Happy New Year!

There are two ways of spreading light — to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.

— Edith Wharton 

New Years Greetings to All!

I rang in the new year by going to sleep about 10:30 on New Year’s Eve.  Just didn’t have it in me to stay up for the festivities.  That’s okay.  I’m glad the new year has arrived, so far with good news.  I had my check up with my oncologist on Friday, and my physical exam was good.  I’m scheduled for my next PET/CT scan in late March, with a follow up appointment with my oncologist two weeks afterward.

Though perhaps the best news is I’ve begun volunteering with a local food pantry, two days a week, for a four-hour shift each day.  I’ve been set to the task of answering the incoming phone calls for the organization, which is much more than it sounds like it might be.  I’m the front line of contact with people who are in dire straits.  They’ve probably been considering making their phone call for days, desperate in some area of their lives and needing help.  I’m there to listen to them, offer them some comfort, and hopefully find a way to help them out.

The organization does much more than just feed the stomach.  They have utilities and prescription medication assistance, as well as a job board, homework help, and various activities for their clients through out the year.  My first volunteer job was taking pictures of the clients with Santa at the pantry’s annual Christmas party.  I went to Walmart to find the most ridiculously decorated sweater I could find, wore my knee-length Santa hat, and dusted off my old Canon SLR camera for some good shots.  The kids had crafts projects to do, cookies and milk, and each received a stocking with small toys and other treats.  It was a wonderful evening.

I go in today for the tougher work, answering those phones.  I’m still on a learning curve.  I want to connect up potential clients with the correct services we offer, but I also want to be a resource of other services in the community that we don’t offer...like help with rent or house payments or clothing sources.  I’ve spent hours on the Internet educating myself about similar organizations in the community that offer compatible services.  I want every caller who makes that difficult phone call to hang up with some sort of resources, some sort of hope.

The magical thing about volunteering with this organization is the energy I receive back from my work.  Four hours is a long shift for me, but every time I leave with a sense of purpose and gratitude for what I have and what I have to give.  This is probably the best cure for my moodiness and fatigue I get from the post-chemo drug I’m taking, Arimidex.  I feel very fortunate.

So, my new year begins on a very positive note.  I wish the same for all of you dear readers.

That dreaded little pill

I saw my oncologist last week, and she prescribed an oral chemotherapy drug for me to attempt to keep my cancer at bay.  It’s an aromatase inhibitor called Arimidex.  It’s side effects are like going through menopause again:  hot flashes, moodiness, insomnia...plus the additional possibility of joint and bone pain.  Not looking forward to this, but it is what it is.

I paused this morning before I swallowed my first dose and said to that dreaded little pill, “I hate you.”  I just had to get that out of my system.  I don’t really hate it.  I do wish I didn’t have to take it, but I’m very appreciative of the potential effectiveness of it.  Aromatase inhibitors stop the production on any residual estrogen in my body, at this point likely stored in my fat cells.  See, even if you go through menopause, you still have estrogen stores in your body.  Since my cancer is estrogen-receptor positive, taking an aromatase inhibitor is the best defense I have against another recurrence.

I’ll have another follow up appointment in three months and another PET scan in six months.  In the meantime, I’m looking forward to life getting on to its new normal.  Already, the fatigue from the IV chemo is abating, and I’ve got some fuzz growing back on my head.

New fuzz on my head...and a hat imprint on my forehead.

Today, I’m going to the drug store to buy some B12 to help get over the fatigue and some Biotin to hopefully help with hair regrowth.

I’m still coming to terms with the loss of my mother.  We now are the owners of her car, a 2001 Buick LeSabre, definitely a “granny car,” and every time I pull in the driveway and see it there, I remember all her trips to our house to help with the boys when they were young.  We got it to have it available to Allen when he’s home.  He’s not particularly thrilled with the make and model, but to him, it’s a free car, at the ready for his use.

I’m also investigating ways to get out in the community in some form of service.  I’ll keep you all posted as developments occur.

