Today marks one week since my first infusion. What an awfully uneventful week. Here's a recap of last week:
I slept...a lot. I felt sick to my stomach. My bones hurt. I had tingling in my hands and feet. It felt like I was sucking on a copper penny. My throat hurt. My mouth felt dry constantly. I drank a lot of fluids and still felt dehydrated. The lymph nodes in my neck swelled. I ran a low grade fever. I had a constant headache. I was depressed.
So that's my first week in a nutshell. Stupidly, I went to work on Monday and Tuesday and struggled through it. On Wednesday, a survivor friend of mine gave me some very good advice. She told me, "Go home. This is the only time in your life that its all about you and you need to get well". So I did. I went home Tuesday and didn't go back to work the rest of the week. It was the best thing I could have done because I wasn't sleeping and felt constantly weepy and weak. I've never been one to really take care of myself when I'm sick. I'm the idiot who goes into work when I'm sick and I power through it on coffee and adrenalyn.
But I realized on Tuesday, as I was sitting at my desk shaking from all the drugs in my system and crying from sheer exhaustion, that it is all about my health. I can't get better if I don't let myself get better. And no one is going to say "Gee Mary, I can't believe you took off from work because you have a cold", because its not a cold. Its damn cancer and its freakin' chemotherapy. They are taking me to hell and back to make me better. And I just need to be good to my body until the taking me to hell part is overwith.
So my new mantra is "its all about my well being". When I'm tired, I'll rest, when I am hungry, I'll eat. And when I need to veg out in front of the TV because my hands and bones hurt, well, I'm going to do it. And I'm not going to worry about what's not getting done in the office.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Chemo Session #1 Update
Its day #3 since my first chemo session. I've been uber productive! I've slept, slept, slept and slept some more. I didn't go grocery shopping, clean, do laundry or vacuum. My days consisted of getting up, taking medication, eating something light and then laying back down again. Yesterday was a whopper - I think I slept 14 hours in a row.
The shot of Nuelasta I received Saturday is starting to kick in too. Bone pain....ahhh, bone pain. Pain I've never really felt before since I've never broken a bone or had any bone issues. Its in my back, pelvis and head...all the great places where pain really throws you for a loop.
And I've got the typical nausea and queezy feelings as well. If you've never had chemo (and I pray for anyone reading this, you never experience it), its like having the worst cruise ship norovirus ever plus having the worst morning sickness and weakness during your first trimester of pregnancy ever.
Well, let's see if I can muster the strength for a shower and a few hours at work today. I have a feeling I may last until 10:00 am and then need a nap.
The shot of Nuelasta I received Saturday is starting to kick in too. Bone pain....ahhh, bone pain. Pain I've never really felt before since I've never broken a bone or had any bone issues. Its in my back, pelvis and head...all the great places where pain really throws you for a loop.
And I've got the typical nausea and queezy feelings as well. If you've never had chemo (and I pray for anyone reading this, you never experience it), its like having the worst cruise ship norovirus ever plus having the worst morning sickness and weakness during your first trimester of pregnancy ever.
Well, let's see if I can muster the strength for a shower and a few hours at work today. I have a feeling I may last until 10:00 am and then need a nap.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Session #1
June 18, 2010 is a date that will live in infamy. Well, not really. Maybe just for me. I had my first session of chemotherapy yesterday. There may be a lot of typos and I may not sound like myself right now and that's because I'm super hyped up on drugs. So I apoligize. I will probably need to edit this entry at some point.
I really can't even explain how I feel right now, mentally and physically. But I will try. My body feels like I have the worst flu ever. Body aches, exhaustion, sever nausea, headache, fuzzy thoughts, incoherence in some thoughts. My mind feels depressed because its Saturday and I have to do laundry, clean the house, play with Liam, and I can't. I don't have the energy to anything. So its like the worst flu, worst morning sickness, worst drugged out feeling ever. And I don't know when it will end.
The infusion session itself went great, better than expected. My nurse, Gail, was lovely and had a lot of great advice for me on things like avoiding mouth sores, calming my stomach and hair loss. Accessing the port was a snap and felt like the ear piecing gun at the mall (except in the ol' chest). I only had two very small side effects. I ended up with a headache from Adriamicyn and chest pain from the Cytoxen. The Taxotere, the drug everyone fears, gave me no strange site effects. And the Adriamicyn made me pee red too. Weird. We watched World Cup Soccer, three episodes of the first season of 24 and I made some jewlery. Then all of a sudden it was 4:00, we'd been there six and a half hours and it was time to pick up Liam!
