I woke up in a funk about 4:15 a.m., and it seems there’s no going back to bed for me this morning. I’m wide awake and full of negative feelings. I guess this is the other shoe falling in my treatment cycle. I have been blessed with largely avoiding the physical side effects of chemotherapy, but I think the emotional ones have caught up with me. It’s not an unusual thing to happen during treatment, but it has caught me off guard. At the moment, all my positive mojo fails me, and the worries have settled in for a bit.
I think the relief that my first treatment was relatively easy on me gave me a real boost. Yeah, my body is behaving like it should again! But, I think that’s why this slump feels so profound. The enormity of what I’m undertaking is hitting home. Having cancer feels like betrayal. Where did it come from in the first place, and why is it back now? Why do I have to fight the good fight...again?
This slump won’t last. At least I have the experience and perspective to know what I’m going through right now is natural. Anger. Frustration. Sadness. Perfectly normal reactions to an untenable situation. I know I have to acknowledge my feelings in order to work through them.
I could have kept this post to myself. I could have resolved to make my way through today by just grinning and bearing it and hoping for better tomorrow...but, it didn’t feel honest. If part of the reason I write this blog is to share the experience of cancer, then I need to share the not-so-great stuff too.
The raw fact of the matter is that I’m down, and I have the right to feel whatever I’m feeling. I don’t deserve cancer, but I do deserve to the right to be wherever I am, working through whatever I’m working through and feeling no need to apologize for it.
I’m off to find a blanket to wallow under.
Saturday, May 11, 2019
Friday, May 10, 2019
I could open a hat shop
A few days ago, the most mysterious box arrived at my house. I nice-sized box that portended of delightful contents. Upon opening it, I was not disappointed. Out sprung the hugest collection of hats I’ve ever seen outside the accessories section of a fine department store in London.
My silly, indulgent, whimsical friend Morgen put together all this headwear for me. She must have hit up every vintage hat store in the Four Corners area of Colorado, where she lives. I squealed with joy. Sun hats, fancy wide-brimmed hats, engineer caps, scarves to accessorize. Here’s a look, as best I could capture it:
My dearest Morgen, thank you. Your thoughtfulness overcomes me. I almost can’t wait to lose my hair!
I’m very foggy-headed today from the chemo, so I’m not good for much of anything. A little hat therapy will do me good.
Well done, my dear friend.
My silly, indulgent, whimsical friend Morgen put together all this headwear for me. She must have hit up every vintage hat store in the Four Corners area of Colorado, where she lives. I squealed with joy. Sun hats, fancy wide-brimmed hats, engineer caps, scarves to accessorize. Here’s a look, as best I could capture it:
My dearest Morgen, thank you. Your thoughtfulness overcomes me. I almost can’t wait to lose my hair!
I’m very foggy-headed today from the chemo, so I’m not good for much of anything. A little hat therapy will do me good.
Well done, my dear friend.
Thursday, May 9, 2019
I feel fine
Well, it’s the third day of my cycle, the day that all the feel-good meds they gave me with chemo wear off and the potential for side effects like nausea and severe fatigue can set in for a few days. It’s early in the day yet, but I feel fine.
Yesterday was a great day! I felt energetic (likely brought on by the steroids they gave me during treatment) and got a myriad of things accomplished, including driving myself to a doctor’s appointment. Some of you may not know, I have type II diabetes — likely brought on six years ago from the chemo drugs I had — and steroid use can significantly raise my blood glucose levels. During this cycle, they did, but they’ve already resolved and my levels have normalized. My appointment yesterday was to get bloodwork done to check on my diabetes. Just another factor to keep an eye on.
I might have overdone it a bit yesterday, but I wanted to get things done while I felt like doing so. It’s a busy time of year with one boy having his Eagle Scout Court of Honor on the 18th and the festivities of graduation just a few days after for both boys. I’m so grateful that I felt good yesterday and could accomplish so much.