Filling in some blanks

I realized I haven’t really explained what radiation treatment is like, so I’ll spend a little time writing about that.  There are different kinds of radiation treatment.  What I’m doing right now is called external beam radiation.  While I lie still on the treatment table, with the mattress form holding me in place, a machine rotates around me several times, delivering the radiation to the mapped location of my tumor.  I feel absolutely nothing from the radiation beams.  It takes about seven minutes, less time than it takes for me to change into my gown and get positioned on the treatment table.  At this point, the most difficult thing about these treatments is driving from the suburbs into the city and home again.

There can be skin irritation at the site of treatment, and my radiation oncologist told me this is likely the only side effect I’ll feel.  Some people have fatigue from radiation, but mine is focused on a relatively small area, that I’m probably not going to feel much fatigue from the treatment.

What does fatigue me are the sleep problems I’ve developed.  Three o’clock am seems to be my witching hour.  I wake up, unable to go back to sleep, so I go downstairs and read a little or play a game or two on my computer.  Sometimes, I go back and read your comments to my blog entries, because they’re a source of comfort.  While my resolve remains strong, all the what-if’s seem to come to light at 3:00 am.

As I mentioned in the last entry, I’m going to be doing fifteen of these external beam radiation treatments instead of the originally planned ten, because once my radiation oncologist reviewed my old radiation treatment records, she determined that my current tumor is outside the treatment field from the previous radiation.  There are limits to how much radiation a person can have in their lifetime, and if I had had previous radiation to my current treatment area, I wouldn’t be able to have more than ten treatments.  So, being able to have fifteen treatments is a very good thing.

Another very good thing is that I am able to have the Syed procedure done.  I don’t have all the details on this yet, even after Googling everything I can find on the internet, but, basically, it is another kind of radiation delivery system, named after a Dr. Syed.  It requires that I be in the hospital for three days, over which time I’ll receive five treatments of high dose radiation delivered through needles directly to the tumor.  I have to be in the hospital for this, as the template and needles must be put into place while I’m under general anesthesia — and between treatments, I must lie flat on my back for three days (lifting my head no more than 20%, I’ve read) so that I don’t accidentally shift the needles from the treatment area.  I’m wondering if I’ll be able to use my iPad for blogging and general entertainment during this time.  I’d be lost without it.  I might have to set up a friends and family visitation schedule to keep me occupied.  ;-)  I’m tentatively scheduled to go in for this treatment October 22nd through 24th.

A not-so-good thing that I discovered after talking with my radiation oncologist on Thursday is that the tumor is bigger than originally thought.  Apparently, my gynecological oncologist took a biopsy from the tip of the iceberg.  Instead of being what we thought was a pea-sized tumor, it’s more the size of a prune.  It’s still localized and highly treatable.  I just can’t believe I didn’t realize it was there before the bleeding started.

That’s about all to report for now, except that my treatment time changed from 2:00 pm to 11:20 am, making for a much nicer commute into and out of the city.

Thanks again, for all the support.  It means the world to me.

Today, I’m just a person

Today, I’m just a person who took her son to get his braces off.

Today, I’m just a person who needed a car window fixed.

Today, I’m just a person who sought out a friend for a few quick laughs.

Today, I’m just a person who went shopping for a shirt for her son to wear in his senior pictures.

Today, I’m just a person who drove into the city, while listening to The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time.

Today, I’m just a person who had another round of about 10 minutes of external beam radiation.

Today, I’m just a person who found out I’ve been scheduled for 15 external beam radiation treatments instead of 10.  This is a good thing.  It means my body is strong enough to have the extra exposure.

Today, I’m just a person who will have the Syed radiation procedures October 22–24th.

Today, I’m just a person who’s too tired to explain the Syed radiation procedure right now.

Today, I’m just a person who enjoyed dinner tonight (and last night!) from good friends.

Today, I’m just a person who’s ready for bed a little early.

Today, I’m just a person.