There were a few chemo patients my age there as well: two women in their 30's and a man in his 30's as well. All were friendly, but we didn't really talk. That was fine with me, I was a little too nervous to be cheery and talkative. A lot of people slept through their infusions too.
Sorry for the short post, but I have to go back to the doctor's office for my Nuelasta shot. I'll keep you all updated on my progress.
I really can't even explain how I feel right now, mentally and physically. But I will try. My body feels like I have the worst flu ever. Body aches, exhaustion, sever nausea, headache, fuzzy thoughts, incoherence in some thoughts. My mind feels depressed because its Saturday and I have to do laundry, clean the house, play with Liam, and I can't. I don't have the energy to anything. So its like the worst flu, worst morning sickness, worst drugged out feeling ever. And I don't know when it will end.
The infusion session itself went great, better than expected. My nurse, Gail, was lovely and had a lot of great advice for me on things like avoiding mouth sores, calming my stomach and hair loss. Accessing the port was a snap and felt like the ear piecing gun at the mall (except in the ol' chest). I only had two very small side effects. I ended up with a headache from Adriamicyn and chest pain from the Cytoxen. The Taxotere, the drug everyone fears, gave me no strange site effects. And the Adriamicyn made me pee red too. Weird. We watched World Cup Soccer, three episodes of the first season of 24 and I made some jewlery. Then all of a sudden it was 4:00, we'd been there six and a half hours and it was time to pick up Liam!
There were a few chemo patients my age there as well: two women in their 30's and a man in his 30's as well. All were friendly, but we didn't really talk. That was fine with me, I was a little too nervous to be cheery and talkative. A lot of people slept through their infusions too.
Sorry for the short post, but I have to go back to the doctor's office for my Nuelasta shot. I'll keep you all updated on my progress.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
With the flip of a three headed coin...
I usually don't write two posts in one day, but its been a whirlwind 24 hours. Get a drink and sit back, this is going to be a long update.
Today, I went to chemo orientation. It was two hours of chemo drug side effects, managing depression, exercising, eating healthy, blah blah blah. Pretty much everything that you can get from cancer.org or komen.org. I did get a few nuggets of information (like, when Liam gets his 12 month shots, I can be suspectible to getting whatever live bacteria are in the vaccine and that a fever over 100.5 is SERIOUS for chemotherapy patients). All and all, the information was helpful and I was able to get a few more website that I can troll late at night when I'm looking for support or insight.
Chemo orientation had 10 other 'students' in it. These 'students' were of varying ages, races and were both men and women. There were no ice breakers, no conversation, just straight to business. The nurse handed out a packet of information with every contact number, drug name and coping mechanism known to man. No one talked, everyone just read the information provided. I did notice a woman who was about 3 - 5 years older than I am, wearing a bright pink shirt (like the kind of pink they use for the Susan G. Komen race shirts). My first thought was "Oh, one of my kind! Another young breast cancer patient!". I ran through a five second scenario of us having treatments on the same day at the infusion center and becoming great friends because this awful diagnosis. I was quickly brought back to reality - she was there with her mother, who was going through some form of cancer. Oh well.
So I was the youngest person there, by about 20 years. Figures.
We were also given a tour of the infusion suite. The room was packed with chemo patients, hooked up to IV drips. The youngest person in there was a 40-something year old woman and the average age was probably about 65 years old. What struck me about the room was it was loud. Everyone was talking and the TV was on! It was like a freakin' party! I mean, people weren't smiling or anything like that, but it was loud like a party. There were some people reading and watching DVDs on their laptops and others who kept to themselves. But for the most part, people were talking to each other. And almost everyone there had someone with them - a spouse, partner or friend. The atmosphere was definitely not what I invisioned...it wasn't depressing, but it wasn't happy. It was just different.
When the orientation was over, I met with the clinical trial coordinator for the practice. As you have probably read in previous posts, I am trying to get into a clinical trial for my chemotherapy treatments. Before they could randomize me for the study, I had to pass a series of tests (chest x-ray, MUGA, blood work etc). The coordinator pulled me aside to tell me that there was an issue with my pregnancy test and asked if I could be pregnant.
