I'm okay! It was a long scary day, but still got a few one-liners in with the docs - I made Dr. Beatty show me his hands, to be sure they weren't shaking before we went into the OR! I crack myself up! Anyway, lots of waiting around, putting on a lovely hospital ensemble and all of that before I got anywhere near the OR. Brad was with me the whole time until I shuffled into super sterile land. I didn't get emotional until I laid on the table in there. It's so cold and so bright, lots of nurses bustling around. Then the anesthesiologist started to do his magic, and the last thing I remember is asking them if they watch "Grey's Anatomy," and I never got an answer.
It was about a 45 minute procedure. When I came around they transferred me to a different gurney, (just like Grey's - they counted one, two three) and wheeled me into another area where I got ice chips which were a God send since I hadn't had anything to eat or drink since Thursday night. By now it was 2 p.m. Then I went to the official post-op, and finally up to the C-Pod where Brad could join me. I had crackers, jello and coffee and it seemed like the best thing on earth. Eventually they got all the IV crap out of me, and I could see the dressing over the port with the tubing hanging out (which isn't there always, but they kept it on since I was going over to the cancer center for chemo.)
Once out of the lovely hospital attire, we went immediately to the cancer center for my chemo. So, it turns out that the study randomizes you to decide if you're getting the new drugs or not, and I'm not! I'm getting the standard treatment, which is Taxil and Herceptin every week for 12 weeks,then they switch me to A/C for the next 12 weeks, every third week. I'm not upset, but they have to compare the existing system to folks on the new drug to see if there's any difference. I'm still in the study, and they will be watching me like a hawk. They'll do an MRI in three weeks to see if anything is happening, i.e. if the tumor has shrunk, as well as another biopsy, which I hate. But these are not normally done, so I'm still getting rock star treatment.
Once in the chemo chair - in a nice private room with TV, etc. they brought me a complimentary sack lunch with a nice veggie sandwich, an apple and a cookie. I wolfed it. This first chemo took forever. First they spend a half hour putting in pre-treatment drugs - anti nausea, benadryl in case of an allergic reaction, (that made me really woozy - it's not like just taking the pill when it goes right in you) and two others I forgot, with frequent saline flushes. Then came the Taxil, which went in very slowly (over an hour). I got a slight wave of nausea, but it passed quickly. When Dr. Kaplan came I told him about that, so he prescribed an anti-nausea medicine but I haven't filled it yet, and I feel fine this morning, just a little sore at the incision spot, but I have pain killers for that.
But Kaplan and Barry (my study group/nurse oncologist guy, who I adore) said I was doing really well. If I were going to react to the Taxil, it would have happened in the first 15 minutes. Oh! Dr. Kaplan said not to go and shave my head, because often times you don't lose your hair until I get to the A/C! But I'm still going to get the wig and some head covers to have on standby. Meantime Brad went out a while to go home and let Abbey out to pee and feed her, and get himself some food as it was now 7-ish. He brought me back a cup of chicken noodle soup, which was great.
The Herceptin infusion was a piece of cake. About an hour. There are very few, if any, side effects with Herceptin. After a final saline flush, and a change on my dressing, we were out of there at 9 p.m. Long, long, day. I was in bed an hour later and slept pretty good. I took a pain killer when I got up, but I really feel pretty darn good this morning. A little shaky.
So, it has begun. Cancer killing is underway! Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers. I love you all.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
The flu, wig shopping, etc.
My son came to visit me the weekend before last. It was a wonderful visit, but he didn't feel well when he arrived, and by the time he left, he was all-out sick with the flu. I didn't want him to drive home in that condition, but he insisted he had to get home to his own bed. I rarely get the "crud," no, I just get something silly like cancer, but by last Wednesday I thought I was dying. God, what an awful bug. I was laid up for two days; I think it would have been worse had I not had a flu shot, because Taylor was sick much longer.
I was pretty freaked out by the whole thing, because the plan is still moving forward to have my port-catheter put in Friday morning, followed by my first "blast" of chemo. If you're sick, they won't start, and I am ready to get the show on the road. As of today it sounds like my sweetie has it now. Poor guy.
