Faithfully Fighting

Saturday’s blog was so true.  Katie and I had a great day, we were tired and I tucked her in early.  Then about 8:00 that evening I felt kind of cold.  Pete had just arrived and I climbed on the couch next to him and grabbed a blanket to cover up with.  15 minutes later I was trembling.  I could not get warm.  At this point I new something wasn’t right.  Took my temperature and it was around 99.1.  It was so amazingly sudden I was shocked.  Now I had been given strict orders from the oncology department that if my temperature when up to 100.5 I needed to call them.  So I quickly popped two Tylenol to try and keep my temperature down.  I got in my flannel PJs (trembling like I was having spasms) and climbed into bed while Pete piled 3 more blankets on the bed for me.  I started drinking copious amount of water (trying to keep the fever down).  At this point I noticed that my right chest area was pretty sore.  The new ones had been doing great, but now one side was extremely tender to touch or movement.  Within a few hours I was moaning in pain and trying to sleep, but it was extremely fitful.  The highest my temperature went that night was 100.1 (with Tylenol going in steadily).  Pete couldn’t be persuaded to leave my side until almost 2:30 am and Katie had woken and was having difficulty going back to sleep.  What a mess!!

On Sunday morning I called the oncology emergency number.  Even though the chills had abated my temperature was hovering in the 99’s with Tylenol, but the pain in my chest was breath taking.  I was pretty sure I had cellulites.  I had it several times two years earlier when I’d had my lumpectomy and then again after radiation.  I have to say the PA on call for the oncology center was the sweetest person (they are all very nice).  She told me to call my plastic surgeon, and called in some medication in case I needed it.  I tried calling the plastic surgeon, but he was out of town and I got the doctor on call, who wanted me to come to the emergency room.  I wasn’t sure that was a good idea.  Luckily the oncology PA called back shortly and she had talked to one of the doctors who told her to call in an antibiotic for me.  So we went that route.  She wanted me to call the office on Monday.

This is when the real fun begins!  My oncologist wanted me to be seen, so they wanted me in there at 2:30 pm.  Dad took me, I was still incredibly weak and sore and angry that I couldn’t go to work.  They called me back into an exam room.  The Nurse practitioner came in, again an incredibly nice person.  I explained what had happened (read above). Then he examined the area.  The expression on his face didn’t change, but I saw him sit up straighter and purse his lips.  I knew it was not pretty, but that’s a pretty strong reaction from a medical person.  He said “I’m going to consult with the doctor.”  And left the room.  This didn’t seem good to me.  I was kind of expecting Ok, keep up with your antibiotics and we’ll see how you’re doing next week when you come for treatment.  Not 5 minutes later in walks the NP and my doctor.  He says “Up on the table”.  I hopped up and pull up my shirt again.  He looks at the area then walks over to the phone on the wall.  “Get me Doctor Lori Boyd”(that’s my general surgeon).  At this point I realize I could be in for a rougher day than I thought.  I won’t bore you with all the ruckeous but I’ll just say 3 tubes of blood later, and many people talking about admission and intravenous IVs and surgeon availability my exhaustion was getting the better of me.  They discovered (through blood work) that my white blood cell count was way low, so they didn’t really want to admit me unless necessary (apparently hospitals are full of germs).  So they got me started on and IV of antibiotics.  Just about that time my doctor, the NP, and another young guy with a white coat comes over to me.  This is the surgeon on call at my surgeon’s practice and my doctor wants him to see the area.  I walk, wheeling the IV cart into another exam room, climb onto a freezing vinyl table and once again raise my shirt for yet another exam.  By this time I’m pretty sure that I now have a red hot boil on my chest.  The very young surgeon takes a look and decided a CT scan is in order, and then makes the statement “I’m not that familiar with flaps and these are so new I’m not sure I’d be the right person to deal with any issues we may find.”  I have no idea what is happening at this moment.  I had no idea what they were thinking might be happening to me, but I suddenly realize they are considering the possibility that I may have to go back into surgery.  I felt my heart stop beating.  I looked right at that young man with his white coat on and said “Well no offense but, if anything needs to be done I will either wait for Dr Lambert (plastic surgeon) or Dr. Boyd”.  It all felt so incredibly out of control to me, I was sinking into a void, once again.  I had to let them know it was me, and I was not just wheeling into surgery with anyone.  I think he actually looked relieved and he said he completely understood. After that I got wheeled to CT scan then wheeled back to the treatment center.  The CT didn’t show any “pockets” (I have no idea what that means, but apparently it’s a good thing they weren’t there).  I had a slight reaction to the rate of antibiotic I was getting, and got some benedryl IV then finished the antibiotic.  It was exhausting.

