still here...

It's Monday, September 10th. Our 7 year wedding anniversary and where am I? At Stanford Hospital...BUMMER.

I've cried a lot already today and it's only 9:45am. I'm sad that I'm not home to kiss my kids good morning for the 5th day in the row. I'm sad that I couldn't kiss my husband good morning on our anniversary. I'm am sad that I had to ask my sister to make Sofia's birthday cake because I'm afraid I won't be home to do it. I know I need to stay positive, but for as long as I've been here and for what I know is coming as far as testing today (spinal sample) I doubt I'll be able to leave on Wednesday, September 12th to celebrate my baby girl's 2nd birthday.

Damn this cancer crap. I just want to be home with my kids and JM...I don't feel like I'm asking for much.

Hospital, hospital. When can I go home, Doc?

I've been at Stanford hospital since Wednesday (9/5). I came here because of a fever. Once admitted, we found out that I am neutropenic; my neutraphil count was 200 (borderline is 1500), so I basically had nothing left in me to fight any germs/infections. The hospital put me in isolation until my counts came up to above 1000.

While in the ER, the ER nurses asked me if she can access my mediport and I say yes.  I ask her if she knows how to do it and she confidently says 'yes'. The next 5 minutes were hell. She goes into access and stabs me in the wrong location, then tries again and is shoving the needle down where it obviously wasn't supposed to go. Then she asks if she can try again and I stupidly said yes. She gets another kit ready and stabs me again; third times the charm? Nope third time was the worst. It was like she was taking a knife and stabbing me in the chest over and over again; my legs were kicking out from the pain. What I really wanted to do is bitch-slap the nurse who said she knew what she was doing and obviously did not. Lesson learned: do not have an ER nurse access the port. As a cancer patient, try to go the ITA (if it's open and not the ER); in my case ER was my only option.

There was no isolation rooms on the Onc/Hemo floor so I was kept in the ER for the first 24 hours+. When they were finally able to move me down to Onc/Hemo, my counts had come up to 800 which they felt was high enough for me to share a room with another cancer patient, Phyllis. She was a lovely older woman who had just relapsed from leukemia and was here getting her chemo treatments and leaving the next day.

My criteria for leaving are the following: no fever for 24 hours and neutraphil counts have to be 'normal'. I got the second one taken care of - my white blood cell counts are actually through the roof (probably due in large part to the Neulasta shot I got last Saturday that stimulates the bone marrow to made more while blood cells). The problem is this, even though my count is up the new white blood cells are immature like "2 year olds" per my Oncologist and they dont quiet know what they're doing. These cells need to mature and start working the way they're meant to work.

In general, I feel good. My appetite is back for the most part. But I am beyond frustrated as to why they can't figure out why I keep spiking 100-102+ fevers. They've run every test imagineable and nothing is coming back positive, but I still spike a fever at least twice a day. The last time I had a fever today was 1PM, so I'm praying and praying that I don't a fever between now and 1PM tomorrow and I should get the green light to go home. Usually my second fever strikes between 8pm and 10pm, but so far so good.

Every time the nurse comes in for vitals check and says any number over 37.8 I start to cry. This has been such an emotional roller coaster. I haven't seen my kids since Wednesdays (they think I'm at a spa getting massages and eating fancy meals) and both of our families have rallied to support us with the kids, meals, and everything else. I cannot be more thankful for all the support. I love you all.

So...wish me luck. No fever for the next 12 hours and I can go home and see my kids when they come home from a weekend away with their cousins and aunt and uncle in Pacific Grove. :)

Vanity...Hang Over...

I know I should be grateful and thankful and I am, don't get me wrong, but I am starting to feel like a hermit. I don't really ever want to go anywhere aside from the necessary runs to the grocery store. I know it shouldn't matter what I look like, but it does. The hair on my head is almost gone but not quite...I sort of look like a newborn baby bird...with fuzzies on my head.  My eyebrows and eyelashes are thinning and my skin looks sallow and blotchy. All of these things - I am thankful that I even have the energy to worry about, but all things I wish I didn't have to worry about.

Anabelle's Back to School night was on Monday. I met her teachers and fellow parents and I just didn't feel like myself. I felt uncomfortable in my own skin and didn't want to talk to anyone. Frankly I didn't even want to go, but what kind of parent would I be if I didn't go to my daughter's BSN? It's not like I would have had a good excuse...my excuse would have been, I don't feel pretty. Not good enough...so I went. I put on a little makeup, (something I haven't done in months) a pretty scarf, (my wig is so hot that I couldn't get myself to wear it) my big girls pants and a smile and went. 

