Side Effects and Other Things

Yesterday brought forth a new chapter in the annals of Cancer Schmantzer.  During the last few days, I have begun to feel like my old, pre-surgery self.  What has been especially good is that I have expanded my culinary delights to include some flavors beyond potatoes, rice, pasta, and other sick person fare to include items with flavor, and that has put me in a much better frame of mind.  

On top of that, the sun has been shining, and I have even started cleaning out some closets....not in my usual manic, crazy-go-nuts-get-it-all-done-in-one-day fashion, but rather in small spurts of sorting and tossing out clothing that I no longer wear.  There is much yet to send to Goodwill, but for now I am giving myself a Bozo button for color coding and arranging my shirts and t-shirts.

Because I have been feeling especially good for the past few days, visiting the education nurse for “chemo education” was more than a little surreal.  As we sat down in her office for an hour, she went through pages and pages of information about what will be the course of treatment and about what I need to expect.  Throughout the meeting, she answered my questions and concerns.  

As she was enumerating some of the scary possibilities,  it was hard not to think of all of the gauzy ads for miracle drugs that are constantly advertised on TV with the before-and-after scenes of life-changing improvements accompanied by numerous terrifying side effects. I am well aware that some of these terrifying things may happen, but most will probably not.  Interestingly enough, I felt surprisingly calm as the nurse explained how carefully my chemo team will be monitoring how I respond to each treatment. Rather than mixing the different flavors of chemo together in one magical elixir, the medicines will be delivered separately to check how well I tolerate each different form of chemo.  While all of this may seem quite scary, I always find that the more I know and understand, the better I can deal with whatever hand is dealt to me.

My first treatment will last for about 5 hours, and when I leave, I will be hooked up to a handy dandy fanny pack filled with more chemo to be infused for another 46 hours.  I will then repeat this regimen every two weeks for about 6 months.  Merry Christmas to me!

Of course, I know that my fatigue level will increase incrementally, but I also know how important it is for me to stay as active as possible, and I plan to do so. I asked the nurse if my goal of playing at least 10 minutes of tennis this summer was doable.  She said that it is, but I might want to adjust it to 5 minutes.

Our eyes were slightly glazed over at the possibility of what lies ahead. However, in the wise words of Donna:  We ain’t got no time for any stinking side effects.

Anyone for tennis?

Not So Brave

Ever since I started writing this blog, both friends and acquaintances have been telling me how brave and how courageous I am.  All I have to say is this--not so much.  

Words that I never thought would come out of my mouth are that I have been having difficulty getting my appetite back.  Apparently this is pretty typical after major surgery. Along with that, some friends seem to think that cancer is causing me lots of pain.  Interestingly enough, I have been asymptomatic and pretty much pain-free since the beginning of this nightmare. The closest thing to pain that I have experienced is that it is difficult to get comfortable.  I bounce from the chair to the sofa to the bed in an effort to find a position where I don't feel like I am channeling a wiggly first grader.  

Ever the good student and teacher pleaser, when one of my docs told me to make sure to get enough protein before I start my chemo, I decided that a very high protein drink would be a good solution. On Friday I drank some of this protein potion, and  I followed it up with more on Saturday.  Much to my dismay, the result was that I felt as though someone had blown up a beach ball and stuck it in my gut, and I was miserable.  Consequently, I only ate bland foods on Sunday in order to get my system settled down, and I started to feel much like myself again and like I was back on track.  However, on Monday a few bites of yogurt made me feel sick to my stomach.  

After two days of feeling as though I had been run over by a truck,  all of my bravado and derring-do went right out the window as did my self-confidence and my fighting spirit.  I thought to myself, “If I am scared to eat much of anything, how I am going to face the vicissitudes of chemo?   How I am going to face the lack of energy and the fatigue? How am I going to do all of the things that I want and need to do?”  
This new reality was a frightening slap in the face as I started questioning my own strength and my own resolve and my own willingness to keep fighting.  

The good news is that after yesterday's visit with my oncologist and with a dietitian, I was reassured that everything that I have been experiencing both physically and emotionally is pretty common, which was a huge relief. My chemo treatments are scheduled to begin in a few weeks, and  that will give me more time to heal from my surgery.  The better news is that if I feel up to it, I will be able to take my grandsons to see the Cubs.

All of this is to say that my first goal will be to build up my strength, endurance, and appetite enough so that I can accomplish that.  I will be setting smaller daily goals of increasing my time on the treadmill and walking a little farther to meet  Donna when she walks the dogs each day.  I plan to add more foods (gradually) to my diet to test out what I can tolerate.  

The bottom line is that this patient needs to learn to be patient and to adjust to my new normal.   Baby steps...it's all about baby steps.

Today's Not-Too-Deep Update

Throughout this whole cancer schmantzer odyssey, I have found that it is a fool’s errand to anticipate outcomes; consequently, I have learned to expect the unexpected. Yesterday on the drive to my appointment with my gynecological/oncologist, we joked that she might say, “We were just fooling. You are outta here.”

While that would have been nice, it wasn’t to be. My doc explained in detail with a lot of big cancery/medical words about what she had found during my extensive surgery. Apparently, my surgery was much more involved than I realized.

After we discussed the entire pathological report, I asked my doc some not so scientific but very practical questions. The good news is that I can start taking baths instead of showers, I can sleep on my stomach, and I can drive again--as long as I can brake quickly. Since I have been managing to drive the electric grocery store carts, I figured that driving my car would be a piece of cake.

Among other topics of importance to me, I asked the doc if I would still be able to take my grandsons to a Cubs’ game that we have been planning to attend in July. She said that she thought I would be able to do that but that I should have a back up plan just in case. When I asked her about my chances for survival, she said that while this stage 4 cancer is incurable, it is most definitely treatable. She said that most of her “chemo girls” begin to feel better and stronger once their chemo has begun. I can live with that.

Interestingly enough, she told me that my case had gone before the tumor board again—a record 3 times—and she asked all of the docs some hard questions about whether or not they should proceed with chemo, and they all agreed that this looks treatable. Right now it looks as though my chemo treatments will be different from the original plan. I gathered that my oncologist will probably want to start the chemo as soon as possible. As long as my oncological team thinks I am healed enough to begin, I just want to get on with this.

On the way home, Donna asked me how I was feeling both physically and emotionally. Physically, the site of the incision is still pretty tender and slightly uncomfortable. Emotionally is a different story. This whole magical mystery tour has been going on since last September, and at this point, I feel slightly exhausted and overwhelmed. Having said that, I try to make it a point not to feel sorry for myself or to play the victim, and while my current situation is not one I would have chosen, I will deal with it in the way that I have always dealt with whatever shit-storms come my way. I will put one foot in front of the other, I will set small goals each day, I will continue to appreciate the friends and family who have offered me so much love and support, and like Charlotte Emory (the main character in Anne Tyler’s Earthly Possessions), I will keep on truckin’.

Given how screwy and unpredictable my case has been, I fully expect my oncologists to be in the running for a Nobel prize for medicine, and since I have total confidence in them both as physicians and as caring human beings, I hope they start engraving that prize very soon.