I changed the look of things. Mainly out of boredom, but also because I remembered that I had that option. I still have plenty of energy, which is fantastic. I still have a cold, which sucks. I think I'll basically have some sort of cold until June or so. Max is a heck of a dreamer, wakes up screaming, screams in his sleep, etc. Its hard to get a good night's sleep with him around. I used to feel bad that he was having these traumatic nightmares, but then I heard him yelling things like last night, "no mommy, I don't want the cheese!" Yeah, not so traumatic. Brent is a very vivid dreamer, so apparently its inherited. I'm thinking by the time Max actually sleeps through the night, the radiation will have caught up with me, and that will be my reason for being exhausted. With the help of a lot of coffee, I'll live. I don't have any burning yet either, even though I over-analyze any skin sensation that I have. Monday on my drive home, I started to wonder if something was a sunburn-like feeling, then I realized it was the wrong side of my chest. Gifted.
We're on to puzzle #2 in the waiting area. The people that actually do the zapping are Calli & Tim most days. These are two incredibly nice people, as all of my nurses/doctors have been. They ask how school was, how are the students, can we see pictures of your kids, laugh at my lame jokes, and answer all of my questions. Basically, they humor me in the nicest most sincere way possible.
I have this x-ray machine rotating around me for the radiation, so I have a variety of questions about how that works. Here's what I've learned so far: There's a window in the rotating thing where the radiation comes through. Inside the window there are 120 "teeth" for lack of a better term, that move together and apart to help focus where the radiation is going. They block the radiation from hitting more area than we need to. They start out looking kind of like an unzipped zipper, then some of them move closer together, or farther apart depending on which part of the plan we're doing. I have about 6 different times that I get radiated, each lasting about 10 seconds? So basically, machine starts above me, buzzes about 5 seconds, rotates to the right a bit while the teeth things are moving around to target a different area, zaps again for a few seconds, rotates further, etc. After I think the third one, Calli comes on the intercom with "Melissa, please move your head to the right," and then we do the last three.
Fridays there's some sort of probe, ok that sounds bad, let's come up with a different term... yeah, I've got nothing, its a probe that gets taped to my chest in different locations. I don't quite understand this thing, but when the machine zaps me, the probe registers some numbers. The numbers tell the "team" whether or not we have the right amount of radiation. Tuesdays we have x-ray day where they take x-rays to make sure they are positioning me correctly. Wednesdays are doctor days where I meet with the radiation doctor and she checks my skin, energy level, blood counts, etc. I had to have blood drawn last week, and I'm kind of curious what the results will be as far as white blood cell count and iron level. I have a tendency to be anemic. They're checking to make sure things are accurate constantly. Its great. Oh, and every other day I wear the mold of my chest. Its called a bolus. I had to ask how to spell it yesterday, because its pronounced bullis. I think I mentioned on here before that they made the mold of my chest. I have that on my chest while they're radiating to bring the rays closer to the skin, where the lymph nodes are. I also asked yesterday when are the milkshake days, and apparently they don't have that in place yet.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
33 To Go!
I can see this countdown will quickly get old. The whole radiation process is just like an x-ray. I change into the sweet robes, wait in the creepy waiting room where there is always a puzzle, they line me up on the table, zap me, and I go home. Its very short, and very easy. Wednesdays are doctor days, so they will take a bit longer. My favorite part is the puzzle because I love puzzles, but I'm annoyed with other people working on it as well because they just slow me down. One lady yesterday kept celebrating when she put 2 pieces together. "Those two fit!" I think she needs more in her life. I do like talking to the others in the waiting room, though. They're silent, but I tend to just start asking questions. They're probably annoyed with me, but oh well. One lady has had a rough trip with an oncologist she wasn't thrilled with, and a lot of miscommunication. She was told she wouldn't need radiation, then after she was done with chemotherapy and thought she was all done, they told her she would have to do it after all. That would be very frustrating to feel like you're at the end only to find out you have more stuff. The more I talk to her, the better I feel about the decisions I made as far as surgery, and the more confident I feel in my doctors. She's doing well now, but has definitely had a hard time.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Radiation #1 Today
I start radiation today. I had the run through yesterday. They basically took x-rays and such to make sure everything was ready to go. They needed to make sure that calculations are correct and positioning and stuff. I didn't see the x-rays, but we're starting today, so we must be good to go. I lay on a table and there are lasers in the walls that align with my tattoos. They said that, and I thought 'yeah right, lasers in the walls,' but its true. One laser to my left, one to my right, and when I look between my feet, I see the third. So they kind of shimmy me around until I'm in the right spot. Its kind of comical.
