2/20/13--Wednesday--Day 130--Life Continues Without Focusing on Cancer
The countdown continues as last week I survived chemo #3 and tomorrow I face chemo #4. Last week we made the trip on Valentines' Day. Before arriving at our 10 AM scheduled time, we stopped by Krispy Kreme donuts to get some treats for our friends at the Cancer Center. Our first stop is always at the first floor lab. The two friendly receptionists greeted me with a smile, as always, and were eager to hear how the Pretty in Pink party went. They were complimentary of my new head attire and reassuring that shaving my hair before my hair fell out was the right thing to do. They were also glad to be the first stop on my appointment list as the Krispy Kreme donuts were still warm :)
Accessing my port was again pain-free, thanks to the Lidocaine creme we put on an hour before arriving. In the past, they also have sprayed a freeze spray before accessing it, but this time they informed me they stopped using the spray because the previous day a study was released that suggested the spray may cause tissue damage. It's reassuring to see MD Anderson react so immediately to new medical information. I'm not sure the freeze spray did much for me after the cream, but I'm sure the patience who didn't have the creme missed it.
After supplying the lab crew with donuts, we headed to the Infusion Center on the 3rd floor to wait for labs and be called back to start the chemo. While waiting, I snuck back down to the 2nd floor to leave donuts for our friends in the doctors' offices. During chemo, I only see the doctors every four weeks unless there is a problem with my labs, so we don't see the people we've been so used to seeing regularly. I gave donuts to the receptionists and left more for our two favorite nurses, Tia and Betsy, along with all of the doctors and assistants.
Back up on the 3rd floor, we finished handing out donuts to the receptionists as well as the nurses once we were called back. I was super excited to have Cheryl as my nurse, once again. Each time so far, Cheryl has secured a window seat for me and we've just established a great repport. During chemo, Tia and Betsy came to find me to thank me for the donuts. It was really nice to see them. The infusion went flawlessly again. Going slow is definitely the key. I had my typical tomato soup and sandwich lunch served from the volunteers there while Greg packed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and was super happy with his comfy chair he brings. It's almost to the point of being routine now, so that's good.
Shortly after 3PM we were finished and ready to leave. I made a quick stop on the 2nd floor at the Boutique of Hope shop where I purchased a few more caps to go with my outfits. It has continued to be a huge challenge to coordinate outfits with head ware, but I'm starting to get a decent collection that's interchangeable.
With my hair gone, we brought the wig and headed to the wig shop to get it fit and trimmed. Unfortunately, the wig shop was very busy, even though we had called ahead. By the time we were finished, the wig looked great, very close to my real hair, but we had been there more than two hours and I was starting to fade. As we travel this cancer road, we continue to learn more and more about my limits. We had three more stops to make, but I knew I was starting to feel the fatigue so I stayed in the car. By Globe, however, I was nauseated and not feeling well at all. That was the first time I've had to take a nausea pill since I've started chemo. The rest of the trip was uncomfortable as, for the first time, my legs were tingly and numb. Greg reminded me that we were usually home by that time. Lesson #1 for this week--we are definitely limited on how long we can stay after chemo.
After sleeping, I was fine on Friday and went to work with no problems. Saturday was relaxing and the weather was finally warm enough to start walking again. We've been trying to walk to build up my endurance in hopes of helping me tolerate chemo better. We have a few routes around the cotton fields mapped out and our normal walk is 1.75 miles and takes about 40 minutes. It was a nice walk and Saturday ended with no issues.
Lesson #2, however, came on Sunday. After waking up and having breakfast, we decided to go on a new route for our walk. Big mistake. Half way through the venture, I was beat. I laid down on a bench trying to recover. After resting for a bit, we continued on, but within minutes, my feet were dragging, I was crying, and the fatigue was severe. Greg wanted to call someone to pick us up, but I refused. I was sad, mad, frustrated and determined. Step after step, many with my eyes closed and some with tears, we finally made our way home after an hour and 15 minutes. When we got home, I immediately went upstairs and went to bed. I slept until evening and felt just awful once I got up. Monday morning, however, I was fine, once again. Monday I wanted to walk that same route to see if it was just too long of a walk, or if it was because of the fatigue that seems to hit on Sundays. So Monday after work we walked the same route, this time it only took us forty minutes and we had no issues. So that was it--Lesson #2--Sundays are my bad days. For three weeks in a row now I have had bad Sundays. Now we will at least be able to plan knowing what to expect on Sundays.
Monday night, I finally finished writing what seemed like a million thank you notes. Please forgive me if I missed you. There have been people who have brought gifts, brought meals, and helped in many ways that I may not have written down, so please accept this public thank you if I missed sending you a note. I truly do appreciate all of the support I've received.
As I was writing Monday night, I reached up to rub my head and notice, for the first time, hair falling out. I didn't know what to feel. Was I glad because if I had shaved my hair and it never fell out, I would be totally discouraged? Or was I sad because this was truly the reality of going bald? I guess I felt a little of both. I was relieved that yes, my hair was going to fall out, so shaving was a good thing. I was scared because it was another sign of reality that I really do have cancer and crazy things are going on with my body. But, in the big picture, it was just another point on the journey. By Tuesday morning in the shower, it was definitely confirmed that my hair was falling out. Now I just wondered how long it was going to take. At this point, it's sort of like a cat shedding--it doesn't fall out unless you rub it or touch it. All I know is I couldn't be happier that I shaved it short. I can't imagine the heart-break I would be feeling right now if it were long strands of hair coming out every time I touched it or brushed it.
So that's the lastest. I'm learning how to better manage chemo, I'm figuring out my wardrobe with coordinating caps and scarfs, and I'm trying to eat and exercise to stay as fit as possible to help me through this long journey. Thank goodness recovery from the surgeries seems to be pretty much complete. My six week checkup is next week, but I feel fully recovered from the hysterectomy. My right hand fingers are still numb and I still have no feeling under my right arm, but that could take months to return to normal. Even my scars are healing and starting to disappear. Though they say each week the effects of the chemo may increase and right now I'm learning a lot, life still continues without focusing on cancer.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
(Revised) Chemo #2 and Pretty In Pink Party Both HUGE Successes.........
