'Tis The Season

With Halloween right around the corner, what better time of year to need a blood transfusion!

Every time I go to chemo, I get weighed, and have my temp, oxygen and blood pressure checked. Then a nurse comes in and injects the IV and draws some blood. The blood goes to the lab where they check to make sure my levels are safe for me to get the chemo treatment. Last Thursday, my hemoglobin level was low but safe enough for me to still get treatment. The nurse contacted the doctor who thought it was low enough that I should a blood transfusion so that my levels would be boosted enough to be safe the following week. I do as I am told, so I took the day off on Friday and headed to Central DuPage Hospital for the day.

Interestingly, the entire experience was not that much different than a chemo treatment. I went in and sat in a recliner. A nurse took my temp. and blood pressure and inserted an IV into my arm. An order was placed for my A + blood and I waited a little while and then when the blood arrived, the nurse hooked me up. Much like chemo, there was no strange feeling when some stranger's processed hemoglobin began its trek through my veins. I graded some papers, read some of my book, surfed the internet, watched t.v., ate a hospital lunch and even tried to take a little snooze. Six hours later, I drove myself home. No big whoop.

It seems strange that I wouldn't feel any different. I had just had a transplant for God's sake! Shouldn't I feel something? I was hoping the new blood that hadn't given me any ill side-effects would give me a burst of energy, but sadly, my Saturday was much like the others - spent feeling weak and very tired and sleeping a lot. Luckily, Sundays are better and so far I am feeling able to go back to work on Mondays.

I want to give a special thank you to any and all of you who have ever donated blood. It is thanks to you that I was able to be given this gift to help me feel better. I am unsure if I will need another transfusion in the future. Right now I am in between treatments 2 and 3 out of 12, so I can only guess that in 8 more treatments my blood counts may be low again. If need be, I'll do what I have to do. Just rest assured that the process was painless, I had no side-effects and I feel relieved knowing the safe-guards that are in place to check for diseases these days. On top of that, the blood I received was hemoglobin only, which causes it to be even further processed, which somehow makes me feel safer.

A special thanks to my unknown donor, without whom my hemoglobin would still be a 7.9 instead of a normal 22.0. Also, a special thanks to all of the nurses with whom I have been in contact since this ordeal began. I have always had the utmost respect for nurses since the births of my children, but to stay positive in a cancer ward and with people who need life-saving treatment is tremendous! Their happiness and positivity is contagious and you can't help but feel upbeat when you are around them. Thanks ladies.

Is Cancer the New Black? I Think Not!

Today I brought my laptop with me to chemo because I knew I didn't have many papers to grade and I'd be bored. While I was "in the chair" I had the idea to take a picture of myself "in the chair" so that when I talk about what it's like, you can have an idea of what I look like. Here is one of me and my lovely Herceptin drip:

Here is another of me, just so happy to be there:

On with the blog . . . So, the first step when sitting "in the chair" is getting blood drawn and checked so that the nurses can be sure your body can handle the chemo. The chemo doesn't even get mixed until the okay comes back from the lab. Today, my lab report showed that my hemoglobin was very low and that I am anemic (a common side-effect of chemo). Not low enough that they couldn't give me my treatment, but low enough that the doctor recommended that I get a blood transfusion. So, tomorrow at ten, I will take yet another unexpected day off of work and go to Central DuPage Hospital and spend six hours in a chair receiving some kind donor's blood. The idea is a little bizarre and scary, but I gotta do what I gotta do. The good news is that with healthy blood flowing through my veins I will be less anemic and have more energy. Maybe I won't spend this Saturday napping the day away.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, but it is only the 20th and I feel like calling it Cancer Ad Nauseum Month. Cancer is everywhere. It seems no matter what I am watching on t.v., every commercial break has a commercial for either the American Cancer Society or the Cancer Treatment Centers of America. Is it just me getting that feeling? Is it like when you buy a new car and you notice a bijillion cars just like the one you bought on the road or does anyone else feel inundated with cancer talk? I understand the message about early detection and all, but sheesh!

I think I am well into the angry stage. I'm done with the sad, why me? stage. Now I am getting ticked off with stories of people who have easier journies than me. For example, a very nice co-worker that I have known for years, stopped me in the hall the other day and asked how I was doing. He told me his wife was a survivor. She had either a lump or mastectomy (not sure) and then 5 radiation treatments and was done. I was a little miffed - especially since she was diagnosed Stage III like me. I am having 20 chemos more than her AND four times as many radiation treatments after my surgery. What the heck? I know everyone is different, but it is annoying to hear.

I think it was the same night that I came home to hear on the news that Giuliana Rancic, the golden girl of the E! Network, was also diagnosed with breast cancer. Momentarily, I felt a sisterhood, especially when I saw a short clip of her breaking down in an interview. I never saw the full story on the news, so I googled her the next morning. First of all, she is having lumpectomies only (though she has tumors in both breasts) and then only has to undergo radiation. No hair loss for Giuliana. The sisterhood has been broken. I no longer feel I can relate to her. Done and done.

I know I said in an earlier post that I do not wish this experience on anyone, even my worst enemy, and I don't, but I can't help but be jealous of these celebrities who get diagnosed and are given oodles of attention and never even loose an eyebrow, like Christina Applegate and Sonia Vegara. They will go on to give dramatic tales of their journies and everyone will ooh and aah and shed their tears, when really those celebs are only really experiencing 1/4 of what some of us are having to go through.

I hate to be bitter, but at the same time, I think I've earned it. I am staying positive for the most part, but once in a while, when you have no hair, you feel nauseated like a first trimester pregnant woman, and your heartbeat pounds in your head when you climb a flight of stairs, you just can't help it.