They also had me meet with a social worker that works in the the cancer center building. She said they believe in treating "the whole person," so emotionally as well. She is a counselor who specializes in oncology and specifically young adults. We talked for a while, she just wanted to get to know me better and make sure I knew her services were available to me. I really liked her, and she basically hit on everything that bothers me, or I feel guilt over, or am curious about. She talked about the stresses of having little kids in the middle of all of this. She just looked at the ages of Max & Cannon and said "the two and a half year old throws fits because he's two, not because you have cancer." I started laughing because I had hardly spoken and she already knew that was a biggie. It was just nice to know that she had heard the exact same concerns from other people my age in my situation, and its normal. She was very reassuring. She also emphasized taking care of myself, and making sure I continue to do the things that make me happy. She said it may sound selfish, but its true. She used the airplane scenario. When you fly, they always tell you to put the oxygen mask over yourself before your children. I always think that's absurd, I'll totally put it on them first. But, if you do that, how are you going to get your children off the plane when you can't breathe? Take care of yourself first, or you're not being the parent you can be. Makes sense. She also said that if Brent wants to talk, she's available to him too. This is the FIRST time Brent has had people outside of our friends and family offer to help him. There should be more for spouses/partners/friends. We can call, or just tell the nurses while I'm in radiation that we'd like to talk, and she'll make time. Aaahhh...
Saturday I went to a doctor that was recommended to me by a family friend. I didn't really even know what he did, I was just told that he had heard about me, was a very warm person, and thought he could help. To make a long story short, he does acupuncture, as well as naturopathic medicine, basically Chinese medicine he said. I hated it. I don't know what it was about the whole situation that bothered me, but I was a little freaked when I left. He wasn't warm, he wasn't rude, but he wasn't warm. He didn't know who I was, he didn't really want to hear who I was, and I felt like he basically said "do this or your cancer will come back." No, it wasn't in those words, but that's just how I felt. I don't very often get freaked out, but I just had to get out of there all of a sudden. You could basically get me to do anything if you're going to guarantee me that cancer won't come back, so maybe I just felt taken advantage of, I don't know. Anyway, I won't be back to see him anytime soon. A family friend of ours says that your spirit will tell you what you need to do, and I guess my spirit was definitely against that guy. :)
So, radiation begins today, everyday at about 4pm, for seven weeks. I feel kind of excited to get going. Maybe the excitement is more because President Obama was sworn in, but I'm ready to go.
Oh, I need to tell you that Brent put together a book for me with pictures and the blog, and the comments. Its amazing. I cried, my dad started to read it, he cried, mom read a few, cried, Debbie looked at the first page and cried. :) Its very cool, and possibly the best thing anyone has done for me.
