Bliggity Bloggity Boo(b)

Did he notice?

      

Today is round 2 of chemo.  I've been heavily warned by survivors and doctors that the side effects of chemo worsen with each treatment. Survivors have the need to share, which is a good thing, but I think they tend to want to scare the hell out of you cause that's what happened to them.  That could put a damper on my ever-so-upbeat gonna kick-this-in-the-ass attitude, but no, I see it as a challenge to prove them all wrong. Let's hope I can!

Sis came to pick up me and my chemo kit from work at noon, and off we headed for round 2. When we got to the oncologist's office, the first thing we did was open the chemo kit. As with last time, it was filled with goodies and entertainment. My favorite thing was the Christmas Ornaments by Basic Grey. OK, so you scrapbooking fools know what I'm talking about, but for the rest of you, it's a line of really cool paper in muted greens, blues, reds, golds, etc. It is the same line of paper that I used to make my handmade Christmas cards this year - what a freakin' coincidence.

An intern came in and checked out my infection and tried to look subtle (although the sour look on her face showed her skepticism that all was well), as she told me it was risky to have chemo with an infection going on. She left to get my Dr. and Sis and I kept chatting and laughing as we usually do.

My Dr. came in and the first thing she said was "It's not too often that I come in a room and hear laughter".  Man, that would be a tough job to deal with depressed and often times dying patients who are so depressed and forlorn all the time.

She checked out the infection and was pleased that it had improved. She said she was 50/50 about letting me have the chemo treatment, but that my white blood count had improved from 300 on Thursday to 1700 on Monday. So, we could give it a go, but I have to take my temp. every day, and  if it spikes to 100.4 I'm off to the hospital.

As she did the exam, she commented that I really look great. She asked how the chemo went the first time and I told her that while I was really tired and the chemical smell from chemo was obnoxious, overall I now feel pretty good. She said it was great that I haven't lost my hair yet, and I replied that sure I had, and that this (pointing to my wig) is my purchased hair. I told her that even Denny didn't notice that I was wearing a wig, and I sat and had dinner with him for 45 minutes the first time I wore it.  Of course, I said, he is a guy! Yes, she agreed, "But tell me this, did he notice that you were missing a left breast?" I just busted up. She laughed and said, "I don't usually joke around with my patients, but you seem to have a really good sense of humor".

Next up, chemo time.  Sis and I went in and set up shop as the nurse prepared my IV for round 2. We dug right into the chemo box and started punching out all of the little circles to make Christmas ornaments.  The nurse kept coming by and checking on our progress. She said it looked like we were having too much fun...and we were.

I didn't get all of the weird sensations of prickling, pain, & throbbing like the first time, so so far, it's looking good.

As we headed home there was no rainbow to greet us, but I was happy that round 2 was now out of the way and I'm one step closer to being finished and kicking the cancer in the ass.

Urgent (NOT) Care

I'm telling you, Urgent Care is such an oxymoron. It should be renamed to "You wanna hang out with a bunch of sick people for several hours", or "Claustrophobic waiting rooms are us", or better yet, "If you're really sick, lie down on the floor outside the waiting room and we'll take you in". The last one worked beautifully for some lady, who immediately was taken in.

My infection had gotten a little bit worse and spread, so I drove myself down to Rancho Bernardo to have it checked out.  I won't bore you with the details, but after 2.5 hours of sitting in a waiting room with a bunch of coughing, miserable people (I did go outside on the patio for 1/2 hour after begging the receptionist to open the outside door - she said it was too cold, at 65 degrees for anyone to sit outisde), I got up and left. I had heard that it would be another 2-3 hours, and for me, it was much riskier to be around all of those airborne germs than to have my infection ignored for a day.  Besides, I had an appointment with my oncologist the next day, and she would check it out.

Round 2

I went back to see Sarge this morning for my second dose of Rocephin.  When I told her that I didn't get the antibiotic prescription yesterday, she said, "Why didn't you tell me you were allergic to sulfa? When I asked you if you had any allergies, you told me no".  I quickly retorted with, "Check your notes, I told you I was allergic to both sulfa and codeine, plus, it's in my records."  Her curt reply was, "Well the pharmacy should have called me for a new prescription". Whatever, at least she wasn't crabby again.

Fortunately, the nurse at this office (I had to go to the coast again), administered the injection really slowly, which meant that it wasn't as painful going in. I still got the incredible muscle pain and had a hard time walking, but I took 3 Advils on the way back to work and it helped enough that it was easier to walk.