2/11/13--Monday--Day 121--My Beauty Will Come From Inside Out.
Raw video footage is now uploaded at www.lindseyfamily.com/cancer This includes Brooklyn's video, the blue mohawk video, the slide show of Susan Support Team photos and all three live streaming videos. We will be working on creating the editied Pretty in Pink video for a little while.
Also, I totally forgot to blog about the balloon release on Sunday and it's a story that must be told. If you've already read the blog, skip to the Sunday morning paragraph for the update.
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So much has happened since my last post--my second chemo, the Pretty in Pink party, my new bald appearance. I'll start with chemo #2 from last Thursday.
We first went to the lab where they accessed my port and did the blood work. While waiting for the lab results, we stopped in the Bouquet of Hope to look at scarfs. I picked out a few head caps but still have a bunch to figure out about using a scarf. The caps looked great with my hair but I wasn't too excited at the thought of them with no hair. While in the shop, I ran into a woman who had lymphedema. While I only saw her hand, wrist and part way up her forearm, I was completely shocked. Her arm was so severely swollen it literally wrinkled over her hand at the wrist. She was there looking for a compression sleeve to try to help. She said she thought the lymphedema had become much worse from the airplane ride over. It truly scared me and made me realize how quickly lymphedema could happen and how awful it could be. She had never seen Leona, the lymphedema specialist, and didn't know anything about lymphatic massage so I suggested she look into making an appointment. After that, now more than ever, I'm committed to following Leona's suggestions to helps me avoid lymphedema.
When we ventured up to the 3rd floor and went back to the chemo area, I was given to Cheryl, my nurse from last week. She said she saw me on the schedule and requested me. That made me feel good and was really nice because she was familiar with the bad reaction I had had last week and knew the plan we had set to slow things down. We started with the Dexamethasone, the steroid to prevent reactions. That is given in an IV drip for 15 minutes. This time, instead of then shooting in the Benadryl and Pepcid all at once, we did another 15 minute IV drip with those two drugs. That was immediately better. No dizziness, minimal reaction, and no suddenly feeling drunk. This was good. After that finished, we only had to wait 15 minutes before starting the Taxol (chemo) because the 30 minute wait is between the Dexamethasone and the chemo. The chemo I receive, Taxol, is supposed to take just about an hour to infuse. Cheryl slowed it way down causing it to take about 2.5 hours. But once again, it was great. I had no sleepy reaction, no numbing, very little reaction at all. In fact, Greg had planned to pick up our car that was getting some work done once I "conked out" and be back before I woke, but I never really even felt sleepy. The only bad part of the whole experience is that the whole process from lab to finish now takes 5 hours instead of 3, but it was so worth it. So that was it. We started at 10:30 AM and were leaving by 3:30 PM heading home with me relaxed, but not knocked out or hallucinating.
Thursday night our friends Mike and Suzie from Albuquerque came and Friday morning my dad, Preston and Yuri came to help us prepare for the Pretty in Pink party Saturday. I relaxed most of the day Friday in between doing small tasks trying to make sure I was well rested for the busy Saturday. With everyone's help, the house was cleaned, some additional food was prepared, beds were made for some of our out-of-town company coming, and we even make 50 plus Kisses of Hope goodie bags to give out to those who came to the party.
The real fun started Saturday as the house filled with people who had worked hard to make this Pretty in Pink Party perfect. Greg was amazing directing our family and friends in all of the necessary tasks to get things ready for a houseful of people. Carol Elders and Stephanie Saldana came at 9 AM with all the wonderful decorations and goodies. They had worked hard planning everything. With the help of Yuri, they transformed the house into a pink palace of inspiration and support. Our friends Paul and Diane came from Phoenix and immediately jumped in helping with food and setup. Friends from Tucson, John, Jennifer, Michelle and her kiddos came bringing a huge tub of Egees! Suzie, my Albuquerque friend and personal hair dresser, trained and prepared the Pink Out crew--Mike painted pink ribbon glitter tattoos, Rebecca Richins, Cheyanne Allred and Yuri learned to tie pink bling in hair and chalk hair, and helped with decorating nails.
Many who couldn't make it that afternoon for the party came earlier in the day to show support. Natalie Reynolds from the middle school came and gave me an amazing poster the middle school had printed of the wonderful support photos from the school's Pink Out day. She also presented me with a beautiful quilt made by Denise Crocket. What an amazing gift. A knock on the door brought bags and bags of balloons sent from Sandra Griffith Carpenter, one of my former newspaper editors, along with a note that brought me to tears. My dad brought me a bouquet of pink carnations, my mom's favorite flowers, and Randall, my father-in-law, brought beautiful pink roses. One of the most special gifts of the day was having Vikki "Mouse" (Vikki Colvin McIntyre) come from Tempe to photograph the special event. Vikki has been a part of our lives for more than 20 years since she was in high school and was one of my newspaper editors. She is an amazing photographer now and to have her photograph this moment in my journey was heart-touching. The scene was truly set for an amazing evening.
By afternoon the house started to swarm with people as 4 PM came and went. Even a friend from high school, Les Duncan, came from Phoenix to surprise me. Wonderful friends continued to flow in, some whom I haven't seen in years. Though I tried to stay seated as much as possible, every few moments brought new waves of more wonderful friends who came to stand by my side and support me.