I see the medical oncologist, Dr. Kaplan tomorrow, and they will take some blood and make sure I'm okay to go. The port-cath deal is surgery, so they will have to knock me out.
In the meantime, I looked at wigs last weekend, and had them order one I liked in a color closer to my own. If I don't like it, I'm not obligated, which is very cool. The ladies at this place, Hair Options, are really nice and work with great deal of cancer patients. It's sort of a bob, like I used to wear my hair, only a little longer. Hey, I may as well have some fun with this!
I'm more than a little freaked out about the port. I know they said it wouldn't show - my concern is just that I'll have this foreign object in my body. I don't know why, but it totally grosses me out. I can't even imagine having, say, a pacemaker. OH! Speaking of hearts, mine is super strong. I had a mugascan which checks your heart to make sure it can handle the chemo, and they said I have the heart of an athlete!
One more thing....I went to a "get started" meeting last night about "The Three Day," a huge fundraiser for the Susan G. Komen Foundation. I didn't realize the scope of the event. It's huge! In addition to walking 10 miles each day over three days, you have to raise at least $2,300. It looks like a lot of fun, but I've decided to do it next year as a survivor, as I just don't think I can handle the additional stress right now of fund raising on top of the job and treatment. I know some women were in the same boat, but were going for it anyway. But I know my limits, and being the perfectionist that I am I'll freak if I don't make the goal. So, I'll wait.
I was pretty freaked out by the whole thing, because the plan is still moving forward to have my port-catheter put in Friday morning, followed by my first "blast" of chemo. If you're sick, they won't start, and I am ready to get the show on the road. As of today it sounds like my sweetie has it now. Poor guy.
I see the medical oncologist, Dr. Kaplan tomorrow, and they will take some blood and make sure I'm okay to go. The port-cath deal is surgery, so they will have to knock me out.
In the meantime, I looked at wigs last weekend, and had them order one I liked in a color closer to my own. If I don't like it, I'm not obligated, which is very cool. The ladies at this place, Hair Options, are really nice and work with great deal of cancer patients. It's sort of a bob, like I used to wear my hair, only a little longer. Hey, I may as well have some fun with this!
I'm more than a little freaked out about the port. I know they said it wouldn't show - my concern is just that I'll have this foreign object in my body. I don't know why, but it totally grosses me out. I can't even imagine having, say, a pacemaker. OH! Speaking of hearts, mine is super strong. I had a mugascan which checks your heart to make sure it can handle the chemo, and they said I have the heart of an athlete!
One more thing....I went to a "get started" meeting last night about "The Three Day," a huge fundraiser for the Susan G. Komen Foundation. I didn't realize the scope of the event. It's huge! In addition to walking 10 miles each day over three days, you have to raise at least $2,300. It looks like a lot of fun, but I've decided to do it next year as a survivor, as I just don't think I can handle the additional stress right now of fund raising on top of the job and treatment. I know some women were in the same boat, but were going for it anyway. But I know my limits, and being the perfectionist that I am I'll freak if I don't make the goal. So, I'll wait.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Cancer is a full time job
Gads, what a week. Monday I met with Dr. Beatty, officially now, my surgical oncologist. He's fabulous. I've decided to go forward with neoadjuvant therapy, which means, the chemotherapy will come first, before any surgery. I've also decided to participate in the I-Spy-2 protocol, also called a trial, or clinical study. I've always felt I haven't done enough for mankind, or in this case womankind, so if I can help find a cure by being a guinea pig, why not? What it means to me also, is in addition to the standard care, which is top-drawer at Swedish, I get extra attention because I'm involved in the trial. And get this - I just found this out yesterday from Barry (my new best friend - he's Dr. Kaplan's nurse oncologist and one of the two main coordinators for I-Spy-2 in Seattle) - I'm the first one in Seattle to be chosen for the study! So, I'm sort of a rock star! The reason is because 1.) a have a very large tumor that hasn't spread to other parts of my body, which seemingly came out of nowhere, and 2.) my markers (HER2neu positive, and ER, PR positive) are exactly what they are looking for in a candidate for the study. So, they're all over me like white on rice!
