roller coaster ride with the swings and cycles and ups and downs.  Dang it - I could have used that as my title on this one - 'roller coaster'!!!    See, there's a song in everything.      Roller Coaster of Love - Ohio Players

Treatment # 2 - (she) leaves me in a cool, cool sweat

Crazy Little Thing Called Love - Queen

Treatment two is complete which means I can start to get a sense of how things should flow going forward.   Work overlap - still trying to look for trend lines.

You are encouraged to drink lots of water after treatment to help flush the drugs through your system.   Drinking lots of water means lots of running to the bathroom.    Lots of running to the bathroom means interrupted sleep at night which adds to being tired from the drugs themselves.   It's hard to find the balance.   I find myself waking up repeatedly in the night in a cold, cold sweat.  Go to the bathroom; back to bed; then feel hot and sweaty; drink more water and that resolves; back to sleep; repeat.    Typically 5-6 times a night.   Yes, it could be age but seems to be linked to treatment and eases off over the weeks following.

Food aversions.   If I listen carefully, my mind and body tells me immediately what is an ok thing to eat or not.   Hours before treatment I could have easily stuffed my face with Cadbury Mini-Eggs (horribly bad for you chocolate eggs covered in coloured, candied coating),   Once the drugs hit my system - no interest in them at all.   Same with last treatment - chocolate or sweats are out.   (Happily I got a bit of a reprieve a couple weeks later).    But it is pretty limited which means I haven't had to adjust my eating patterns too much.  

Next are the weird, no - bizarre dreams and thought patterns.   For example, I've been in a high school musical where Morgan Freeman died on stage (let's pray that neither of those ever happen); had numerous conversations with my kids that they swear never occurred; attended a hill-billy family reunion of sorts where I was adopted by the family and asked to organize a parade.   That was last night....can hardly wait for what`s on the billboard tonight.

I'm told tiredness will build with each treatment and I do notice less energy already with this one.   That can be managed with balancing activities with energy levels as the energy slowly returns over the following weeks leading up to the next treatment.   It's frustrating.   The night before treatment I acknowledged that I was probably at the highest energy level that I would find myself over the next 5-6 months.   It`s kind of weird thinking of it that way when you are used to thinking the opposite and trying to plan a regime to improve energy or fitness level over a similar period.   I noticeably feel the `it`s time to crash` throughout the day.  Just following the signs.

Good news is that the dreaded nausea is still under control and managed by the medication they recommend in the first three days.  After that Tums, Tums, Tums, Tums (think of the commercial) works well to get me through.

I`m feeling pretty good and very fortunate that so far things have been manageable.  Still only the start.  I`m not ignoring the fact that new things will come up along the way with the next treatments and change in medications with the second 4 rounds.

Breathe, Just Breathe

Breathe - Faith Hill

That's my daily mantra when I don't have the energy I would like to head out for a run, am bored with staying at home and being out of my regular routine, the printer doesn't work, I feel overwhelmed suddenly by the diagnosis and treatment plan I've been handed.    Just a couple of big long breaths get me through those moments.

It helps get me to sleep at night or back to sleep when I wake up in the early morning hours.    It helps me to sit through the long waits in the waiting room at the chemo clinic or yet another doctor's office.     It keeps me balanced.

It's much like Dory's 'Just keep swimming, just keep swimming' (Finding Nemo)- just push through and don't focus on the shit right in front of you.   Move beyond it and focused on the destination.

Tomorrow is treatment number 2 of 8.   Going in strong and healthy with my mantra to get me through the rough spots.

Hold your Head Up High

Hold Your Head Up - Steppenwolf

It has only been a week, but I'm really liking the absence of hair on my scalp.   I wouldn't call it 'being bald' only because there's still a bit of fuzz and also because it's temporary.  Well, at least I am told that it is.

It's another adventure/experience in this journey and in some ways a fun one.   I can now say that I know what it feels like to be be bald - at least for a short period.   Only a chosen few can put that on their resume!

The benefits:  I don't wake up and wonder how my hair will look today, whether it needs a good cut.   Speaking of cuts, yes, I'll save on hair cuts for this year.   I don't have to worry about hat head or bed head.    A ride in a convertible - if i had one - won't mess my hair.  Those of you with convertibles, feel free to invite me for a ride!