I’m taking care of myself, though, so don’t worry. I took a long nap in the afternoon yesterday, and I don’t have any errands to run today, so I can spend the day in my pajamas if I feel like it. And, I’ve got some anti-nausea medication at my side in case I feel the need to take it.
My next step in the cycle is to have my white blood cell levels checked at the nadir of the cycle, the known low time for WBC levels. I’ll have that blood draw done on May 16th. If my levels are too low, I’ll likely have to take some medication to stimulate replenishment. I’ll cross that bridge if I get there. With each treatment cycle, the chance of this happening increases. Last time I had chemo, my levels never got so low that I needed any of this support, but I do know the more chemo you have in your life, the more likely you’ll need bone marrow support to get those white blood cells firing again. Hope for me that my bone marrow rises to the occasion on its own. Side effects from the medications to stimulate WBC projection can be rather unpleasant.
So, perhaps I’m being a bit of a Pollyanna, but right now, I’m feeling great and very positive. Thank you, again, for all the positive energy you’ve all been sending my way. I feel it and it helps more than you’ll ever know.
Yesterday was a great day! I felt energetic (likely brought on by the steroids they gave me during treatment) and got a myriad of things accomplished, including driving myself to a doctor’s appointment. Some of you may not know, I have type II diabetes — likely brought on six years ago from the chemo drugs I had — and steroid use can significantly raise my blood glucose levels. During this cycle, they did, but they’ve already resolved and my levels have normalized. My appointment yesterday was to get bloodwork done to check on my diabetes. Just another factor to keep an eye on.
I might have overdone it a bit yesterday, but I wanted to get things done while I felt like doing so. It’s a busy time of year with one boy having his Eagle Scout Court of Honor on the 18th and the festivities of graduation just a few days after for both boys. I’m so grateful that I felt good yesterday and could accomplish so much.
I’m taking care of myself, though, so don’t worry. I took a long nap in the afternoon yesterday, and I don’t have any errands to run today, so I can spend the day in my pajamas if I feel like it. And, I’ve got some anti-nausea medication at my side in case I feel the need to take it.
My next step in the cycle is to have my white blood cell levels checked at the nadir of the cycle, the known low time for WBC levels. I’ll have that blood draw done on May 16th. If my levels are too low, I’ll likely have to take some medication to stimulate replenishment. I’ll cross that bridge if I get there. With each treatment cycle, the chance of this happening increases. Last time I had chemo, my levels never got so low that I needed any of this support, but I do know the more chemo you have in your life, the more likely you’ll need bone marrow support to get those white blood cells firing again. Hope for me that my bone marrow rises to the occasion on its own. Side effects from the medications to stimulate WBC projection can be rather unpleasant.
So, perhaps I’m being a bit of a Pollyanna, but right now, I’m feeling great and very positive. Thank you, again, for all the positive energy you’ve all been sending my way. I feel it and it helps more than you’ll ever know.
Tuesday, May 7, 2019
Even under the best of circumstances, chemo sucks
Just a quick note to let everyone know my chemo went well today. I napped through a lot of it, and most importantly, I had no allergic reactions to the carbo or taxol...just like the first time. I was exhausted in the most profound way by the time I got home and had no choice but to take a nap. However, now the steroids have kicked in, and I’ll probably be awake to the wee hours.
I’m rather foggy-headed, so I’m having trouble coming up with anything especially meaningful to say, except that I’m very sad I had to miss my boys’ last high school band concert tonight. Even under the best of circumstances, chemo sucks.
I’m rather foggy-headed, so I’m having trouble coming up with anything especially meaningful to say, except that I’m very sad I had to miss my boys’ last high school band concert tonight. Even under the best of circumstances, chemo sucks.
Sunday, May 5, 2019
And, we’re off...