Just before the party started, Greg set up a live streaming video feed which we advertised on our Facebook pages. Suddenly, people from everywhere could join the party live. Thanks to our iPad holders, Carol, Duane Richins, and Lily, our friends from across the nation joined the party live. Our star videographer for the streaming video feed became Nicole Lunt. She is Wanda Evan's daughter who came to support me since her mother couldn't be there. Nicole had been key in getting a lot of the Susan Support Team photos from around town, and, like her mother does, she immediately stepped in and made a huge difference in this event. She made the video stream great for the viewers, and we really appreciated her jumping in at the last minute.
By 5, most everyone had been "Pinked Out" with bling or tattoos or hair color or nails or all of the above, so we went out back on the hill to take a group photo. That's when I realized there were more than 50 people there! It was an amazing feeling of love and support. From there, Greg ushered everyone to the back playroom to make an announcement. He and Preston had been working on a surprise most of the day, in between doing everything else. He started by announcing what I call the Blue Mohawk video that had originally inspired me to make a video. A sister in cancer, Tina Richards from Boise, had made a video of when she shaved her head. My neighbor, Gayrene Claridge, had originally shared the video with me. Greg introduced Tina's video and showed it explaining we wanted to make shaving my head inspirational for others as well. Then, he made us all cry. He announced that Brooklyn, my daughter who is in college in Boise, had made a video for me, and with the help of Preston editing it together, he wanted to show it since she couldn't be there in person. Brooklyn was following the live stream and watched as we all broke into tears. Her video started with a short introduction with her in her pink wig. Just hearing her cute, sweet voice and personality lit up the room while bringing tears to many of us. Then, it went to pictures. The first picture was of her and said, "Not just me....". The second was of her and Trina, my best friend in Idaho with whom Brooklyn is living, and said, "Not just us......". And the third picture was of three hands all clasped together with three breast cancer support bracelets and said, "but the three of us, can you guess who...." and then, there she was. The fourth picture was of Brooklyn and Trina with Tina Richards from the Blue Mohawk video. Brooklyn had found the lady who made this video and met with her to do a photo shoot to be part of Brooklyn's video. There she was with what you might call a surrogate for what I am facing. It was a real connection for Brooklyn and I both. She suddenly had a person to give her hugs to and seeing that made me actually feel them, knowing they were for me. It was amazing and silly and crazy just in the way only Brooklyn can do. And mostly, it made her be right there, right with us, right in the room. (Brooklyn's video, the Blue Mohawk video, the support picture video that we showed throughout the party on the TV's, and the live streaming videos can all be seen at www.lindseyfamily.com/cancer When the Pretty in Pink video of the party is ready, I'll post it in the blog but it will be a week or so out still). I can't thank Tina enough. Brooklyn loved meeting her and I feel like I know her already.
So after the videos and a short break to dry tears, we were ready. It was time to cut my hair. As Suzie was getting ready, Greg re-entered the room as only Greg can. He wore a long pink wig, pink star Elton-John-like sunglasses, and of course, his pink speedo. It all matched his pink toenails and fingernails. It was the perfect tension-breaker. Suzie pulled out a beautiful new pink cape, pink spray bottle and pink comb while I announced our intention to do the cutting in three stages. I was determined not to cry and felt strong as long as I didn't think about what we were actually about to do.
Through the first cut, which took my hair from about four inches below my shoulders to about ear level, I never looked at the ground. I knew if I did, I couldn't stay strong. There were fifty people in the room watching, and I knew they would take their cues from me and my reactions. Greg and others kept me laughing and when the first style was finished, everyone applauded and said they LOVED my hair short. My hair hasn't been that short since eighth grade when my sister Sharon was in beauty school and I was her practice dummy, but it actually didn't look as bad as I thought.
We immediately moved to the next cut, which was just going to be a few inches long. Between Greg, and Preston, and my friends Diane, Mike and Michelle, someone continually held my hand, which helped a ton. Once again, that style pleased the crowd as everyone commented on how my eyes and check bones suddenly popped out. Now they were taking bets that I would never go back to long hair again after this. I still had not looked at the floor, but when I looked in the mirror, I was relieved to see my head was not quite as big as I had imagined and my face did not look super fat like I had feared.
Now was the final step--shaving it almost completely off. We were told to leave about 1/4 of an inch to keep it from itching and getting infected. There were no more scissors--only clippers now as Suzie "buzzed" me into the last and final stage. She completed the back before ending with the front and that was it. It was all gone. I still had not looked at the ground and didn't intend to. As they quickly cleaned up the floor, I kept my big smile and happy attitude as I took my first pictures with family and friends and little or no hair. When I looked in the mirror, I was surprised by how much darker my hair was than I had been wearing it. I have been coloring my hair for almost a decade to escape the gray that continued to creep in. My brown color was a contrast to the darker brownish black that lay against my scalp now. It didn't matter. It was done. And everyone was super supportive and encouraging telling me I was beautiful and that my eyes were even more amazing now. Whether it was the truth or a lie, it was definitely what I needed to hear so I was glad. After more pictures, everyone wanted to see the caps I had bought and my wig so I tried those on. Then I spent the rest of the evening just in my bare head. That was the best thing ever. Spending the evening in front of more than fifty people with my "bald" head immediately got me passed the fear of facing people and the public bald. It did exactly what I needed it to.
As the evening came to a close, thank goodness for Susie Case, Carole Brady, and the friends staying the night. They did an amazing job cleaning up and un-decorating. I don't know what I would have done without them as I was physically reaching my limits. It had been an incredibly busy three days. I was still on an emotional high as midnight approached. We had a poker game going and a couple of tables of Wahoo while I most sat in the recliner watching. I didn't want to go to bed. I knew once I let myself come down from the high, reality of what we had done would set in. But by 1:45 AM, it could no longer be avoided. We headed upstairs to bed and just as I feared, it all hit me. As I started to brush my teeth, I broke down in tears. I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror. I cried and turned off the light so I didn't have to see myself. I was a wreck. As we started the evening, I was a normal-looking person who happened to have cancer. Now, as I ended the day, I suddenly looked like a sick person. Before I had cancer, but I looked normal. Now, I look like I have cancer. Greg, Mike and Suzie tried their best to comfort me, but it was hard. I climbed into bed and laid my shaved head on my pillow for the first time. It was pokey and cold and just felt completely wrong so I cried some more. Greg held me and tried to reassure me. It was just hard.