WHAT?! You've got to be kidding!!
I assured him I was not pregnant and that the faulty result was probably due to the fertility drugs I pumped myself full of the previous two weeks. I also explained that I was given a pregnancy test yesterday for my mediport surgery and that came back negative. But of all things for me to fail....
So after he verified my negative pregnancy test yesterday at the hospital, he was able to randomize me in the computer and I was given my chemo therapy protocol. I had a 1 in 3 chance of getting the regiment I wanted. Unfortunately, the flip of the coin was not in my favor. The regiment I was assigned is a pretty typical one that many women with breast cancer are given. In the chemo 'world' it is called TAC. It stands for the three drugs they will be using: Taxotere, Adriamycin and Cytoxan. A and C are given together as a cocktail (dose dense), T is given immediately following, in a slow drip form b/c of side effects. If you are interested in reading about it, go to this website:
http://www.healthcentral.com/breast-cancer/c/78/10887/ac-act-tac/
The day after each chemo infusion, I get a shot of Neulasta:
http://www.drugs.com/neulasta.html
Neulasta is used to stimulate bone marrow and mitigate the drop in white blood cell counts. Before each chemo treatment, I will also be given EMLA to numb the port site and benedryl for any allergic reactions I may have to the chemo drugs.
I will have an infusion of TAC every 3 weeks, for a total of 6 treatments. Each treatment takes 4 - 5 hours. My first treatment will take place Friday, June 8th. My last treatment will take place on October 1st.
So the big "C" day is Friday. Can't say I'm looking forward to it, but I am looking forward to getting this overwith and this cancer journey behind me!
Today, I went to chemo orientation. It was two hours of chemo drug side effects, managing depression, exercising, eating healthy, blah blah blah. Pretty much everything that you can get from cancer.org or komen.org. I did get a few nuggets of information (like, when Liam gets his 12 month shots, I can be suspectible to getting whatever live bacteria are in the vaccine and that a fever over 100.5 is SERIOUS for chemotherapy patients). All and all, the information was helpful and I was able to get a few more website that I can troll late at night when I'm looking for support or insight.
Chemo orientation had 10 other 'students' in it. These 'students' were of varying ages, races and were both men and women. There were no ice breakers, no conversation, just straight to business. The nurse handed out a packet of information with every contact number, drug name and coping mechanism known to man. No one talked, everyone just read the information provided. I did notice a woman who was about 3 - 5 years older than I am, wearing a bright pink shirt (like the kind of pink they use for the Susan G. Komen race shirts). My first thought was "Oh, one of my kind! Another young breast cancer patient!". I ran through a five second scenario of us having treatments on the same day at the infusion center and becoming great friends because this awful diagnosis. I was quickly brought back to reality - she was there with her mother, who was going through some form of cancer. Oh well.
So I was the youngest person there, by about 20 years. Figures.
We were also given a tour of the infusion suite. The room was packed with chemo patients, hooked up to IV drips. The youngest person in there was a 40-something year old woman and the average age was probably about 65 years old. What struck me about the room was it was loud. Everyone was talking and the TV was on! It was like a freakin' party! I mean, people weren't smiling or anything like that, but it was loud like a party. There were some people reading and watching DVDs on their laptops and others who kept to themselves. But for the most part, people were talking to each other. And almost everyone there had someone with them - a spouse, partner or friend. The atmosphere was definitely not what I invisioned...it wasn't depressing, but it wasn't happy. It was just different.
When the orientation was over, I met with the clinical trial coordinator for the practice. As you have probably read in previous posts, I am trying to get into a clinical trial for my chemotherapy treatments. Before they could randomize me for the study, I had to pass a series of tests (chest x-ray, MUGA, blood work etc). The coordinator pulled me aside to tell me that there was an issue with my pregnancy test and asked if I could be pregnant.
WHAT?! You've got to be kidding!!
I assured him I was not pregnant and that the faulty result was probably due to the fertility drugs I pumped myself full of the previous two weeks. I also explained that I was given a pregnancy test yesterday for my mediport surgery and that came back negative. But of all things for me to fail....