I know that no one there was judging me or making me feel uncomfortable except for myself, but still when you see women dressed nicely with their hair done and face looking bright and healthy it's hard not to feel jealous. I know it's been effecting Anabelle lately as well. She told me the other day, "Mom, you look pretty now, but I like you better with longer hair. It's going to start growing back around Christmas, right?"

I wish that I was strong enough to not feel vain while going through cancer treatment, but I'm not. I wish I didn't care about how I look right now, but I do. If I become a hermit for the next 3 months, then you all know why.

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Tuesday was my first day of the new treatment: FEC. I got all three drugs and a cocktail of anti-nausea meds. And a major highlight of the day, (or two) I got a window seat and they got brand new, comfy, electric lounge chairs in the Infusion Center - seriously you may think this is a joke, but after sitting in the same chair for 4+ hours it's good to be able to recline all the way and have your feet stretched out all the way, and not have a sore butt at the end of it all. 

So the new drugs are harder, but not as bad as I thought they were going to be. I've been feeling queasy and nauseous since Tuesday, but nothing that I can't work through. I have lots of anti-nausea meds that I'm taking so that seems to help me a lot...and drinking lots of water. It's like I'm sea-sick or hung over all the time now...a shitty feeling for sure, but nothing that I should be complaining about. I feel like I have it easy compared to so many others, so I am grateful that I seem to be taking the new drugs decently. 

I had my second dose on Friday (only the 5FU) and a immunity booster shot of Neulasta on Saturday morning.  Week one out of the 4 infusion weeks is out of the way.  I get two weeks off and then I am back on.  November 2nd is my last day of chemo.  I'm excited for this to be done soon.

Halfway there

I'm having a mini celebration for myself today. Week 12 of chemo, my halfway point is done: August 21, 2012. 50% done, in the bag, and behind me. Wooo-weee!!

Taxol, no offense but I hope to never ever have to see you again. Ever. Thank you for doing your job, but I don't want to ever see my or anyone I know's name next to your's.

Taking its toll

Alright, chemo you win. After 11 weeks of Taxol my body is finally exhibiting some major side effects. I know I should be thankful that it took this long (and I only have one treatment left of Taxol, then onto FEC) but man...this sucks. I feel like an 80-year old grandma with arthritis. My knees and my lower back hurt so much that I feel like I can't walk upright and definitely cannot pick up Sofia. I just got off the phone with the doctor and she said to swim and take lots of Advil to ease the inflammation; got it, Doc!! Except that I feel like shit and I don't want to do anything but lay down and my body hurts too much to lay down. Power through, power through...I keep telling myself this as my body aches and begs me to stop pumping it full of drugs.

My sweet darling kids

I had my 9th treatment today and learned that because I skipped my 4th treatment I have to make it up on the back-end. No big deal though and still doesn't change my November 2nd date.

Yesterday Anabelle and I were hanging out in our bed and she snuggled up close to me and said, "I'm sorry you have to have chemo, mom. But your hair will start growing back for Christmas, right?"

Even Sofia this afternoon saw my bandage over my port and pulled down my shirt and asked, "Mommy, ouchy? Me ouchy too," pointing to her chest and then gave me a hug.

It breaks my heart that the girls even have to think and process this illness but also completely warms and makes me feel so incredibly loved.

2 more to go...then 4 more...

Yesterday was my 8th treatment (9th week). I have 2 more treatments to go on this cycle, then it's onto FEC...which is just 4 treatments over the course of 3 months. I saw my Oncologist yesterday who told me she doesn't need to see me until I start the FEC cycle because I'm doing so well; yay me! My lymph-nodes are so small that on a 'healthy' person it wouldn't be anything suspicious and my tumor is almost impalpable. My response to the chemo says a lot for my long-term prognosis, which is great news.

I've marked November 2, 2012 as my LAST DAY OF CHEMO, and am counting down the weeks. We are meeting with the Radiation Oncologist next Monday about my radiation plan after chemo and then we'll meet with the Plastic Surgeon and the Breast Oncologist Surgeon again to map out my surgical plan. I feel like I'm finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel even though I still have a long road ahead.