The Plan

Monday was my first appointment with the radiation oncologist. It was pretty uneventful, just the usual new patient health history questionnaire where I got to answer awkward questions like, "Do you wear dentures?" Seriously?

After the weird, age inappropriate questions, the doctor came in and got down to business. If my PET scan comes back negative, meaning no cancer, I will undergo only 17 radiation treatments. If my PET scan comes back positive, I will have 22 radiation treatments. I will receive radiation five days a week and it will only be for a few minutes. Most of the time will actually be spent getting my body in the proper position for zapping.

I was curious why I would need to have radiation even if my PET scan came back negative. Why treat cancer that doesn't exist? According to my doctor, research shows that it is better long term if patients receive radiation even if the PET scan does not detect cancer. I took the doctor for his word, but Shane said he was surprised I didn't ask him to cite the research.

Side effects from radiation are cumulative, building up over time. Because the number of treatments is on the low end, the side effects will just be building up when I am finishing. The side effects of radiation are also site specific. With the cancer being in my neck/chest area, the most prominent effect I will notice is an inflammation of my esophagus. But hopefully I will only have to put up with a week or two of painful swallowing, just around the time of the most delicious food of the year, Thanksgiving. Even if it is too painful to eat turkey, I will enjoy some mashed potatoes and have much to be thankful for this year.

Milestones and Fiber Bombs

Thursday was my last chemo treatment! *happy dance happy dance happy dance* I celebrated and thanked the nurses with some delicious mini cupcakes and they were a huge hit!!

When I entered the chemo room for my blood draw, I noticed two new additions to the room that I wish they would have added a bit sooner than my last treatment. On the wall hung two, brand new, flat screens TVs. On my very first chemo treatment I asked one of the nurses why they didn't have any TVs for patients to watch. Her response seemed very logical - the doctors wanted to pay for an all RN and oncology certified nursing staff rather than TVs. But I guess after putting up with my childlike attention span for the past 16 weeks, they finally decided it was worth it to splurge on some entertainment devices.

After my blood draw, I met with my doctor and we discussed the next steps in the treatment plan. Sensing my anxiousness to get this whole thing over with, he moved the schedule up a week. I meet with my next doctor, the radiation oncologist, tomorrow morning and my PET/CT scan is now scheduled for October 6th. I am not quite sure what tomorrow's appointment will entail. More than likely I will meet the new doctor, talk about the next few appointments I need to have, and then be on my merry way.

This transition from chemo to radiation is a huge milestone. While I don't know exactly how I will respond/react to radiation, I am so thankful to be done with the icky chemo feeling. Thankfully, this last treatment has been one of the better ones as far as side effects are concerned. And they key to this good feeling is a lovely little concoction I am calling fiber bombs!! One of the worst things about chemo for me has been the extreme constipation, which leads to a terrible feeling of fullness and all around grossness. But I found this recipe for an "all natural laxative" in a book I got from the cancer center entitled Eating Well Through Cancer. Equal parts prune juice, oat bran, and apple sauce with a squirt of honey for flavor, this powerful mixture is working wonders.

Though I am still trying to grasp everything I am supposed to be learning through this battle called cancer, one of the things on my mind especially today is a sense of selflessness that I am still working on incorporating into my life. Cancer has made it easy to justify my self focus, but after some reflection today, I realize that I am still a part of a larger purpose and cancer does not excuse me from putting others before myself. I will start this new phase of treatment tomorrow with a renewed sense of love and awareness for those around me. Hold me to it. It's go time.

Cookies or Cupcakes?

Or neither? Thursday is my last treatment and some sort of celebration/thank you is in order. I just can't figure out what. Do I send the nurses a singing telegram? Do I go in with a choreographed dance and be the singing telegram? I don't want to disrupt other patients' treatment or offend them since they are all at different stages in their treatment plans. But a celebration is in order. A major stage of my treatment plan will be completed. And the nurses need to be thanked. For 16 weeks they took care of me and had the difficult task of not only putting up with my crazy but also making me sicker to make me better. How hard must it be to administer drugs day after day knowing how sucky they make people feel? But they do it. And they get to see happy stories, but they also have to keep working even after sad stories. These nurses have a hard job and I have appreciated the care they have given me beyond words.

That being said, my mind automatically jumped to something sweet when I thought about how to thank them. The Flying Cupcake is one of my favorite places to visit downtown so what better way to thank them than bring in some deliciousness. Then I paused. Remembered that I am a health fitness specialist. And thought that maybe sweets weren't such a good idea. Sure, I am celebrating/thanking them, but they get that quite often. There are usually goodies of some sort sitting out on the counter. So I thought a fruit bouquet might be a cute and healthy option. Then I saw the prices on those suckers and thought about how I could make one myself. Then I pictured myself with a sharp object trying to cut pretty shapes out of various fruits and decided against the whole fruit bouquet idea.