So after he verified my negative pregnancy test yesterday at the hospital, he was able to randomize me in the computer and I was given my chemo therapy protocol. I had a 1 in 3 chance of getting the regiment I wanted. Unfortunately, the flip of the coin was not in my favor. The regiment I was assigned is a pretty typical one that many women with breast cancer are given. In the chemo 'world' it is called TAC. It stands for the three drugs they will be using: Taxotere, Adriamycin and Cytoxan. A and C are given together as a cocktail (dose dense), T is given immediately following, in a slow drip form b/c of side effects. If you are interested in reading about it, go to this website:
http://www.healthcentral.com/breast-cancer/c/78/10887/ac-act-tac/
The day after each chemo infusion, I get a shot of Neulasta:
http://www.drugs.com/neulasta.html
Neulasta is used to stimulate bone marrow and mitigate the drop in white blood cell counts. Before each chemo treatment, I will also be given EMLA to numb the port site and benedryl for any allergic reactions I may have to the chemo drugs.
I will have an infusion of TAC every 3 weeks, for a total of 6 treatments. Each treatment takes 4 - 5 hours. My first treatment will take place Friday, June 8th. My last treatment will take place on October 1st.
So the big "C" day is Friday. Can't say I'm looking forward to it, but I am looking forward to getting this overwith and this cancer journey behind me!
Strange plastic thing sticking out of my body?!
Yup, its a mediport.
Yesterday, I went in for routine surgery to have a mediport placed near my collar bone. It was relatively easy and I didn't have the awful reaction to the anesthea I had with the lumpectomy. The worst part of the entire day was not being able to eat. The best part of the entire day was going to McDonald's drive through on the way home.
The reason for getting a mediport is simple. Chemotherapy drugs are poison and can wreak havoc on your veins. Many cancer survivors have rubbery veins in the arm for the rest of their lives. Some struggle with IVs and blood draws during and after treatment. Some even have collapsed veins. I think cancer is bad enough. I don't want the drugs (that are going to give me another 50 years on this earth) to mess up anything else in body. They are already going to possibly destroy my ovaries, give me mouth sores, cause neuropathy and damage my heart muscle. I think that's enough damage for one body.
So I have a funny little bump sticking out of my chest. Could I have anymore strange things going on near my boobs? Seriously. The left one is 'sick' and the now the right one has a bump above it. The good news is that when its all over, this little extra appendage comes out. Thank goodness!
Recovery hurts. It feels like someone cracked my collar bone in half. It hurts to raise my arm and I can't pick up or hold Liam on that side for a few days. I need to make sure Liam doesn't grab or hit me there either. Sao that will be tough. You can't really tell a 9 month old "don't do that".
Next up is chemo orientation today. Oh joy!
Yesterday, I went in for routine surgery to have a mediport placed near my collar bone. It was relatively easy and I didn't have the awful reaction to the anesthea I had with the lumpectomy. The worst part of the entire day was not being able to eat. The best part of the entire day was going to McDonald's drive through on the way home.
The reason for getting a mediport is simple. Chemotherapy drugs are poison and can wreak havoc on your veins. Many cancer survivors have rubbery veins in the arm for the rest of their lives. Some struggle with IVs and blood draws during and after treatment. Some even have collapsed veins. I think cancer is bad enough. I don't want the drugs (that are going to give me another 50 years on this earth) to mess up anything else in body. They are already going to possibly destroy my ovaries, give me mouth sores, cause neuropathy and damage my heart muscle. I think that's enough damage for one body.
So I have a funny little bump sticking out of my chest. Could I have anymore strange things going on near my boobs? Seriously. The left one is 'sick' and the now the right one has a bump above it. The good news is that when its all over, this little extra appendage comes out. Thank goodness!
Recovery hurts. It feels like someone cracked my collar bone in half. It hurts to raise my arm and I can't pick up or hold Liam on that side for a few days. I need to make sure Liam doesn't grab or hit me there either. Sao that will be tough. You can't really tell a 9 month old "don't do that".
Next up is chemo orientation today. Oh joy!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Clinical Trial
We met with my oncologist, Dr. Denduluri, today regarding the clinical trial. The reader's digest version is that the clinical trial is not set up the way that it was presented to us. We aren't sure what 'arm' of the trial I will fall into. Its not guaranteed that I would be selected for the arm that takes the "A" drug out of the mix (Adriamycin - the one that damages the heart). Needless to say, I was disappointed and confused by this.