Tuesday was awful. Eight hours with doctors and/or techs of some sort. The morning started out at 7:30 - with no coffee or food - for the dreaded PET scan. Once again I had to drink gurp. I hate that shit so bad. Gives you gas and makes you poop like a goose all day. The PET is fascinating however. The machine reads every freaking cell in your body. Amazing. Everything is fine, no cancer anywhere else. From the PET I met with Dr. Kaplan, my medical oncologist, the one I love so much (he's got this whole Marcus Welby M.D. thing going on - he is so sweet, and highly respected - again, rock star). We talked about I-Spy, I met Barry, all good. Then I had to go back to First Hill Diagnostics for another ultrasound, this time on my right breast, just to be sure there was absolutely nothing there. Well, there's not, but the breast MRI did find another tiny spot in my left breast, the one with the big tumor. This one is the size of a pea, seriously. So, this absolutely wonderful Dr. Porter did a biopsy on that one. He's internationally known for breast imaging - I'm not kidding. He's another rock star! I watched on the ultrasound screen as he did it - kind of creepy, but again fascinating, because he had to be really precise to get a sample of that dude, and he got it perfectly. It was painless until he had to put a clip in, to mark where they took the sample, and that made me cry a little bit.
So, yesterday I saw Barry and Dr. Kaplan again, for bloodwork and yet another biopsy for the I-Spy trial. The trial pays for those, because they are in addition to standard care. This time it was a doctor Parikh who took the samples - five all told, from the big tumor - and he was great, too. Didn't hardly feel a thing. However, from two biopsy's in two days, old lefty looks like it's been in a bar fight!!
Today and tomorrow I'm off the hook, thank God. I need to get some work done! And, my little darling, Taylor, is coming to see me this weekend! He will get to meet Brad, which should be interesting.
Monday, I go back to First Hill Diagnostics for another breast MRI to document the clips, then I have a Mugascan, which will check my heart thoroughly to be sure I'm ready for chemo, then a pre-op regarding insertion of a port for the chemo. It will be under my skin in my upper chest, and they say no one will even know it's there. Beatty will put that in. Then, if all goes as planned chemo starts March 25. Am I scared? Yes, but I want to kill this son-of-a-bitch.
My chemo will be once a week for 12 weeks. After that it moves to every 3 weeks for another 12 weeks. Along the way, there will be numerous tests to see how I'm doing. After chemo, assuming this works and the big tumor shrinks, Dr. Beatty will pluck it out, then I'll have to undergo radiation to kill any leftover cancer cells.
I will lose my hair. It's a given. It pisses me off because it looks so pretty now, but I found out yesterday my insurance covers 70 percent of a wig, because it's considered a prosthetic! Yay! One nurse sort of pissed me off yesterday. I heard that you're not supposed to cut your nails during chemo. Chemo compromises your immune system, so you have to be really careful not to cut yourself or be near sick people. So, I asked her, and she said that wasn't true. So, I asked her if it was okay then to keep getting my nails done while in chemo, and she was real snippy with me, went and asked Dr. Kaplan, and came back and said no. I explained to her that my nails are not acrylic, which I know is toxic, they are gel. She dismissed the conversation as unimportant, and I said, look, I'm going to lose my hair, can't I at least have my nails done? She started blabbing again and I just walked away. Christina, my lovely nail tech, is not going to cut me. She hasn't yet. And I saw her last night, and she does plenty of nails on cancer patients. So fuck the bitchy nurse with dishwater blonde hair and ugly nails! I'm a girl, and would like to maintain some dignity throughout this ordeal!
Tuesday was awful. Eight hours with doctors and/or techs of some sort. The morning started out at 7:30 - with no coffee or food - for the dreaded PET scan. Once again I had to drink gurp. I hate that shit so bad. Gives you gas and makes you poop like a goose all day. The PET is fascinating however. The machine reads every freaking cell in your body. Amazing. Everything is fine, no cancer anywhere else. From the PET I met with Dr. Kaplan, my medical oncologist, the one I love so much (he's got this whole Marcus Welby M.D. thing going on - he is so sweet, and highly respected - again, rock star). We talked about I-Spy, I met Barry, all good. Then I had to go back to First Hill Diagnostics for another ultrasound, this time on my right breast, just to be sure there was absolutely nothing there. Well, there's not, but the breast MRI did find another tiny spot in my left breast, the one with the big tumor. This one is the size of a pea, seriously. So, this absolutely wonderful Dr. Porter did a biopsy on that one. He's internationally known for breast imaging - I'm not kidding. He's another rock star! I watched on the ultrasound screen as he did it - kind of creepy, but again fascinating, because he had to be really precise to get a sample of that dude, and he got it perfectly. It was painless until he had to put a clip in, to mark where they took the sample, and that made me cry a little bit.