Ding Ding - Round 2

Today, I began the second round of chemotherapy. It is the first of 12 weekly treatments, so if you count my previous four treatments, I am one quarter of the way done. Woo hoo.

This round is less toxic and I no longer have the chemical that upset my sinuses. The only down side of the treatment itself was the length of time I was there - 9:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. Quite a stretch, though next time it shouldn't take so long. One drug I am being given is Taxol, which can cause bone achiness and tingly, numb extremities. I will also feel more tired with this drug. This is what I will be watching out for. Hopefully, the side-effects will take their time in coming, like the first round, if they show up at all. Let's all hope for the latter. The second treatment I'm getting is Herceptin which is side-effect free. After the 12 weeks of Taxol, I will continue to get Herceptin for a year. In that time my hair will grow back! Yay! Something to look forward to.

Sitting in the chair was fine, though I had been dreading it since my nausea following the last treatment. It was a good day. I dropped the boys off at school at 9 and went to my appt. Got comfy in the chair. Graded 1st hour's Beowulf essays and started on 7th hour. I took a break to eat lunch - which was free thanks to the hospital. Had a nice chicken salad sandwich and a Ceasar salad from Atlanta Bread Co. and watched some HGTV for a while. My nurse was the 4th Laura (the only one I hadn't had so far). There are four of them working there and every time I get one of the Lauras I can't help but think this is God's way of reminding me my sister Laura would be there with me if she could be. When treatment was over, I was able to make it just in time to pick up the boys after grabbing a McDonald's Sweet Tea.

So, obviously all of your prayers are working for me and I am so, so, so appreciative, but I want to ask you for one more. Yesterday, I found out that my mom had an accident at work and fell and broke her leg. It's a pretty bad break, in her femur, near her hip. She is having surgery this afternoon to add a metal rod and pins for stability. She will be in the hospital for a few days and then rehab of some sort. Being 1) far away and 2) unable to be there even if I wanted to go, makes me feel helpless, so asking you all for your prayers is the least I can do for her. She will appreciate a fast-lane ride to recovery as well. Thanks.

One day at a time.

Fran

Feeling better

Just a quick update to let you know that I am feeling FAR better in comparison to Monday and Tuesday this week. As a matter of fact, I felt well enough to go to a movie with a friend last night to see The Help, and today Beni and I took the boys to the church carnival for about an hour. Just running little errands makes me tired, but at least I am getting out there and doing them. Tomorrow, since we all have the day off, I am hoping to get my glasses repaired at LensCrafters and maybe get an eye exam for Frankie.

A new and unwelcome side effect that has made its way into my life - mouth sores. I've had them before here and there, but these are definitely chemo mouth sores that make eating, which can seem flavorless and dull, even less enjoyable. I looked up some remedies online and mouth wash is one that I liked the results of. Here is a job for my loyal fan base: What do you do to relieve mouth sores?

A Forwarded Story: A Great Message

I usually don't repost forwarded emails or cutsie stories but this one needed to be shared. I did a little research on snopes.com and at the Washington Post, which ran the story on April 8th. It is true. Check it out if you don't believe, but the message is a good one, regardless of whether you believe the story or not. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/04/AR2007040401721.html

THE SITUATION


In Washington , DC , at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, this man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After about 3 minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule.

About 4 minutes later: The violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.

At 6 minutes: A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at
his watch and started to walk again.

At 10 minutes: A 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly.
The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent - without exception - forced their children to
move on quickly.

At 45 minutes: The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.

After 1 hour: He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one
applauded. There was no recognition at all.

No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.

This is a true story.

Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.

This experiment raised several questions:

*In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?

*If so, do we stop to appreciate it?

*Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made . . . . . How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?

Enjoy life NOW… it has an expiration date!

I Really Hate You, Cancer!

The side-effects of chemo have been getting worse and worse. I know that by comparison, I haven't had it all that bad, but I am beginning to know what bad is. When I first started chemo, I was given a prescription for a drug to take at home when I felt nauseous. I have been taking it, but it seems to no longer work, or simply the act of swallowing the pill itself, sets off my stomach, causing me to vomit. I usually feel the worst on Monday and Tuesday following my Thursday treatments. This Monday and Tuesday I felt like I'd been hit by an 18-wheeler. I stayed home from work both days, feeling completely exhausted and nauseated.

All I could do during those days was sleep and lounge. I had no desire to eat and if/when I did, it ended up coming back up at least once a day. Just taking a shower was an ordeal from which I would have to sit down and rest when I was done. Seriously, it is the worst.

I am constantly accompanied by my trusty can of Canadra Dry Ginger Ale. She is my new best friend and sometimes the only thing I can stomach drinking. Water tastes too blah. I like the carbonation.

Last night I cried a little. I don't like having cancer, not that you are supposed to. The other night I kept tossing and turning, thinking about the meds I've taken and the ones I am yet to receive. It caused me to throw up bright and early that morning. I know I should be thankful that my first round of chemo is over and that the next round, though weekly, should be less intense (I'll believe that when I experience it) but I can't help but thinking, I still have 12 weeks of this madness to endure! Even though I know I have had my last dose, I can still feel the Citoxcin (sp) in my sinuses. I think this is a HUGE part of my nausea problem. I feel like I smell like cancer. I smell like chemicals. Beni says it's all in my head and maybe it is - literally -in my nose.

When I am having horrible days, I dread going back to the chemo chair. While I am there, it's fine, but I still can't help but feel sick about the idea of feeling sick. I am probably just one day away from feeling "normal" - I hope. But until that day comes, I feel a long way away from normal.

I know this is going to make you all feel bad and post really nice and supportive things, but I am not writing this for sympathy. Instead, go get a mammogram or a yearly physical. I do not wish this on my worst enemy (not that I have one). Cancer is endurable but it SUCKS! I really do hate you, cancer!