After talking to the clinical trial director and my oncologist, we decided to move forward with attempting to get into the arm that is TC+Avastin (Taxotere + Cytoxan + Avastin). If I do not get into this arm of the study, I will either be given TAC (Taxotere + Cytoxan + Adriamycin...the nasty heart damaging drug) or TC (Taxotere + Cytoxan). Both TAC and TC have been used for a long time to treat breast cancer, but both are known to potentially cause damage to the heart. The beauty of TC+Avastin is that Avastin attacks the blood vessels that cause tumors to grow and thrive in the body. Since my cancer was fast growing, wouldn't it be nice to halt the growth of vessels that feed these tumors? That was the arm I was hoping to get into. It doesn't appear that it's a given for me, so I have a 1 in 3 chance of still getting the chemo with the bad "A" attached to it. We'll see what happens.
Either way, TC, TAC or TC+Avastin is going to be hell. I'm just trying to make hell as bareable as possible, given the circumstances. My start date for chemo will either be June 23rd or June 30th.
On a lighter note, I am attending "Chemo Orientation" on Tuesday to get "edgamacated" on all the lovely poison they will be pumping into my body for 18 weeks. I am likening this "orientation" experience to college orientation. Do you remember your college orientation? I do! I showed up in July, toured the campus, did some ice breakers with future dormmates, picked out my classes for the fall semester and talked about how awesome it would be to live on my own! Sound similar to chemo orientation? Absolutely! I'll tour the infusion suite, meet some other cancer patients, share our "I was diagnosed with blah blah blah" stories, set up my infusion dates/times and talk about how awesome it will be when I'm a survivor. Yup, just like college orientation, but without the beer and hormones.
After talking to the clinical trial director and my oncologist, we decided to move forward with attempting to get into the arm that is TC+Avastin (Taxotere + Cytoxan + Avastin). If I do not get into this arm of the study, I will either be given TAC (Taxotere + Cytoxan + Adriamycin...the nasty heart damaging drug) or TC (Taxotere + Cytoxan). Both TAC and TC have been used for a long time to treat breast cancer, but both are known to potentially cause damage to the heart. The beauty of TC+Avastin is that Avastin attacks the blood vessels that cause tumors to grow and thrive in the body. Since my cancer was fast growing, wouldn't it be nice to halt the growth of vessels that feed these tumors? That was the arm I was hoping to get into. It doesn't appear that it's a given for me, so I have a 1 in 3 chance of still getting the chemo with the bad "A" attached to it. We'll see what happens.
Either way, TC, TAC or TC+Avastin is going to be hell. I'm just trying to make hell as bareable as possible, given the circumstances. My start date for chemo will either be June 23rd or June 30th.
On a lighter note, I am attending "Chemo Orientation" on Tuesday to get "edgamacated" on all the lovely poison they will be pumping into my body for 18 weeks. I am likening this "orientation" experience to college orientation. Do you remember your college orientation? I do! I showed up in July, toured the campus, did some ice breakers with future dormmates, picked out my classes for the fall semester and talked about how awesome it would be to live on my own! Sound similar to chemo orientation? Absolutely! I'll tour the infusion suite, meet some other cancer patients, share our "I was diagnosed with blah blah blah" stories, set up my infusion dates/times and talk about how awesome it will be when I'm a survivor. Yup, just like college orientation, but without the beer and hormones.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Blackjack
If we were playing Blackjack this morning at MGM Grand or Bellagio in Vegas, I would have been lucky. If you're not a card shark, I'll translate...the doctor was able to retrieve 21 eggs this morning. The entire procedure was easy and relatively painless.
We arrived at Shady Grove Fertility Center in Rockville, MD at 6:00 am and immediately I was placed in a room with two other women undergoing the same procedure. The anesthesiologist hooked me up to an IV (one of the less painful ones I've received lately) and were were ready to roll. They gave me medicine for nausea since I have issues with anethsethia. They walked me into the procedure room and right after I sat down on the surgical table (which looked like the ol' pelvic exam table), I started to feel high. Ahhhhhhh!!! Next thing I knew, I was waking up in a bed. I had some cramps and that was it. All done!
Jim drove me home and I slept for about four hours. I'm up and around now and feeling good. Sorry guys for the details, but it just feels like normal cramping. Nothing I can't handle!