I woke up throughout the night as my head was really, really cold. That would be one thing we would have to change--I obviously needed a stocking cap in which to sleep. The next morning I woke feeling more sick than I've ever felt so far. My body was exhausted, I was trembling and I was limp. Suddenly I didn't care how my hair looked anymore. I staggered into the shower hoping it would make me feel better. Wow, do I shampoo my head? Do I condition it? It was strange. I almost beat Greg out of the shower. I got dressed and tried on several of the caps I had purchased. All seemed to instantly give me a headache except for one--a beautiful pink hand-woven cap given to me by Irene at the party. Her friend had made it and it was my new very best friend. I didn't need the cap for looks, though it was exquisit, but I needed it to keep me warm. I headed downstairs and my energy was gone. I collapsed in the recliner trying to visit with all of the company as Mike, Preston, and Yuri cooked breakfast for everyone. The thought of food was nauseating though I finally managed to get down some eggs.
After breakfast, and before everyone left, we decided to do a balloon release. The note that came with the balloons Sandra sent the previous day talked about protecting someone by imagining them wrapped in a pink bubble safe away from harm. So we all proceeded outside to let the balloons go free as we lifted up our individual thoughts and prayers for my recovery. We had a huge bouquet of balloons for me to release and everyone else had several to release as well. From the back yard, up they went--all but mine that is! Like everything else with this stupid cancer, it had to be difficult--funny, but difficult. Sure enough, the huge bundle I released went straight up and caught on the electrical lines that run behind our house. Of course! The wind was swirling just enough to quickly wrap several of the balloons tightly around the lines. Great. Now what. Have no fear, Greg my hero is here! Out he came with a huge PVC pipe and over the fence he went and up onto the neighbor's storage shed with is large pipe in hand. He worked trying to convince the balloons to release, but with no success. Plan B included my large serrated bread knife taped to the end. Once again he began prodding the balloon bundle to leave. As the knife finally cut through the strings, the bundle released and quickly rose into the sky. By then the other balloons were barely visible as they had circled back around in the high altitude. Who else could have pulled that off? The only thing that would have made it perfect is if Greg had been in his pink speedo outfit from the previous day. We stood and watched the bundle until it was out of site and all laughed and my ingenious husband. The symbolism of how crazy and mixed up this cancer diagnosis has been from the very beginning was perfect.
After returning inside, I felt myself getting much worse. It was either a reaction from the chemo or exhaustion from the days before or a mixture of both. The expected chemo diarrea had started again leaving me feeling even more empty and by the time the last group left, I could barely crawl up the stairs and into bed. I slept five hours non-stop, got up to eat a bite and went back to bed for another eight hours. I had no idea what Monday would bring, but I knew the weekend couldn't have been better, even though I was sick on Sunday.
Monday morning I woke much more refreshed and actually fine with how my head looked. Getting ready to go to work I found dressing to be the new challenge. I have never had to worry about how the neckline of my clothes looked because the collar and neck have always been hidden by my hair. Each outfit I tried on looked odd to me because of the neckline. Four outfits later, I finally settled on one that looked "normal". Maybe I'll invest in some neck scarfs until I can get used to this neckline and collar stuff.
As for my head, I put a lot of thought into how I was going to go to work the first day after my party. Should I wear my wig? Should I wear a cap or a scarf? After worrying and wondering for days and day, the party made it clear to me. By being in front of so many people already, I didn't have any hesitation about being seen in public or by people with my "bald" head. I knew I was going to spend my first day at work as I was--bald. I wore my pink cap to keep my head warm as I went to the office, but once inside, I pulled it off and spent most of the day as I was.
Was that the right choice? If I wasn't going to wear my wig, why did I buy it? Here is what I decided. I want to be comfortable on a daily basis. I don't want to be ashamed. I don't want to feel like I have to hide. I have cancer--it's no secret. Just as I've said from the beginning, I don't want there to be any awkwardness about it. It is what it is. So in the workplace and on a daily basis, I will probably be bare-headed or with a cap or scarf. If there is a more formal event or I go somewhere where people don't already know I have cancer, I may wear my wig, we'll have to see. I know five weeks ago, those were not my feelings at all and picking a wig under which I could hide was the most important thing. I was going to wear my wig and pretend everything was normal. But interestingly now, my life is not normal. It is completely changed and I am completely changed. I may no longer be pretty with long hair to compliment my outside appearance but a wig isn't really going to change that. Instead, what I know is my beauty will come from the inside out. Those who know me will continue to see the beauty I hold within me as it lights up my eyes, my face and my spirit and that really has very little to do with what's on top of my head.
Raw video footage is now uploaded at www.lindseyfamily.com/cancer This includes Brooklyn's video, the blue mohawk video, the slide show of Susan Support Team photos and all three live streaming videos. We will be working on creating the editied Pretty in Pink video for a little while.
Also, I totally forgot to blog about the balloon release on Sunday and it's a story that must be told. If you've already read the blog, skip to the Sunday morning paragraph for the update.
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So much has happened since my last post--my second chemo, the Pretty in Pink party, my new bald appearance. I'll start with chemo #2 from last Thursday.
We first went to the lab where they accessed my port and did the blood work. While waiting for the lab results, we stopped in the Bouquet of Hope to look at scarfs. I picked out a few head caps but still have a bunch to figure out about using a scarf. The caps looked great with my hair but I wasn't too excited at the thought of them with no hair. While in the shop, I ran into a woman who had lymphedema. While I only saw her hand, wrist and part way up her forearm, I was completely shocked. Her arm was so severely swollen it literally wrinkled over her hand at the wrist. She was there looking for a compression sleeve to try to help. She said she thought the lymphedema had become much worse from the airplane ride over. It truly scared me and made me realize how quickly lymphedema could happen and how awful it could be. She had never seen Leona, the lymphedema specialist, and didn't know anything about lymphatic massage so I suggested she look into making an appointment. After that, now more than ever, I'm committed to following Leona's suggestions to helps me avoid lymphedema.