Today, Tuesday, I had been scheduled to see my general surgeon at 10:50 then go to the treatment center for more antibiotics.  When Dr. Boyd came into the exam room she had a “what is going on” look on her face.  She was not happy with what she saw and she didn’t try to hid it from me.  This little woman puffed around the small room shaking her head.  “Well, the CT was clear.”  Good news I already knew.  Must have been the only good news she had because she didn’t say too much else.  I asked if I had to continue the antibiotic treatment and she gave me her do-I-have-two-heads look.  She told me to get dressed and she’d be back.  She left the room and I could hear her on the phone.  Ok, come on who do you think she’s talking about????  I leaned my ear against the crack of the door trying to easedrop on my own information.  She was obviously talking to my oncologist (I think they are also social friends – from the impression they both give).  She talked about another case she’s had where the woman got inflamed celulitus after each chemo treatment.  The rest of the conversations was mostly uhs and I think so too.  She hung up and I jumped back up on exam table just in time before the door opened.  She told me to go get lunch and back to the hospital for the antibiotic IVs.  “Oh, and by the way I’ll be in surgery on Friday and I’ll come by to see you there.  I also want you to have an appointment here in a week.”  Friday??  What do you mean Friday??  That’s when I found out I’ll be having IVs the remainder of the week.  I’m surprised you all couldn’t hear the air escaping from my lungs in despair this afternoon.  That means no work this week and probably not much next week.   The one thing that helps me feel normal, and like I’m not drowning everyday. 

When I got home from treatment, 4 hours later, I had two messaged from the nurse Sue at the surgeon’s office.  She made me an appointment to see a plastic surgeon.  Can’t wait for tomorrow.

Thank you,

Lynn

Pete chided me last night.  He said I should be blogging.  He’s right, I should.  This week has been a good week.  Last time I wrote I was in the beginning of the chemo.  I will admit the first three days were not fun at all, not excruciating, but not fun.  Nobody, told me you feel like you are jumping out of your skin.  I felt like my organs were dancing the jig inside me for two days.  The next two days were very weak, but better each day (although my tongue turned to mush on day three). 

Weds I got back to work.  Wonderful, wonderful work.  I am so blessed with the job that I have.  My supervisor doesn’t put pressure on me, he expects me to do what I can and no more.  I only worked 5 or 6 hours a day Weds, Thurs and Fri, but truthfully I think I could have worked 8 on Friday (I just didn’t want to push it).  I’m going to go back full time next week, until my next treatment.  I know I’ll be exhausted, but it’s that “I really accomplished something and now I can sleep like a baby” exhaustion that is so terrific.  Anyway, on Weds we had a VTC Conference call (video teleconference).  It was with a group in the TX office.  Let’s see, it’s my first day back, my hair is still there, but coming out in clumps, our group is starting a new project, whatever should I wear.  I pretty much hung in the back of the room because one of the amazing things about chemo is it must eat brain cells.  The folks in TX were giving us a great overview of what they do (to see if we had any ideas about working together or using their services or improving their processes).  They had sent flow charts and information as visual aids.  Now usually in these circumstances I’m hanging on every word, looking for areas I might have questions on to get more information for the project.  I usually pride myself on seeing the little things that matter.  Weds I was lucky to focus long enough to get everyone’s name.  Here’s an example :  “Ok, ok the customer survey’s are compiled into a database and what they do with . . . . I wonder how long that light hasn’t been working in the room?”  I am not exaggerating!  I had the attention span of a 3 year old.  At the end of the meeting when they asked if their was anything we could do for them I thought of a survey opportunity that could be used on another project (that I had to hand over when I left for surgery), but for the life of me I couldn’t remember the name of the project or if they’d already discussed it in the meeting, so I didn’t bring it up.  I know, I know, in the entire scheme of things it wasn’t important and I’m not really stressing about it, it just seemed like icing on the cake.  Let’s take away your body parts, pump you full of chemicals that make you feel sick while they are supposed to heal you, and then suck all of the brains cells out of your head so you function like a bobble head.  Oh, don’t forget we get to strip you of your physical identity and finances while we are at it!  My next treatment isn’t until March 27^th (Yeah).

The rest of the week got better every day.  Last night was game night and Katie and Pete and I played Uno Attack until Pete had to run an errand and Katie and I played several more very competitive games.  Today has been a wonderful day.  It is bright here and feeling a little like spring.  Katie and I took a walk in the sunshine this morning and then explored a little behind the house in the woods.  Our adventure was lovely.  She is playing with a friend right now and then going to a birthday party this evening.  Doesn’t it sound terribly boring, I love it!  Saturdays are wonderful, and Sundays and Mondays and Tuesdays and Weds (well some) and every other day of the week.  They should all begin with a smile, prayers and a praise!  Blessing everywhere!