So I've got 21 eggs on ice for future usage! See ya in about two and a half years eggies...stay frosty!!!
We arrived at Shady Grove Fertility Center in Rockville, MD at 6:00 am and immediately I was placed in a room with two other women undergoing the same procedure. The anesthesiologist hooked me up to an IV (one of the less painful ones I've received lately) and were were ready to roll. They gave me medicine for nausea since I have issues with anethsethia. They walked me into the procedure room and right after I sat down on the surgical table (which looked like the ol' pelvic exam table), I started to feel high. Ahhhhhhh!!! Next thing I knew, I was waking up in a bed. I had some cramps and that was it. All done!
Jim drove me home and I slept for about four hours. I'm up and around now and feeling good. Sorry guys for the details, but it just feels like normal cramping. Nothing I can't handle!
So I've got 21 eggs on ice for future usage! See ya in about two and a half years eggies...stay frosty!!!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Trigger Day
Today started the same way as the last five days have started: a 7:00 am visit to Shady Grove Fertility Clinic for blood work and an ultrasound. Over the last three days, my estrogen levels have stayed low, which is a good thing. The drug Femara has been growing my little egglettes, while keeping my estrogen in check. For those of you who are new to my blog, I have a very estrogen receptive cancer. So my ovaries, and the estrogen they produce, are trying to kill me. Femara keeps estrogen in my body in check while growing lots of little egglettes. Toward the end of the IVF cycle, doctors want to see your estrogen level rise to signal the time for the "trigger shot" and eventual harvest. Over the last three days, everything has been increasing, except for my estrogen. Instead of taking Femara out of the protocol, we were on a 'watch and see' timeline. Today we finally got the go ahead for the 'trigger shot'.
All of the breast cancer blogs and fertility preservation websites make a big deal about the trigger shot. It hurts, its intermuscular, it causes you to bleed...blah blah blah. Honestly, it wasn't that bad. I would liken it to a flu shot, except this shot was in the ol' butt. I iced the area for about 15 minutes and by the time it came for the shot, I didn't feel a thing!
And I have to add that the entire fertility preservation process was not that bad. Yes, the shots hurt. Yes, the daily doctors appointments, daily blood draws and sonograms were an inconvenience. But I didn't experience the God awful bloating, 10 pounds of water weight gain and uncontrollable bitchiness. All I experienced was injection site pain, cramps and slight bloating. All and all, it really wasn't that bad.
So the egglettes will be harvested at 7:00 am on Tuesday, June 8th. I won't go into the details of the harvesting process so use your imagination. I'll be put to sleep and I'll wake up with someone telling me, "Congratulations, you're the happy owner of X number of eggs on ice!". I'll be out of commission for a day and probably back to work on Wednesday. Then its bye bye Shady Grove, hello Infusion Center at NOVA Oncology and Hematology Center.
All of the breast cancer blogs and fertility preservation websites make a big deal about the trigger shot. It hurts, its intermuscular, it causes you to bleed...blah blah blah. Honestly, it wasn't that bad. I would liken it to a flu shot, except this shot was in the ol' butt. I iced the area for about 15 minutes and by the time it came for the shot, I didn't feel a thing!
And I have to add that the entire fertility preservation process was not that bad. Yes, the shots hurt. Yes, the daily doctors appointments, daily blood draws and sonograms were an inconvenience. But I didn't experience the God awful bloating, 10 pounds of water weight gain and uncontrollable bitchiness. All I experienced was injection site pain, cramps and slight bloating. All and all, it really wasn't that bad.
So the egglettes will be harvested at 7:00 am on Tuesday, June 8th. I won't go into the details of the harvesting process so use your imagination. I'll be put to sleep and I'll wake up with someone telling me, "Congratulations, you're the happy owner of X number of eggs on ice!". I'll be out of commission for a day and probably back to work on Wednesday. Then its bye bye Shady Grove, hello Infusion Center at NOVA Oncology and Hematology Center.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Race for the Cure
Today I walked in the Race for the Cure in Washington, DC. My friends Carolyn and Lisa were kind enough to join me for the event. As you can see from the pictures above, it was a beautiful day (and a bit humid!) Although I have been a part of the race in the past, this year felt like an out of body experience. Mainly because I was one of the participants wearing the pink survivor shirt. I felt like I was lying in a way. I'm not a survivor...yet. I haven't even started the worst of the worst...yet. I haven't experienced a quarter of what those other women have experienced...yet. My journey to survival has just begun. I've had two surgeries, countless needle pricks, IVs, scans and other uncomfortable tests. But I haven't fought the fight yet. My fight is just beginning.