So, yesterday I saw Barry and Dr. Kaplan again, for bloodwork and yet another biopsy for the I-Spy trial. The trial pays for those, because they are in addition to standard care. This time it was a doctor Parikh who took the samples - five all told, from the big tumor - and he was great, too. Didn't hardly feel a thing. However, from two biopsy's in two days, old lefty looks like it's been in a bar fight!!
Today and tomorrow I'm off the hook, thank God. I need to get some work done! And, my little darling, Taylor, is coming to see me this weekend! He will get to meet Brad, which should be interesting.
Monday, I go back to First Hill Diagnostics for another breast MRI to document the clips, then I have a Mugascan, which will check my heart thoroughly to be sure I'm ready for chemo, then a pre-op regarding insertion of a port for the chemo. It will be under my skin in my upper chest, and they say no one will even know it's there. Beatty will put that in. Then, if all goes as planned chemo starts March 25. Am I scared? Yes, but I want to kill this son-of-a-bitch.
My chemo will be once a week for 12 weeks. After that it moves to every 3 weeks for another 12 weeks. Along the way, there will be numerous tests to see how I'm doing. After chemo, assuming this works and the big tumor shrinks, Dr. Beatty will pluck it out, then I'll have to undergo radiation to kill any leftover cancer cells.
I will lose my hair. It's a given. It pisses me off because it looks so pretty now, but I found out yesterday my insurance covers 70 percent of a wig, because it's considered a prosthetic! Yay! One nurse sort of pissed me off yesterday. I heard that you're not supposed to cut your nails during chemo. Chemo compromises your immune system, so you have to be really careful not to cut yourself or be near sick people. So, I asked her, and she said that wasn't true. So, I asked her if it was okay then to keep getting my nails done while in chemo, and she was real snippy with me, went and asked Dr. Kaplan, and came back and said no. I explained to her that my nails are not acrylic, which I know is toxic, they are gel. She dismissed the conversation as unimportant, and I said, look, I'm going to lose my hair, can't I at least have my nails done? She started blabbing again and I just walked away. Christina, my lovely nail tech, is not going to cut me. She hasn't yet. And I saw her last night, and she does plenty of nails on cancer patients. So fuck the bitchy nurse with dishwater blonde hair and ugly nails! I'm a girl, and would like to maintain some dignity throughout this ordeal!
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Meeting with the doc tomorrow
This past week I had four MRIs; brain, chest, breast and cervical spine. MRIs are no big deal, just noisy, and I suppose if you were claustrophobic it would be awful. Tomorrow I meet with the surgical oncologist for the second time, to go over all of these many tests I've undertaken. Then I believe we will be able to chart a course of action. I hope so. I'm so sick of waiting. I just want to get going on this, to get rid of the cancer.
I am concerned that they want to do yet another ultrasound and perhaps another biopsy on Tuesday. I have to tell myself it's just to be cautious, but nonetheless it freaks me out.
My strongest emotion right now is fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of treatment, fear of getting rid of it and then having it come back. These are all valid fears they tell me in the books I've been reading.
I also fear being a bald, tired old freak. God knows I try to take care of myself. I'll follow up here once I know the plan.
I am concerned that they want to do yet another ultrasound and perhaps another biopsy on Tuesday. I have to tell myself it's just to be cautious, but nonetheless it freaks me out.
My strongest emotion right now is fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of treatment, fear of getting rid of it and then having it come back. These are all valid fears they tell me in the books I've been reading.
I also fear being a bald, tired old freak. God knows I try to take care of myself. I'll follow up here once I know the plan.
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