When we ventured up to the 3rd floor and went back to the chemo area, I was given to Cheryl, my nurse from last week. She said she saw me on the schedule and requested me. That made me feel good and was really nice because she was familiar with the bad reaction I had had last week and knew the plan we had set to slow things down. We started with the Dexamethasone, the steroid to prevent reactions. That is given in an IV drip for 15 minutes. This time, instead of then shooting in the Benadryl and Pepcid all at once, we did another 15 minute IV drip with those two drugs. That was immediately better. No dizziness, minimal reaction, and no suddenly feeling drunk. This was good. After that finished, we only had to wait 15 minutes before starting the Taxol (chemo) because the 30 minute wait is between the Dexamethasone and the chemo. The chemo I receive, Taxol, is supposed to take just about an hour to infuse. Cheryl slowed it way down causing it to take about 2.5 hours. But once again, it was great. I had no sleepy reaction, no numbing, very little reaction at all. In fact, Greg had planned to pick up our car that was getting some work done once I "conked out" and be back before I woke, but I never really even felt sleepy. The only bad part of the whole experience is that the whole process from lab to finish now takes 5 hours instead of 3, but it was so worth it. So that was it. We started at 10:30 AM and were leaving by 3:30 PM heading home with me relaxed, but not knocked out or hallucinating.
Thursday night our friends Mike and Suzie from Albuquerque came and Friday morning my dad, Preston and Yuri came to help us prepare for the Pretty in Pink party Saturday. I relaxed most of the day Friday in between doing small tasks trying to make sure I was well rested for the busy Saturday. With everyone's help, the house was cleaned, some additional food was prepared, beds were made for some of our out-of-town company coming, and we even make 50 plus Kisses of Hope goodie bags to give out to those who came to the party.
The real fun started Saturday as the house filled with people who had worked hard to make this Pretty in Pink Party perfect. Greg was amazing directing our family and friends in all of the necessary tasks to get things ready for a houseful of people. Carol Elders and Stephanie Saldana came at 9 AM with all the wonderful decorations and goodies. They had worked hard planning everything. With the help of Yuri, they transformed the house into a pink palace of inspiration and support. Our friends Paul and Diane came from Phoenix and immediately jumped in helping with food and setup. Friends from Tucson, John, Jennifer, Michelle and her kiddos came bringing a huge tub of Egees! Suzie, my Albuquerque friend and personal hair dresser, trained and prepared the Pink Out crew--Mike painted pink ribbon glitter tattoos, Rebecca Richins, Cheyanne Allred and Yuri learned to tie pink bling in hair and chalk hair, and helped with decorating nails.
Many who couldn't make it that afternoon for the party came earlier in the day to show support. Natalie Reynolds from the middle school came and gave me an amazing poster the middle school had printed of the wonderful support photos from the school's Pink Out day. She also presented me with a beautiful quilt made by Denise Crocket. What an amazing gift. A knock on the door brought bags and bags of balloons sent from Sandra Griffith Carpenter, one of my former newspaper editors, along with a note that brought me to tears. My dad brought me a bouquet of pink carnations, my mom's favorite flowers, and Randall, my father-in-law, brought beautiful pink roses. One of the most special gifts of the day was having Vikki "Mouse" (Vikki Colvin McIntyre) come from Tempe to photograph the special event. Vikki has been a part of our lives for more than 20 years since she was in high school and was one of my newspaper editors. She is an amazing photographer now and to have her photograph this moment in my journey was heart-touching. The scene was truly set for an amazing evening.
By afternoon the house started to swarm with people as 4 PM came and went. Even a friend from high school, Les Duncan, came from Phoenix to surprise me. Wonderful friends continued to flow in, some whom I haven't seen in years. Though I tried to stay seated as much as possible, every few moments brought new waves of more wonderful friends who came to stand by my side and support me.
Just before the party started, Greg set up a live streaming video feed which we advertised on our Facebook pages. Suddenly, people from everywhere could join the party live. Thanks to our iPad holders, Carol, Duane Richins, and Lily, our friends from across the nation joined the party live. Our star videographer for the streaming video feed became Nicole Lunt. She is Wanda Evan's daughter who came to support me since her mother couldn't be there. Nicole had been key in getting a lot of the Susan Support Team photos from around town, and, like her mother does, she immediately stepped in and made a huge difference in this event. She made the video stream great for the viewers, and we really appreciated her jumping in at the last minute.
By 5, most everyone had been "Pinked Out" with bling or tattoos or hair color or nails or all of the above, so we went out back on the hill to take a group photo. That's when I realized there were more than 50 people there! It was an amazing feeling of love and support. From there, Greg ushered everyone to the back playroom to make an announcement. He and Preston had been working on a surprise most of the day, in between doing everything else. He started by announcing what I call the Blue Mohawk video that had originally inspired me to make a video. A sister in cancer, Tina Richards from Boise, had made a video of when she shaved her head. My neighbor, Gayrene Claridge, had originally shared the video with me. Greg introduced Tina's video and showed it explaining we wanted to make shaving my head inspirational for others as well. Then, he made us all cry. He announced that Brooklyn, my daughter who is in college in Boise, had made a video for me, and with the help of Preston editing it together, he wanted to show it since she couldn't be there in person. Brooklyn was following the live stream and watched as we all broke into tears. Her video started with a short introduction with her in her pink wig. Just hearing her cute, sweet voice and personality lit up the room while bringing tears to many of us. Then, it went to pictures. The first picture was of her and said, "Not just me....". The second was of her and Trina, my best friend in Idaho with whom Brooklyn is living, and said, "Not just us......". And the third picture was of three hands all clasped together with three breast cancer support bracelets and said, "but the three of us, can you guess who...." and then, there she was. The fourth picture was of Brooklyn and Trina with Tina Richards from the Blue Mohawk video. Brooklyn had found the lady who made this video and met with her to do a photo shoot to be part of Brooklyn's video. There she was with what you might call a surrogate for what I am facing. It was a real connection for Brooklyn and I both. She suddenly had a person to give her hugs to and seeing that made me actually feel them, knowing they were for me. It was amazing and silly and crazy just in the way only Brooklyn can do. And mostly, it made her be right there, right with us, right in the room. (Brooklyn's video, the Blue Mohawk video, the support picture video that we showed throughout the party on the TV's, and the live streaming videos can all be seen at www.lindseyfamily.com/cancer When the Pretty in Pink video of the party is ready, I'll post it in the blog but it will be a week or so out still). I can't thank Tina enough. Brooklyn loved meeting her and I feel like I know her already.