They also had me meet with a social worker that works in the the cancer center building. She said they believe in treating "the whole person," so emotionally as well. She is a counselor who specializes in oncology and specifically young adults. We talked for a while, she just wanted to get to know me better and make sure I knew her services were available to me. I really liked her, and she basically hit on everything that bothers me, or I feel guilt over, or am curious about. She talked about the stresses of having little kids in the middle of all of this. She just looked at the ages of Max & Cannon and said "the two and a half year old throws fits because he's two, not because you have cancer." I started laughing because I had hardly spoken and she already knew that was a biggie. It was just nice to know that she had heard the exact same concerns from other people my age in my situation, and its normal. She was very reassuring. She also emphasized taking care of myself, and making sure I continue to do the things that make me happy. She said it may sound selfish, but its true. She used the airplane scenario. When you fly, they always tell you to put the oxygen mask over yourself before your children. I always think that's absurd, I'll totally put it on them first. But, if you do that, how are you going to get your children off the plane when you can't breathe? Take care of yourself first, or you're not being the parent you can be. Makes sense. She also said that if Brent wants to talk, she's available to him too. This is the FIRST time Brent has had people outside of our friends and family offer to help him. There should be more for spouses/partners/friends. We can call, or just tell the nurses while I'm in radiation that we'd like to talk, and she'll make time. Aaahhh...
Saturday I went to a doctor that was recommended to me by a family friend. I didn't really even know what he did, I was just told that he had heard about me, was a very warm person, and thought he could help. To make a long story short, he does acupuncture, as well as naturopathic medicine, basically Chinese medicine he said. I hated it. I don't know what it was about the whole situation that bothered me, but I was a little freaked when I left. He wasn't warm, he wasn't rude, but he wasn't warm. He didn't know who I was, he didn't really want to hear who I was, and I felt like he basically said "do this or your cancer will come back." No, it wasn't in those words, but that's just how I felt. I don't very often get freaked out, but I just had to get out of there all of a sudden. You could basically get me to do anything if you're going to guarantee me that cancer won't come back, so maybe I just felt taken advantage of, I don't know. Anyway, I won't be back to see him anytime soon. A family friend of ours says that your spirit will tell you what you need to do, and I guess my spirit was definitely against that guy. :)
So, radiation begins today, everyday at about 4pm, for seven weeks. I feel kind of excited to get going. Maybe the excitement is more because President Obama was sworn in, but I'm ready to go.
Oh, I need to tell you that Brent put together a book for me with pictures and the blog, and the comments. Its amazing. I cried, my dad started to read it, he cried, mom read a few, cried, Debbie looked at the first page and cried. :) Its very cool, and possibly the best thing anyone has done for me.
Monday, January 12, 2009
I have energy!!
My eyelashes are growing!!! My left eye kept more of them than the right eye, so its been a little uneven which I'm sure no one but me even notices. The right eye though has some little tiny short lashes that are coming in, they're gray, but they're there!! Woo hoo!! I'm hoping the hair on my head is soon to follow. I have some individual hairs that probably never would have fallen out that were like an inch and a half long, but they would stick straight up in the air, so we trimmed them. Brent re-buzzed me so its all one length. We'll see how it comes back in. Gray & curly is my guess.
I don't think my energy level is all the way back to "normal," but its close. I get through my normal day pretty easily, including racing Max in the backyard or wrestling with both of them, but after the little dudes go to bed, I'm done. Although, before cancer I was pretty well done after they went to bed, so its hard to tell. The only doctor like thing I have this week is a trip to the dentist on Wednesday, and I'm pretty sure normal people do that, so I can handle that one. Although I did play the cancer card last time I was there to avoid getting a cavity filled, so I think this time there will be shots. Dang it!
We had a great weekend visiting my grandparents for a late Christmas, and then mom and I went shopping. I haven't been shopping in a year or so, (seriously, not exaggerating), so I loved it. Total adrenaline rush from spending money. Sad, materialistic, true. A friend of the family also made a very cool cake for me. It was a congrats for being done with chemo cake. :) It was awesome. It had three tiers, beautiful colors, and pictures from the blog on it. Way more cake than we could eat, but we tried. I was very impressed, very professional. I have a picture of it somewhere, if I remember when I get home I'll put it on here. Thanks Jeri!
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Sooner than later?
I wrote out a whole new post after meeting with the radiation people on Monday, but somehow the computer deleted it. I'm sure I did nothing wrong, it was all the computer.