Another new adventure is hats.   I hate hats - ok, change that - I once hated hats but now they are another discovery.    I need them now - not just to mask no hair but also to keep my head warm.   It's amazing how much heat is lost to having no hair.   I've started a bit of a collection to suit my needs and feeling for the day.  I've never noticed how many people where hats - well, toques.  It really is a Canadian thing.   All ages sporting them right now - so if it was a concern of mine - I'm very much in fashion.

Next on to scarves which serve double duty as both neck and head covering.  I'm relearning knot tying and braiding in the process.  

And months from now, when treatment is over it will be like opening a new present to find out whether my hair comes back the same as before, new colour or texture.

All of this just points of interest along the journey.

This is the day your life will surely change.

This is the Day - The The

Tomorrow I will wake up a cancer patient.   Yes, I have been a cancer patient for the past few months but tomorrow it will hit will really hit home for me.   Tomorrow I will start to look more like a cancer patient.    Others may start to identify me as one.

My hair is starting to fall out - in handfuls.   Just as they predicted.  Two weeks following my first treatment.    If I wanted to help things along I could likely comb all my hair out.   A big part of me wants to do just that.  It was like a flick of a switch today and all the hair roots let go.   I hate that for a number of reasons:

1. They predicted it and it's happening right on schedule.   I liked to think I was different and that my body would have been able to delay this side effect or perhaps prove them wrong.    Damn them for getting it right. 
2. I love my hair.  I don't have the long willowy locks, but I treat it well; no chemicals; and love the colour and healthy texture of it.  My hair deserves better.
3. The cancer diagnosis is now much more of a reality.    It's there every time I look in the mirror, see my reflection in a window.   It's there when my kids see me and bring their friends over. 

Until now, I blended in.   I didn't look much different than before.  Still out walking - although less than before, still in doing a bit of grocery shopping; dressed each day,  popping in and out of the hospital, I might be taken as a visitor, not a patient.

I'm not feeling depressed or sad about this - just recognizing that I'm entering a new stage, a new reality.  My life as I see it will change.  As others see me will change.   Like putting on a new skin.  Same me - just a different version.  One day older, one day more experienced, one day changed.  

I feel pretty, oh so pretty....

I Feel Pretty - Bernstein and Sondheim

This evening I attended the Look Good, Feel Better Program provided through the Canadian Cosmetic, Toiletry and Fragrance Association (CCTFA).   The program is provided to help women who are faced faced with cancer to manage the effects that treatment can have on their appearance and self esteem.  

Anyone who knows me, knows that I don't wear makeup regularly.  Actually, it would be more accurate to say that I rarely wear makeup.   So this was something not in my league.

It was a small class of women with three very supportive and helpful volunteers from CCTFA.   We were first presented with a large box filled with cosmetics, creams, cleansers, etc. donated by the sponsor companies.   Then they walked us through, step by step how to apply make up - the right way.   Yes, you can teach an old 'dog' new tricks.   I had to wait a few too many decades but I finally went to a class to learn how to apply make up properly.  And, it was fun.  A bit intimidating but it was clear that everyone was testing out something new.    It was also a reminder that we should take the time to be nice to ourselves and our bodies.   Even more so when we are going through stressful situations.

There was also a woman demonstrating wigs and head covers.     Now, out of the 5 in the class, I was one of two of us with our hair still in tact.    The woman beside me was 1 treatment ahead of me and had pretty much lost all her locks.    So, it's coming soon for me.   Typically any hair thinning or loss starts 2-3 weeks following your first treatment.   No signs of it yet with me but I'm just under 2 weeks.

I was asked to model....I sensed she thought that my bad hair day needed some cover.   Well, who'd have thought that I could carry off a blonde wig but it seemed to work.   Not that I think I'll go that route but, hey, nice to have options.   Having the make up on and then the wigs really provided a boost.   The consensus with the class was that I can't pull off a black wig.   Or rather if I put one on, I should immediately pull off the black wig.

So, guess I may be out wig shopping soon.    Rediscover my red or go blonde?   Long, or stick to the short style?   Or will it just be natural scalp with head cover?    I hope I'm ready for this.

I'm Back.....

I'm Back in the Saddle Again   You choose - Aerosmith or Gene Autry - personally, I'm hearing Aerosmith.

Whew!   A week over.  The first week post treatment.    It was a week that could have gone in any direction with potential for extreme side effects.  Happily I managed to make it through with milder ill effects and also better awareness of my own body and it's ability to adjust and give me clear warning signals.  I feel like I'm back in the saddle, sitting tall and back to myself again.   I have my brain back and more importantly, I know that my brain and my energy will come back following each treatment.  Maybe not to the same extent each time but my fear of living in a world of 50% energy, 66% brain power for months on end is likely not a reality.