So after the videos and a short break to dry tears, we were ready. It was time to cut my hair. As Suzie was getting ready, Greg re-entered the room as only Greg can. He wore a long pink wig, pink star Elton-John-like sunglasses, and of course, his pink speedo. It all matched his pink toenails and fingernails. It was the perfect tension-breaker. Suzie pulled out a beautiful new pink cape, pink spray bottle and pink comb while I announced our intention to do the cutting in three stages. I was determined not to cry and felt strong as long as I didn't think about what we were actually about to do.
Through the first cut, which took my hair from about four inches below my shoulders to about ear level, I never looked at the ground. I knew if I did, I couldn't stay strong. There were fifty people in the room watching, and I knew they would take their cues from me and my reactions. Greg and others kept me laughing and when the first style was finished, everyone applauded and said they LOVED my hair short. My hair hasn't been that short since eighth grade when my sister Sharon was in beauty school and I was her practice dummy, but it actually didn't look as bad as I thought.
We immediately moved to the next cut, which was just going to be a few inches long. Between Greg, and Preston, and my friends Diane, Mike and Michelle, someone continually held my hand, which helped a ton. Once again, that style pleased the crowd as everyone commented on how my eyes and check bones suddenly popped out. Now they were taking bets that I would never go back to long hair again after this. I still had not looked at the floor, but when I looked in the mirror, I was relieved to see my head was not quite as big as I had imagined and my face did not look super fat like I had feared.
Now was the final step--shaving it almost completely off. We were told to leave about 1/4 of an inch to keep it from itching and getting infected. There were no more scissors--only clippers now as Suzie "buzzed" me into the last and final stage. She completed the back before ending with the front and that was it. It was all gone. I still had not looked at the ground and didn't intend to. As they quickly cleaned up the floor, I kept my big smile and happy attitude as I took my first pictures with family and friends and little or no hair. When I looked in the mirror, I was surprised by how much darker my hair was than I had been wearing it. I have been coloring my hair for almost a decade to escape the gray that continued to creep in. My brown color was a contrast to the darker brownish black that lay against my scalp now. It didn't matter. It was done. And everyone was super supportive and encouraging telling me I was beautiful and that my eyes were even more amazing now. Whether it was the truth or a lie, it was definitely what I needed to hear so I was glad. After more pictures, everyone wanted to see the caps I had bought and my wig so I tried those on. Then I spent the rest of the evening just in my bare head. That was the best thing ever. Spending the evening in front of more than fifty people with my "bald" head immediately got me passed the fear of facing people and the public bald. It did exactly what I needed it to.
As the evening came to a close, thank goodness for Susie Case, Carole Brady, and the friends staying the night. They did an amazing job cleaning up and un-decorating. I don't know what I would have done without them as I was physically reaching my limits. It had been an incredibly busy three days. I was still on an emotional high as midnight approached. We had a poker game going and a couple of tables of Wahoo while I most sat in the recliner watching. I didn't want to go to bed. I knew once I let myself come down from the high, reality of what we had done would set in. But by 1:45 AM, it could no longer be avoided. We headed upstairs to bed and just as I feared, it all hit me. As I started to brush my teeth, I broke down in tears. I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror. I cried and turned off the light so I didn't have to see myself. I was a wreck. As we started the evening, I was a normal-looking person who happened to have cancer. Now, as I ended the day, I suddenly looked like a sick person. Before I had cancer, but I looked normal. Now, I look like I have cancer. Greg, Mike and Suzie tried their best to comfort me, but it was hard. I climbed into bed and laid my shaved head on my pillow for the first time. It was pokey and cold and just felt completely wrong so I cried some more. Greg held me and tried to reassure me. It was just hard.
I woke up throughout the night as my head was really, really cold. That would be one thing we would have to change--I obviously needed a stocking cap in which to sleep. The next morning I woke feeling more sick than I've ever felt so far. My body was exhausted, I was trembling and I was limp. Suddenly I didn't care how my hair looked anymore. I staggered into the shower hoping it would make me feel better. Wow, do I shampoo my head? Do I condition it? It was strange. I almost beat Greg out of the shower. I got dressed and tried on several of the caps I had purchased. All seemed to instantly give me a headache except for one--a beautiful pink hand-woven cap given to me by Irene at the party. Her friend had made it and it was my new very best friend. I didn't need the cap for looks, though it was exquisit, but I needed it to keep me warm. I headed downstairs and my energy was gone. I collapsed in the recliner trying to visit with all of the company as Mike, Preston, and Yuri cooked breakfast for everyone. The thought of food was nauseating though I finally managed to get down some eggs.