Women around me had signs honoring loved ones who lost their battle. Others wore team shirts to support a friend or loved one battling the disease. What struck me about today's race was the lack of young women wearing pink survivor shirts. I felt like every woman wearing a shirt was old enough to be my mother. Or she had a daughter with her who was a teen or twenty-something. Where are all my girls - the ones who I see on the Young Survival Site, or on the blogs talking about managing chemo and a toddler? I felt lost out there - like there weren't 'my kind' in the race.
Its because women like me aren't supposed to get breast cancer. Women who are 60 have a 1 in 28 chance of getting breast cancer. Women who are 40 have a 1 in 100 chance of getting breast cancer. Women in their 30's? Well, you do the math.
Anyway, it was a sobering experience. I wasn't feeling much like going into the survivors tent or like getting anymore literature on breast cancer after the race. I know plenty about it, thank you very much! I'm living it everyday. I read about it every night when I log onto the Young Survivors Coalition to chat with 'my kind'.
So I guess what I'm trying to say is that maybe this year's Race for the Cure had some bad timing for me. Maybe I should have waited until I am a true 'survivor'? I'm not sure. Maybe I will still feel this way next year? Only time will tell. Maybe I'm in the grief and anger phase and I didn't even know it? Quite possibly.
I think being around all those women in pink made me realize that this is real. Heart damage, loss of hair, burning skin, the constant fear of metastisizing, early menopause - its all going to happen. And its happening...to me. Not to the 'pink warriors' in the TV commercials. I think today is the first day that I realized that I have a deadly disease that kills thousands of women every year. And that is a very scary and awful thing to have to process and come to terms with.
On a lighter note...Tuesday will be egg harvest day! I am still doing two shots at night and they hurt! And Monday, the 14th, my surgeon will put in the mediport for chemotherapy. I am hoping to have my first round of chemotherapy at the end of that week or the following week.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Harvest Update
So things are progressing very nicely. I saw the doctor again today and it appears that my body is responding very well to the fertility shots. I have 10 high quality egglettes ready to pop. My body is responding so well that they are bumping up the harvest date to Tuesday or Wednesday of next week. Then I will have a mediport surgically placed a few days later.
Tonight I increased the amount of Gonal-f I am injecting and added a third drug into the mix. I am now injecting a shot of Ganirelix each night. This drug keeps the egglettes from being released prematurely so that they can go in and harvest them once they are fully developed. This shot hurt like hell! The gage of the needle must be bigger because it felt like a burning poker going into my stomach! Afterwards I felt like I in labor for about 20 minutes - I am not kidding. It was like my 40th week all over again (minus the big belly). I see the doctor again tomorrow to make sure that they aren't popping off yet and that the Ganirelix is doing what its supposed to do.
I can't wait to get the proverbial "show on the road"...the sooner we start, the sooner is cancer journey is over.
Tonight I increased the amount of Gonal-f I am injecting and added a third drug into the mix. I am now injecting a shot of Ganirelix each night. This drug keeps the egglettes from being released prematurely so that they can go in and harvest them once they are fully developed. This shot hurt like hell! The gage of the needle must be bigger because it felt like a burning poker going into my stomach! Afterwards I felt like I in labor for about 20 minutes - I am not kidding. It was like my 40th week all over again (minus the big belly). I see the doctor again tomorrow to make sure that they aren't popping off yet and that the Ganirelix is doing what its supposed to do.
I can't wait to get the proverbial "show on the road"...the sooner we start, the sooner is cancer journey is over.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Egglettes
A 7:00 am doctor's appt following a holiday weekend is always rough! Fortunately, I was in and out of the office in under 10 minutes! The good news is that I have about 17 little "egglettes" cooking up rather nicely. The nurse said everything is going as planned and we should get plenty of eggs next week during the "harvest". Everything is tracking on schedule and growing at the right pace.
Next up after the "harvest": port placement surgery. Stay tuned.
Next up after the "harvest": port placement surgery. Stay tuned.
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