The radiation people are some more smart people and I like them. There's the main doctor, the x-ray technician girl (don't know her title), physicist and jr. physicist. I didn't know I would get to meet the physicists or that they would even be involved in all of this, but that was exciting for me. I got to again wear a sweet hospital gown and robe. Regardless of how many doctors offices I have visited, all the gowns look the same. Flattering and stylish. Since they're radiating the top half, I only had to take my shirt off. Lucky me. After I had the robe on, I headed to waiting room #2. This was sort of creepy. I don't know if you've ever seen the movie "Defending Your Life" but as soon as I looked at the waiting room, I flashed to that movie. It was one of those that was on all the time, so you watched it when there wasn't anything else good. Anyway, it basically had people (all in robes) that were waiting to hear if they were going to heaven, or going to be sent back to Earth to try again. I walked into this waiting room and there were like 5-6 people, all in matching robes, and totally silent. There were puzzles, magazines, juice, and silence. It was weird. Included in the 5-6 people was this tall guy. I'm assuming he's tall because his robe was way too short, and he must have needed radiation over his whole body, because he didn't have anything on but the gown. He was very comfortable in the gown, no modesty there. I made a point to remember the chair he was in and never sit there.
Once it was my turn I laid on a table for almost an hour while they lined me up, and built molds of my chest and such. I'm guessing these pieces won't be going in a museum, but it was interesting to watch it all. The mold consists of 2 layers of saran wrap, a plastic thing that forms to you after being in a water bath, vaseline, and some stuff that has the feel and density of skin. Apparently I wear this apparatus while they're zapping me and it brings the radiation closer to the skin. The lymph nodes is what they're mainly aiming for, and the ones they're aiming at are right under the skin. This also means I will have some intense burning of the skin. It will turn red and peel. If it gets to the point of oozing (doctors word, not mine), then maybe we'll change some things. Um, maybe we'll change some things? Maybe? I really don't think I'll like oozing. Just a hunch.
The doctor mainly emphasized fatigue in all of this. She said its not something to just push through, which is what I have a tendency to do. She said I've never been, nor will I ever be this tired again in my life. Cool. The good news was that we might get to start this whole process sooner than later. Because I've handled chemo pretty well, she felt like if my energy is fully back in a couple of weeks then we can get going. It would be very nice to get this stage going, over with sooner, etc. We'll see if that works out or not. If I'm good to go, then I go back for a dry run (or an undress-rehearsal as Debbie called it, teachers have such lame humor), and then the next day we would start. We'll see!
The radiation people are some more smart people and I like them. There's the main doctor, the x-ray technician girl (don't know her title), physicist and jr. physicist. I didn't know I would get to meet the physicists or that they would even be involved in all of this, but that was exciting for me. I got to again wear a sweet hospital gown and robe. Regardless of how many doctors offices I have visited, all the gowns look the same. Flattering and stylish. Since they're radiating the top half, I only had to take my shirt off. Lucky me. After I had the robe on, I headed to waiting room #2. This was sort of creepy. I don't know if you've ever seen the movie "Defending Your Life" but as soon as I looked at the waiting room, I flashed to that movie. It was one of those that was on all the time, so you watched it when there wasn't anything else good. Anyway, it basically had people (all in robes) that were waiting to hear if they were going to heaven, or going to be sent back to Earth to try again. I walked into this waiting room and there were like 5-6 people, all in matching robes, and totally silent. There were puzzles, magazines, juice, and silence. It was weird. Included in the 5-6 people was this tall guy. I'm assuming he's tall because his robe was way too short, and he must have needed radiation over his whole body, because he didn't have anything on but the gown. He was very comfortable in the gown, no modesty there. I made a point to remember the chair he was in and never sit there.