After breakfast, and before everyone left, we decided to do a balloon release. The note that came with the balloons Sandra sent the previous day talked about protecting someone by imagining them wrapped in a pink bubble safe away from harm. So we all proceeded outside to let the balloons go free as we lifted up our individual thoughts and prayers for my recovery. We had a huge bouquet of balloons for me to release and everyone else had several to release as well. From the back yard, up they went--all but mine that is! Like everything else with this stupid cancer, it had to be difficult--funny, but difficult. Sure enough, the huge bundle I released went straight up and caught on the electrical lines that run behind our house. Of course! The wind was swirling just enough to quickly wrap several of the balloons tightly around the lines. Great. Now what. Have no fear, Greg my hero is here! Out he came with a huge PVC pipe and over the fence he went and up onto the neighbor's storage shed with is large pipe in hand. He worked trying to convince the balloons to release, but with no success. Plan B included my large serrated bread knife taped to the end. Once again he began prodding the balloon bundle to leave. As the knife finally cut through the strings, the bundle released and quickly rose into the sky. By then the other balloons were barely visible as they had circled back around in the high altitude. Who else could have pulled that off? The only thing that would have made it perfect is if Greg had been in his pink speedo outfit from the previous day. We stood and watched the bundle until it was out of site and all laughed and my ingenious husband. The symbolism of how crazy and mixed up this cancer diagnosis has been from the very beginning was perfect.
After returning inside, I felt myself getting much worse. It was either a reaction from the chemo or exhaustion from the days before or a mixture of both. The expected chemo diarrea had started again leaving me feeling even more empty and by the time the last group left, I could barely crawl up the stairs and into bed. I slept five hours non-stop, got up to eat a bite and went back to bed for another eight hours. I had no idea what Monday would bring, but I knew the weekend couldn't have been better, even though I was sick on Sunday.
Monday morning I woke much more refreshed and actually fine with how my head looked. Getting ready to go to work I found dressing to be the new challenge. I have never had to worry about how the neckline of my clothes looked because the collar and neck have always been hidden by my hair. Each outfit I tried on looked odd to me because of the neckline. Four outfits later, I finally settled on one that looked "normal". Maybe I'll invest in some neck scarfs until I can get used to this neckline and collar stuff.
As for my head, I put a lot of thought into how I was going to go to work the first day after my party. Should I wear my wig? Should I wear a cap or a scarf? After worrying and wondering for days and day, the party made it clear to me. By being in front of so many people already, I didn't have any hesitation about being seen in public or by people with my "bald" head. I knew I was going to spend my first day at work as I was--bald. I wore my pink cap to keep my head warm as I went to the office, but once inside, I pulled it off and spent most of the day as I was.
Was that the right choice? If I wasn't going to wear my wig, why did I buy it? Here is what I decided. I want to be comfortable on a daily basis. I don't want to be ashamed. I don't want to feel like I have to hide. I have cancer--it's no secret. Just as I've said from the beginning, I don't want there to be any awkwardness about it. It is what it is. So in the workplace and on a daily basis, I will probably be bare-headed or with a cap or scarf. If there is a more formal event or I go somewhere where people don't already know I have cancer, I may wear my wig, we'll have to see. I know five weeks ago, those were not my feelings at all and picking a wig under which I could hide was the most important thing. I was going to wear my wig and pretend everything was normal. But interestingly now, my life is not normal. It is completely changed and I am completely changed. I may no longer be pretty with long hair to compliment my outside appearance but a wig isn't really going to change that. Instead, what I know is my beauty will come from the inside out. Those who know me will continue to see the beauty I hold within me as it lights up my eyes, my face and my spirit and that really has very little to do with what's on top of my head.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Focusing on the Right Perspective............
2/6/13--Wednesday--Day 116--It's Not What You Have to Go Through, But How You Look at It
As of today, I'm down to about two days of having my hair. Interestingly, since planning the Pretty in Pink party, I haven't cried at all about losing my hair. Talk about the perfect diversion. That is good because I cried for about a week during December every morning when I would sit and curl my hair. It's been easier since using my hair loss as an inspiration for others facing this same thing. Making the Pretty in Pink video, with the help of my family and friends and many supporters has been the perfect distraction.
On Friday, I found out the entire middle school and all three of our elementary schools, Dorothy Stinson, Lafe Nelson, and Ruth Powell had a Pink Out day in my name. They took wonderful pictures decked out in pink holding Susan's Support Team signs. When I first heard, it brought me to tears. How wonderful to have people rally around me in support of fighting breast cancer. It makes losing my hair so small in comparison to the awesomeness of such amazing support. I am so grateful for the teachers and administrators who organized this and helped students relate to me as the "lady responsible for the computers."
The Pretty in Pink pictures have continued to come in. I am amazed at how many of my former students have followed my blog and stayed super supportive through this. Some of my former yearbook editors and staff members, newspaper editors and staff members, even some of my former English students have all sent pictures. I am humbled at the thought that I made such a difference in their lives that they care about what I'm facing more than a decade later. Even Preston's Devil Dancesport group all dressed in pink and took a support picture. Luckily it was planned for tonight and I was able to stop by since we came to Mesa a day early. I stood in front of those young adults and told my story of wanting to inspire others as they faced hair loss and thanked them for helping me create this video.
My neighbors, Gayrene Claridge and her daughter Kristi Fertig (one of my former newspaper editors), painted a tree trunk in my honor. It is completely pink with a pink ribbon painted on it. As people come to the party and pass the tree, they will have the opportunity to stop and sign it. That was really cool and I was so impressed they took the time and effort to do that to show their support!
I hate the thought of Saturday coming and losing my hair, but I am excited for everyone to come and be a part of the support system. I told someone losing my hair may seem insignificant in the bigger picture of things, but it would be like if you had to go to work with your belly fat showing. We all "hide" our imperfections like belly fat, so think for a minute what it would be like to know, starting Saturday, you had to go everywhere, work, the store, out to eat, with your belly fully exposed. That's the best comparison I can make as to how I'm feeling about going out bald. Yes, I have an awesome wig, but I've heard from so many people that it just isn't comfortable and you end up not wearing it. We are going to the Boutique of Hope at the Cancer Center tomorrow after labs and before chemo to learn how to wrap a scarf and maybe purchase a couple. My friend Wanda Evans gave me some, but I haven't had the nerve to look at them yet. Guess I'll work with those some on Friday.