I shared a beautiful walk today with my friend through the rainforest at the Capilano Salmon Hatchery.   We were showered in the spray off the damn.  Saw an amazing double rainbow created by the spray and sunshine.  A beautiful day and a great way to celebrate this week.

What I learned last week:

• Naps are good; naps are great; naps heal.
• Chocolate is not always the best solution and it's ok not to want chocolate sometimes.  Even when you are standing in a chocolate shop.
• Too much couch is bad.   Gotta change it up now and again.
• While I always thought I had good balance in life, like anything else it is important to keep seeking to improve or refresh that balance.  We need to keep adjusting the scales.
• Listen more.   Even closer to your body, your family, your friends.
• If you've done your job well, it is easier to step back and let others take the lead when you are unable.   It is your reward for the work you've done.
• Build community around you through support of others who in turn are there to support you.
• When you slow things down, you see more and can listen better.   

Not bad for one week.   I might just come out of the journey a bit wiser!!  

Sledgehammer

Sledgehammer - Peter Gabriel

This morning it felt exactly like a sledgehammer had hit me.    Complete exhaustion.   Like a very harsh flu but without the nausea and vomiting.       Yes, chemo induced but I hate to say a lot of it was also self induced.

Admittedly, against my better judgement - I pushed it too far.  I felt good yesterday in the morning and headed out for a walk - not my usual walk - I toned it down.  With my sister and a friend I took the seabus and walked a short few blocks to a chocolate-coffee shop - East Van Roasters*** see information below.   I even took the bus up the hill rather than walk.   Sounds pretty tame eh?   Well -  I should have stopped there.

Instead of a nice quiet afternoon nap and mellow evening, I jumped into helping my son complete his year end project.   Not that it was tons of work but I couldn't effectively provide consult from a prone position - which is how I should have been.    Add in - daughter's play costume completion.   Once I got into my old habits of just keep pushing through I couldn't stop.   When we won't do it ourselves eventually our body kicks in to give us the message.    That's when the sledgehammer came it.   Whomp!!    I'm learning but sometimes you have to whack me in the head to get the message across.

Today, I didn't leave the house and basically couch surfed.   Feeling much better now - one more day of couching and I'll be back on track.   Phew!    Ducked a bullet there.


***East Van Roasters (eastvanroasters.com) is an artisan chocolate and coffee bar on Carrall Street just off Gastown in Vancouver.   It is a non-profit designed to provide training and employment to women residents of the Rainer Hotel.  Women trying to get back into workplace.   It is more than that though.  A wonderful experience, with great taste and quality.    Both coffee and chocolate are created right from the bean.      Definitely something both to check out and a great organization to support.

Drugs in my pocket and I don't know what to do with them

Drugs in my Pocket - The Monks

I finished chemo treatment number one without incident.  7 to go (3 of this set of cycles).   I was in the clinic at 9 for quick check in with my oncologist, then the IV's - saline, drug one (deep red) for 20 minutes, drug two for 1 hour.    My sister and middle daughter joined me and we got into a good game of cards and lots of chatter.   The time went by quickly.  Great to have company on my first round.   Most of the patients there coming in an out are on their own - pros it seems.  It's a pleasant space with lots of natural light, friendly nurses, a kitchen, books, DVD players and chatter among the patients.

We walked to and from the clinic, picking up yet more drugs on the way home and doing some banking.   Then off  for a short drive and walk and home.    So feeling pretty good right after but by the end of the evening I was bagged with a mild headache.  Side effects of the stress leading up to the day and the shock to my body.

To manage the potential and likely side effects of the treatment you are prescribed with a list of medications to take just prior and the days immediately following.     I'm sure I'd feel worse without these additional drugs but it is someone of shock to be taking so many pills on a daily basis.   I have to remember that along with the chemo they are given to me to keep me strong and allow me to continue treatment.   Only three days of the add on drugs - 9 a day.   My sister has a schedule mapped out for me and gives me prompts now and again.  By Monday I'll be on my own - drugless - to have my body alone tell me how it's reacting to the chemo.   Keeping my fingers crossed that I will gain the energy zapped by the meds and won't be tied to bathrooms.   Wish me luck!   I'll steal a tiny bit of the chemo power and energy you have all sent me to apply to my digestive system.