Once it was my turn I laid on a table for almost an hour while they lined me up, and built molds of my chest and such. I'm guessing these pieces won't be going in a museum, but it was interesting to watch it all. The mold consists of 2 layers of saran wrap, a plastic thing that forms to you after being in a water bath, vaseline, and some stuff that has the feel and density of skin. Apparently I wear this apparatus while they're zapping me and it brings the radiation closer to the skin. The lymph nodes is what they're mainly aiming for, and the ones they're aiming at are right under the skin. This also means I will have some intense burning of the skin. It will turn red and peel. If it gets to the point of oozing (doctors word, not mine), then maybe we'll change some things. Um, maybe we'll change some things? Maybe? I really don't think I'll like oozing. Just a hunch.
The doctor mainly emphasized fatigue in all of this. She said its not something to just push through, which is what I have a tendency to do. She said I've never been, nor will I ever be this tired again in my life. Cool. The good news was that we might get to start this whole process sooner than later. Because I've handled chemo pretty well, she felt like if my energy is fully back in a couple of weeks then we can get going. It would be very nice to get this stage going, over with sooner, etc. We'll see if that works out or not. If I'm good to go, then I go back for a dry run (or an undress-rehearsal as Debbie called it, teachers have such lame humor), and then the next day we would start. We'll see!
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Life after chemo
Ok, no Good Morning America. They never called, as Jerrad says, we're old news. :) Good thing, I would have watched myself and felt like a jack ass, so I'm good in my own little world.
It still seems a little weird that I don't have another chemo in a week or so. I am used to it I guess. What a sad thing to get used to. I have this new norm of feeling good for about a week, or less, and then feeling like crap again. Today I was thinking I'd go for a run, which usually is followed by a thought like "that seems pointless, you're just going to feel like crap again." But I get to feel good for a while. Weird. (I still didn't go for a run) :)
I have realized that this cancer business is never going to go away. Ok, the cancer cells have gone, but the word is always going to be here. I for some reason thought that once the chemo was done, that it would be easier, that I wouldn't think about it all the time, it wouldn't consume me. As soon as there is a lull, thoughts of recurrence and fear just sink in. I'm sure it won't always be that way, but I wonder how long until I can think about something else. I think Brent's tired of having cancer conversations. I'm tired of having cancer conversations. I'm tired of being defined as the girl that has cancer. I talked to a survivor the other day and she said it took her 2 years until she didn't think about it constantly. Really, two years!? Ugh. I will seek professional help if it hangs on that long.
I'm slowly learning more about tamoxifen. It can cause some more menopause like symptoms, fabulous. It can put me into menopause, very fabulous. It can cause some depression, it can cause weight gain, etc etc. These things seem minor when you compare them to having cancer and dying, but good God, one more side effect just sucks.
I feel good today and I'm excited to keep feeling better. I'm excited to have hair, and I haven't cried today. Look out world, things are looking up.
It still seems a little weird that I don't have another chemo in a week or so. I am used to it I guess. What a sad thing to get used to. I have this new norm of feeling good for about a week, or less, and then feeling like crap again. Today I was thinking I'd go for a run, which usually is followed by a thought like "that seems pointless, you're just going to feel like crap again." But I get to feel good for a while. Weird. (I still didn't go for a run) :)
I have realized that this cancer business is never going to go away. Ok, the cancer cells have gone, but the word is always going to be here. I for some reason thought that once the chemo was done, that it would be easier, that I wouldn't think about it all the time, it wouldn't consume me. As soon as there is a lull, thoughts of recurrence and fear just sink in. I'm sure it won't always be that way, but I wonder how long until I can think about something else. I think Brent's tired of having cancer conversations. I'm tired of having cancer conversations. I'm tired of being defined as the girl that has cancer. I talked to a survivor the other day and she said it took her 2 years until she didn't think about it constantly. Really, two years!? Ugh. I will seek professional help if it hangs on that long.
I'm slowly learning more about tamoxifen. It can cause some more menopause like symptoms, fabulous. It can put me into menopause, very fabulous. It can cause some depression, it can cause weight gain, etc etc. These things seem minor when you compare them to having cancer and dying, but good God, one more side effect just sucks.
I feel good today and I'm excited to keep feeling better. I'm excited to have hair, and I haven't cried today. Look out world, things are looking up.
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