...on Tuesday, any way. I’m insurance-approved, blood level checked, and scheduled to begin my first chemotherapy treatment on May 7th! I’m anxious to get underway. However, I won’t be able to go to the Atlanta location of Northside Hospital because their infusion facility is completely booked for the 7th. If I did my first treatment there, I’d have to wait until the 14th. This would have been a disaster for my energy levels recovering in time for several very special events in mid and late May, so my chemo nurse coordinator worked a little magic and got me in at their Forsyth County location. It’s a bit further of a drive — not by much...those of you familiar with the north end perimeter in Atlanta at rush hour know what I mean — but I have to be there at 8:00 a.m. It will be an early morning in the Moore household on Tuesday, though luckily, my future treatments will be scheduled back at the Atlanta facility. In the grand scheme of things, this is a MINOR inconvenience.
So many thoughts running through my head. Will I tolerate chemo as well as I did almost seven years ago? Will the chemo be as effective? Will I feel well enough to fully participate in all the May festivities and summer preparations to get my two boys to college? Will my diabetes behave with the bolus of steroids that comes with every treatment? (Steroids have been known to jack up blood glucose levels.) Will I be able to enjoy what may be our last family vacation together before my boys — my young men — have their own summer agendas?
So many questions whose answers will only come with time. And patience. And a little faith.
So many thoughts running through my head. Will I tolerate chemo as well as I did almost seven years ago? Will the chemo be as effective? Will I feel well enough to fully participate in all the May festivities and summer preparations to get my two boys to college? Will my diabetes behave with the bolus of steroids that comes with every treatment? (Steroids have been known to jack up blood glucose levels.) Will I be able to enjoy what may be our last family vacation together before my boys — my young men — have their own summer agendas?
So many questions whose answers will only come with time. And patience. And a little faith.
With love and patience nothing is impossible.
— Daisaku Ikeda
Monday, April 29, 2019
A plan
Paul and I went to see the gynecological oncologist this morning, the doctor that will oversee my chemotherapy. A few things have to fall in place, not the least of which is a strong starting white blood cell count, but I am tentatively scheduled to have my first treatment next Tuesday, May 7th. It will take the better part of the working day.
Also, I haven’t used my port (the semi-permanent sub-dermal access point for the chemo drugs) since I finished chemo the first time, so it may need to be replaced. We’re going to wait to the first treatment to find out if it’s still unclogged and usable. If not, I’ll have my first treatment through IV and work out the port issues before the second treatment.
I will, at least, start with the same drugs and protocol as six years ago: a drug combo abbreviated carbo/taxol, administered once every three weeks for six treatments. It worked well for me last time, and I tolerated it well. There’s no reason not to think it won’t do the same this time.
However, my doctor did warn me that sometimes in subsequent chemo treatments, bone marrow support becomes necessary, and if my white blood cell count drops too low, I’ll have to take something like Neupogen or Neulasta to stimulate my bone marrow to make white blood cells. I understand these drugs can cause excess fatigue and perhaps bone pain, but I’ll just cross that bridge if I come to it.
I’m feeling very positive about this plan. Yes, I’d rather be doing any number of other things for 18 weeks of my life, but there are certainly worse issues to face.
I’ll post more as the immediate decisions are made about the beginning treatment...but right now, I need to go buy some hats.
Also, I haven’t used my port (the semi-permanent sub-dermal access point for the chemo drugs) since I finished chemo the first time, so it may need to be replaced. We’re going to wait to the first treatment to find out if it’s still unclogged and usable. If not, I’ll have my first treatment through IV and work out the port issues before the second treatment.
I will, at least, start with the same drugs and protocol as six years ago: a drug combo abbreviated carbo/taxol, administered once every three weeks for six treatments. It worked well for me last time, and I tolerated it well. There’s no reason not to think it won’t do the same this time.
However, my doctor did warn me that sometimes in subsequent chemo treatments, bone marrow support becomes necessary, and if my white blood cell count drops too low, I’ll have to take something like Neupogen or Neulasta to stimulate my bone marrow to make white blood cells. I understand these drugs can cause excess fatigue and perhaps bone pain, but I’ll just cross that bridge if I come to it.
I’m feeling very positive about this plan. Yes, I’d rather be doing any number of other things for 18 weeks of my life, but there are certainly worse issues to face.