Sarge drew a second purple line around the infection, and fortunately, it had receded a bit from yesterday, which means the Rocephin is working - woo hoo!

Sarge gave me a new prescription and told me if there was any change in the infection for the worse, that I had to go immediately to urgent care over the weekend. I need to keep taking my temp, and if it gets over 100.4, I'm in trouble and will be admitted to the hospital.

On the bright side, when I got home, my new chemo kit from Pamela had arrived. Sis and I will open it at the treatment center on Wed. Can't wait to see what our new projects will be. The kits are the bright side to getting chemo.

Cellulitis

Not cellulite, although I have that too, but cellulitis is the skin infection that I have. It's relatively common, but mostly in men and often times in the extremities like your legs. It's really gotten painful and I'm having difficulty moving my arm.

I went to the nurse this morning and she was concerned with the inflamation and pain that I was experiencing. This nurse is quite the drill-sergeant (Sarge) and the first nasty words out of her mouth were, "Did you shave your arm". When I said no, I had "trimmed the hedge that was getting over-grown", she snapped back with "did you cut yourself?" "No, I didn't, it was two weeks ago and I have no clue what's going on." Sarge then went on to say, "I need to get a sample of the the fluid causing the inflamation", which means another lovely needle to extract the bodily fluids. It really wasn't that bad, but all she got was blood, nothing to culture. In order to withdraw the fluid, she had me put my hand on her shoulder so that she could get a clear shot at where to insert the needle. Because of the infection and swelling, it was all I could do to raise my arm high enough to place my hand on her shoulder. So, Sarge starts to chew me out that I should have much more mobility in my arm by now, and she's going to send me to a physical therapist who will really get it moving. I explained to her that I had most of my mobility back prior to the infection, but she was uninterested in my "excuse".

She takes out a purple marker and marks all around the infection so she can tell day-by-day if it improves or worsen.  The actual area is about 5x3" just above my incision.

Then she goes on to tell me that she's going to give me an injection of Rocephin, and it's really going to be painful.  Oh joy, just what I need.

Sarge brings in another nurse who starts preparing the shot. She has two vials of medicine and they're discussing whether or not they need to give me two injections because of the amount of the fluid. Then one of them turns to me and asks how much I weigh. When I told them 120, she responded with, Oh, we can get by with one injection and less medication - thank god!

Sarge didn't lie. A 22-guage needle is not my friend, especially when it's jammed into the front of my thigh (it needed to go into a large muscle and an arm just wouldn't cut it). She did numb the skin first, but of course that just took care of the initial skin breaking. Yep, it truly was the most painful shot I've ever had. Hell, an epidural and a spinal tap are nothing (and they told me how painful that would be). But, there's more...within 5 minutes, the pain in my muscles was excruciating. I had a hard time to walk. So I hobbled to my car, and drove back to work. Then, because it was now about 10:00 a.m. the parking lot was pretty much full and I had to park in the north 40. Thankfully I had Advil waiting patiently at my desk, and popped 3 of those, which kicked in within a half hour. The real bummer is that I have to go back tomorrow for another shot - in my other leg.

Sarge also gave me a prescription for an oral antibiotic, which I planned to fill after my trip to the beauty shop to get my GI Jane look-alike buzz cut. After gimping around throughout the day, having the rest of my hair buzzed, then waiting in line at CVS for 30 minutes for my prescription, it was 6:00 p.m. and I was getting a bit tired, hungry, and cranky. When I finally got my prescription, I read the label, an it was Sulfa, one of the two medications that I'm allergic to.  So much for taking the much needed dose that evening. I left the prescription there and got my money back, not looking forward to telling Sarge, who erroneously prescribed it to me that I wasn't able to pick up my prescription because of her error.

Drive-thru hair-do

Today was the day.  I didn't get the 3-day itch warning that everyone said would happen prior to losing my hair. Today was exactly 2 weeks since my first chemo, and I was told that approximately 2 weeks after the first dose, my hair would fall out.