Love Lynn

Ok, it’s been 2 days since my first treatment and I know that I owe everyone a blog.  So here we go.  Let’s start with the verse that was in one of my devotions the morning of treatment.   He gives power to the weak, and to those who have no might He increases strength.  Isaiah 40:29  Isn’t it wonderful when the Lord touches us with the exact message we need at the exact moment in time.  The title of the devotion was even Relying on the Creator, which is my goal during this entire process (even though I sometimes feel like I am failing miserably).  In my greatest moments of weakness, when I want to flee the fastest and farthest He has continued to reach out to me with His every strong, comforting, Loving arms, through His people, or through His Word.  Once again I say I am overwhelmed.

The treatment was kind of scary to me, but really not as bad as my imagination had anticipated.  I was comforted by the prayer card given me at church Weds evening.  Once again my wonderful, faithful brothers and sisters in Christ signed up to pray for me during the treatment. 

When I saw the doctor last week he had given me three prescriptions for nausea medication.  One of the meds was Emend which he had told me was pretty expensive.  Well, at the pharmacy, after my prescription plan paid, I paid $72.00 for 3 pills.  I’m thinking wow, that’s a lot of money for 3 pills, I wondered if they came with a gourmet meal or designer shoes.  You take one pill before treatment and then one every morning for two mornings after treatment.  I now think I’m glad I have those pills.  Even with them I’ve had a couple of moments with my stomach (under the best circumstances my stomach is my reaction area), but nothing that hasn’t been manageable.  I got through the steroid flush, yesterday.  I can’t tell if I’m worn out from the chemo, or from the emotion of the chemo, so the jury will have to be out on that for a while.

During the treatment time you are surrounded by other folks receiving a variety of treatments.  At first everyone was pretty self contained, but by the end of the time people were sharing sweets and talking.  I was passing around pictures of my new grandbaby and my kids.  It was a strange communal environment.  Everyone was waiting out their time, patiently.  Some calm, some nervous, some looking a little sick. 

Pete took me.  He faithfully held my hand the entire time.  Reading quietly or talking calmly to me.  In the beginning, after the very kind nurse had explained everything she would be pouring into my veins that afternoon, I turned to him and said “I can’t do this, I want to leave.”  He calmly said to me “We can do all things through God who strengthens us.”  I don’t know if he knew he’d need that scripture and was just holding on to it, or whether is just popped into his head, but it was perfect at that moment.

I’m doing well this morning!! Did some light stretching exercises this morning and maybe will get on the treadmill for 15 minutes this afternoon, but will probably rest the remainder of the day.  Katie’s coming up later this morning (she stayed at her Dad's last night) and we are going to play battleship and read.  A nice quiet rainy Saturday.    I love being boring!!

God Bless

Lynn

Let’s talk about wigs. I know I said I wasn’t going to get one. Then I got thinking, I have season tickets to the Summer musical theater at the local college (which I love going to).  If I go all bald headed or with my hat everyone who looks at me is going to think “Oh, look, she must be doing chemo. Poor thing.”  Guys don’t have to worry about that.  People just think they are loosing their hair and they’ve shaved their heads.  Now I’m not a person that usually cares what people think.  But the more I think about it the more I considered the anonymity of people not knowing I am having chemo.  If I can pretend I’m NOT battling cancer.  I kind of like that idea.  I still don’t think I’m going to wear the wig every day, but for special occasions or when I feel like pretending it might be ok.

Anyway I went, by myself a week ago, and tried on wigs at this wonderful place recommended by the hospital.  They had all kinds of wigs and anything a woman needed to face the trial of cancer treatments.  They even gave me a courtesy bag full of wonderful things (this kind of blew the entire, pretending to not have cancer theory).  I was very shy at first.  I tried on a wig that was ok, but didn’t look like me.  But a couple of wigs later there was this fabulous 60ish, but in style wig.  It was short, but it had long bangs and came around my face then had the cutest curly flips in the back.  When I put it on I looked adorable.  I thought it was just me at first then I glanced up at the stylest helping me and her face was lit up with the biggest smile.  She saw it too!!  It was me.  She quickly grabbed the color swatches and said we would have to find a color I loved, close to my original color.  Of course, she asked if I wanted to try on any others, all the time telling me how wonderful the wig looked.  Of course I got it.  They ordered it for me.

2 days later Mom, Katie and me when back to pick up the wig.  Katie was so excited I thought she was going to jump out of her skin.  Mom was just glad I decided to get a wig.  I wanted to surprise them.  When I put it on and turned around my mom’s face lit up.  Katie looked very serious for a moment, her eyes growing large, and then she clapped her hands and jumped up and down.  “It’s short, but it looks really good!”.  I smiled at her.  You know if you can please a 7 year old you’ve got it made.  The color was such a close match that I thought a piece of long hair sticking out was part of the wig that needed trimmed, until I pulled on it and realized it was my own hair.

Tonight I get my long locks cut short.  Really, really short.  I have to ease into this and this is a step.  It’s really just hair! 

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