I’ll post more as the immediate decisions are made about the beginning treatment...but right now, I need to go buy some hats.
Saturday, April 27, 2019
A little retail therapy
Waiting is the worst.
I’m sure any of you who have faced the diagnosis and treatment of a disease know what I’m talking about. Monday morning, when I have my oncology consultation will not come soon enough to get my chemotherapy plan made. I’m ready. Bring it on.
It’s so hard not to wish the hours away. But, I as I learned the last time I went through this, each hour is precious. So, I’m trying to live in the moment as much as I can.
There’s lots to do in the next month, aside from my illness. One of my sons will have his Eagle Scout Court of Honor. To celebrate this highest of Boy Scout achievements, there are invitations to design and mail. A program and reception to plan. A slide show to put together. Food, drink, decorations, paper plates...the list goes on. Luckily, there are three other boys celebrating with my son and three wonderful moms to share in the planning and execution. My posse.
Then there’s a graduation dinner, graduation itself, a graduation party. All events I’m grateful that demand my attention. My boys only graduate from high school once, and I want their experience to be one they carry with them the rest of their lives...or at least until college starts in August.
In the background of all this planning and preparation, though, is the wonder of how I’ll be feeling while I go to these events. And, maybe it is trivial in the grand scheme of things, but I wonder if I’ll still have hair and if I have the proper hats for my clothing ensembles. Luckily, I love hats (and conversely hate wigs), and I still have the hats from my last round of chemotherapy. So, even though I’ve been a little preoccupied with my hair — or potential lack there of — I’ve distracted myself with a little retail therapy. I have found the *perfect* hat to go with my graduation outfit. I might just order it if I haven’t lost my hair. To be totally frivolous, I’ll share a link to it. Very chic, don’t you think?
So, even though cancer is looming over my head (no pun intended), life does go on. Perfect hat or not, I’m ready for this battle, and I can’t begin to tell you how uplifting it is to know that I’ve got an army of family and friends ready to back me up. Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers and encouragement and wishes of good outcomes.
Hair or hat, I’m prepared for the fight that awaits me.
I’m sure any of you who have faced the diagnosis and treatment of a disease know what I’m talking about. Monday morning, when I have my oncology consultation will not come soon enough to get my chemotherapy plan made. I’m ready. Bring it on.
It’s so hard not to wish the hours away. But, I as I learned the last time I went through this, each hour is precious. So, I’m trying to live in the moment as much as I can.
There’s lots to do in the next month, aside from my illness. One of my sons will have his Eagle Scout Court of Honor. To celebrate this highest of Boy Scout achievements, there are invitations to design and mail. A program and reception to plan. A slide show to put together. Food, drink, decorations, paper plates...the list goes on. Luckily, there are three other boys celebrating with my son and three wonderful moms to share in the planning and execution. My posse.
Then there’s a graduation dinner, graduation itself, a graduation party. All events I’m grateful that demand my attention. My boys only graduate from high school once, and I want their experience to be one they carry with them the rest of their lives...or at least until college starts in August.
In the background of all this planning and preparation, though, is the wonder of how I’ll be feeling while I go to these events. And, maybe it is trivial in the grand scheme of things, but I wonder if I’ll still have hair and if I have the proper hats for my clothing ensembles. Luckily, I love hats (and conversely hate wigs), and I still have the hats from my last round of chemotherapy. So, even though I’ve been a little preoccupied with my hair — or potential lack there of — I’ve distracted myself with a little retail therapy. I have found the *perfect* hat to go with my graduation outfit. I might just order it if I haven’t lost my hair. To be totally frivolous, I’ll share a link to it. Very chic, don’t you think?
So, even though cancer is looming over my head (no pun intended), life does go on. Perfect hat or not, I’m ready for this battle, and I can’t begin to tell you how uplifting it is to know that I’ve got an army of family and friends ready to back me up. Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers and encouragement and wishes of good outcomes.
Hair or hat, I’m prepared for the fight that awaits me.
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