I got up and took a shower prior to going to work and washed my hair. As I was washing my leg, I noticed a huge clump of hair. What the heck, I thought.  Then mumbled to myself, I guess today is the day. I reached up and pulled on another section of my hair, which promptly came out in my finger tips. Yeah, there were plenty of areas where it didn't come out, but I wasn't about to go to work looking like some well-loved child's rag doll with ratty hair...so what's a girl to do...I got out the scissors and gave myself a hair cut. You know, the kind your kid did when she was about 3 years old and you sobbed because she whacked a hunk right where her beautiful bangs used to be. Yep. Chopped and hacked and cut off everything from the ears forward. If you've never worn a wig before, it's really uncomfortable and itchy if you have hair matted up underneath it, so I fixed that. What the heck, I knew I was going to see Lucy, my hairdresser to have it officially buzzed into a GI Jane do.

Then I put on my wig, and within 2 minutes, I was looking ever-so-normal with a headful of hair. Yes, it was my hair - I paid for it didn't I?

I went to work and a couple of people commented on my new hair cut. I smiled and politely said "thank you". It will be much more fun to see their reaction a month or two down the road when they find out I've been wearing a wig for awhile.

This insta-hair is as convenient as a drive-thru. You get what you want in 2 minutes or less. I'd highly recommend the drive-thru hair-do, if of course you wander down chemo lane. It's kind of like the chemo diet. I wouldn't recommend it to friends, but if you have to go there, heck, take advantage of it as though it's a good thing.

On the health front, I'm still feeling pretty good, but I did get a nasty infection in my chest/armpit, just above the incision. Not sure what's going on, but I'll find out from the nurse in the morning.

Hey all you T-shirt fans

Yah, I'm talking to you. I don't mean just the average white T-shirt to work out in the yard, or the favorite vacation souvenir with Mickey on it, I'm talking about all those shirts/blouses that you wear day in and day out without even a thought as to the process of putting it on.  OK, you say, she's gone wacky again on one of her tangents.  But no, this is going somewhere.  Really.

Since November 4th, I have not been able to wear a T-shirt, turtleneck, pull-over sweatshirt, or any shirt for that matter unless it zipped up or buttoned up, simply because my left arm wouldn't move any further north than parallel with my shoulder.  Well, let me tell you, with lots of stretching, reaching, and Wii Fitting (I'm sure that's a word) I was able to put on a pull over top to wear to work today.  Woo freaking Hoo!  I was getting so tired of my 5 button up tops that I was wearing and my lame attempt of changing them up by adding a vest or jacket to the outfit.  Yes, I'll still continue with my vest/jacket look for another year as I try to  keep my lopsided chest in the incognito mode.  Not sure it's working, but good grief is it weird to have parts that should be similar to the even bars (think gymnastic folks) but really look more like the uneven bars.

In less than a year, I'll have a new best friend in my plastic surgeon, and she'll make sure I never have to wear another vest again, unless of course I want to.  In case you haven't figured it out, an open vest sticks out evenly in front and is my secret weapon to disguise my altered chest.

That's not a scar!

This post is actually a bit late as this happened last Wednesday morning, before I left the office for my first chemo.

One of the guys I work quite closely with was explaining to  me something that he wanted me to get done that day. I decided I had to tell him about my cancer and that I was leaving early for chemo, so that he wouldn't think I was a flake. What's really cool is he was very familiar with breast cancer (making it much more comfortable for me to explain my condition as he didn't have as many pre-conceived fears that many others do) and launched into a few stories of his own. As it turns out, his mom had had a mastectomy 20 years ago along with chemo.  Her chemo was of course nastier than it is today, but she fared well. She then had a reoccurence on the other breast about 5 years ago, and again she came through with flying colors.

Then he proceeds to tell me that he too had breast cancer when he was 20 and had a double mastectomy. I knew men could get breast cancer, but I'd never spoken to one who had. So then he proceeds to lift up his shirt and show me his scars. He was very proud of his two measly 1.5" inch incisions below each areola and nipple, and also the 1/4" scars from the drain tubes. Can I emphasize that he still had his nipples and areolas.  What, I thought to myself...that's not a scar...this is a scar!

OK, so you, my lady friends who have witnessed my lifting my shirt to show off my battle scar are thinking "no - she didn't".  Well, you're right, but damn, my scar is so much bigger and badder - can I say 7" from breast bone to armpit, not to mention there is no nipple or areola...just a chest that's reminscent of a 10 year-old boy or girl. It was tempting, but somehow business ethics do not allow a lady to lift her top in the office, even when the men can do it.  OK, maybe I could have, but I'd only worked there 2 days and really didn't want to get fired just yet.