So now I am at a loss. And this is where you, my avid readers (if there are any of those out there), weigh in. Do I forego all health fitness specialist rules and bring cupcakes to overweight nurses? Or is there a healthier option that is just as thanking?

Boring is Good...

...I guess. But it doesn't make for a very funny blog.

Every two weeks, it is the same routine when I see the doctor. First the nurse gets my weight and I curse the steroids as I watch the numbers rise. Next Shane and I take bets on my blood pressure. I won this week - 109/58.

When the doctor comes in, he and Shane have a buddy-buddy chat about Dale Carnegie while I sit patiently (I have almost mastered this virtue by now) and wonder if my doctor remembers that I am the patient. Once he decides to get down to real business he always asks the same questions and I always give him the same answers.

- How is work? Fine.

- Any problems last treatment? You mean besides the fact that my kidneys are soon going to go on strike from all those drugs you pump into me?

- How is your appetite? Too big. Those steroids send me into a starved raged.

- How are your bowels? Fine

- Any tingling or numbness? You mean besides what I feel from boredom when you ask me the same questions every two weeks?

- Any swelling in your hands, feet, or ankles? Here, I simply hike up my pant legs and let him answer the questions himself.

- Then he feels my neck for lumps, listens to my heart and lungs, and declares, "You're boring. But boring is good in the medical world." And he always leaves me with these final instructions, "Well, Miss, just keep having fun."

Miss?! Are we in the south? Last I knew, I am from Iowa, you are from India, and we are both in Indiana.

But I take his instructions and head to the chemo room.

This round of treatment (the penultimate, might I remind you) the only thing noteworthy happened to Shane. I was enjoying a short snooze only to wake up to the sound of my doctor's hushed voice. "What level are you on?" I heard as I opened my eyes to Shane jumping out of surprise. Referring to the penguin game Shane was playing on my iPad, the doctor pulled out his iPhone and he and Shane began to discuss what levels they've achieved on various, frivolous iPhone games. Then the doctor showed Shane a new game. "Here, practice," the doctor instructed as he walked away leaving his phone in the hands of Shane as he made his way to another patient. Shane just looked at me and shrugged. After practicing a bit, the game lost its luster and so Shane just sat there wondering what to do with the doctor's phone. He wondered - I already had my list of all kinds of fun things we could do with such power. Shane put the kabosh on my mischief though and as the doctor almost left the room without his phone, Shane caught his attention and returned the doctor's phone.

I swear, by the end of this whole deal, Shane and my doctor will have exchanged numbers and be official BFFs.

Recharged!

For the long holiday weekend, Shane and I traveled home to Iowa for his step-brother's wedding. It was some much needed family time. Here is a picture of us at the wedding. And if anyone out there is wondering - yes, that is my real hair. It hasn't fallen out yet, at least not all of it. It has certainly thinned quite a bit, but considering this is how much hair I had just minutes after I was born,

I think I have some hair to spare. I did get it chopped pretty short though to make it more manageable when it does fall out. You should see my white bathroom floor turn into brown hairy carpet after I am done doing my hair in the mornings. Some would call a transformation of that magnitude a miracle. I just call it more vacuuming.

Anyway, our weekend at home was just what my soul needed. Family, love, and laughter are the best medicine for a heart far from home. Now I am feeling recharged, ready for treatment this week. It's go time!

Chemo Stinks.

Literally. Chemo drugs have their very own scent. Not only do they have their own scent, but they create this taste/smell combo that overwhelms your senses. The smell of the drugs creates this gut wrenching/gag inducing reaction deep inside of me. Even hours before my treatments, I begin to smell the unique scent of chemo. It's as if my brain tells my body what lies ahead and I begin to feel like I have already had chemo even though it is hours away. When this happens I usually attempt to override my brain and remind my body that it hasn't even had any drugs yet, so it should just settle down.

Treatment number six was last Thursday and it was a tough one emotionally. You would think that by number six I would be over it by now, but this is when it is just getting hard. Shane had an business appointment the afternoon of my treatment so he left about half way through the process. After experiencing five other treatments, I was fairly confident that nothing eventful would happen and I could handle being alone. After he left and I sat in my 10'x5' space I tried to keep my thoughts away by staying occupied. But as it was all over and I walked out of the cancer center to drive myself home, I just couldn't stop the thoughts as I wondered why. Why do I have to go through all of this? And more importantly, why do I have to go through it all so far from home, from the ones I love? I'm not sure why it was so difficult for me to walk out of that cancer center alone. I know in my head that I am not alone in this battle, but sometimes my heart has a hard time believing my head.

In other news, I was scheduled to have a progress PET/CT scan this morning. However, because of insurance, I can only have one every 90 days, so we will wait until the end of chemo treatments to do a scan. And the end is oh-so-near, only two treatments left, one more month!!