I've been a bit frustrated with the fatigue I'm experiencing. This afternoon, for example, we planned to stop at a few stores on our way in to town. I made it through one store for about thirty minutes and then my body became possessed. I grew flush, which Greg immediately noticed. I started sweating. The whole store was spinning. I finally had to go to the car while Greg checked out. It makes me so angry. I should be able to take a few breaths and get through it, but it just takes over my body completely. I so want to have mind over matter, but no matter how much I want that, my head becomes totally foggy and I get dizzy and I'm just done. I can't figure out if it is still from the surgery three weeks ago or from the chemo last week or both. Needless to say, we didn't make any more stops. Greg started driving and I fell asleep instantly.
In spite of the physical and mental challenges, I was still able to work two full days and one half day this week, so that is good. Thank goodness the dizziness is not an issue at work because my job is sitting at a desk so when the dizzy spells happen, I just put my head back and continue to work.
Last night I did decide coming over to Mesa the night before chemo is probably not such a good idea. I grew anxious and realized it lengthens the "chemo experience" to a two day event instead of one. I told Greg through, a couple of tears, I didn't want to do chemo again. I've done it once and I know what it is now and I'm done. I was really dreading it when all of a sudden, he put it into better perspective. "You only have 15 more left," he said. What? How did he figure that? I have six months of this. But when he stopped and explained, 12 once a week treatments (11 left) and 4 once every three week treatments, it helped--A LOT. Fifteen.....I can do fifteen. It won't be fun, but it's doable. Just like how the Pretty in Pink party has changed my perspective on losing my hair, I was grateful for Greg's perspective and realized it's not always about what you have to go through, but how you look at it.
As of today, I'm down to about two days of having my hair. Interestingly, since planning the Pretty in Pink party, I haven't cried at all about losing my hair. Talk about the perfect diversion. That is good because I cried for about a week during December every morning when I would sit and curl my hair. It's been easier since using my hair loss as an inspiration for others facing this same thing. Making the Pretty in Pink video, with the help of my family and friends and many supporters has been the perfect distraction.
On Friday, I found out the entire middle school and all three of our elementary schools, Dorothy Stinson, Lafe Nelson, and Ruth Powell had a Pink Out day in my name. They took wonderful pictures decked out in pink holding Susan's Support Team signs. When I first heard, it brought me to tears. How wonderful to have people rally around me in support of fighting breast cancer. It makes losing my hair so small in comparison to the awesomeness of such amazing support. I am so grateful for the teachers and administrators who organized this and helped students relate to me as the "lady responsible for the computers."
The Pretty in Pink pictures have continued to come in. I am amazed at how many of my former students have followed my blog and stayed super supportive through this. Some of my former yearbook editors and staff members, newspaper editors and staff members, even some of my former English students have all sent pictures. I am humbled at the thought that I made such a difference in their lives that they care about what I'm facing more than a decade later. Even Preston's Devil Dancesport group all dressed in pink and took a support picture. Luckily it was planned for tonight and I was able to stop by since we came to Mesa a day early. I stood in front of those young adults and told my story of wanting to inspire others as they faced hair loss and thanked them for helping me create this video.
My neighbors, Gayrene Claridge and her daughter Kristi Fertig (one of my former newspaper editors), painted a tree trunk in my honor. It is completely pink with a pink ribbon painted on it. As people come to the party and pass the tree, they will have the opportunity to stop and sign it. That was really cool and I was so impressed they took the time and effort to do that to show their support!
I hate the thought of Saturday coming and losing my hair, but I am excited for everyone to come and be a part of the support system. I told someone losing my hair may seem insignificant in the bigger picture of things, but it would be like if you had to go to work with your belly fat showing. We all "hide" our imperfections like belly fat, so think for a minute what it would be like to know, starting Saturday, you had to go everywhere, work, the store, out to eat, with your belly fully exposed. That's the best comparison I can make as to how I'm feeling about going out bald. Yes, I have an awesome wig, but I've heard from so many people that it just isn't comfortable and you end up not wearing it. We are going to the Boutique of Hope at the Cancer Center tomorrow after labs and before chemo to learn how to wrap a scarf and maybe purchase a couple. My friend Wanda Evans gave me some, but I haven't had the nerve to look at them yet. Guess I'll work with those some on Friday.
I've been a bit frustrated with the fatigue I'm experiencing. This afternoon, for example, we planned to stop at a few stores on our way in to town. I made it through one store for about thirty minutes and then my body became possessed. I grew flush, which Greg immediately noticed. I started sweating. The whole store was spinning. I finally had to go to the car while Greg checked out. It makes me so angry. I should be able to take a few breaths and get through it, but it just takes over my body completely. I so want to have mind over matter, but no matter how much I want that, my head becomes totally foggy and I get dizzy and I'm just done. I can't figure out if it is still from the surgery three weeks ago or from the chemo last week or both. Needless to say, we didn't make any more stops. Greg started driving and I fell asleep instantly.
In spite of the physical and mental challenges, I was still able to work two full days and one half day this week, so that is good. Thank goodness the dizziness is not an issue at work because my job is sitting at a desk so when the dizzy spells happen, I just put my head back and continue to work.
Last night I did decide coming over to Mesa the night before chemo is probably not such a good idea. I grew anxious and realized it lengthens the "chemo experience" to a two day event instead of one. I told Greg through, a couple of tears, I didn't want to do chemo again. I've done it once and I know what it is now and I'm done. I was really dreading it when all of a sudden, he put it into better perspective. "You only have 15 more left," he said. What? How did he figure that? I have six months of this. But when he stopped and explained, 12 once a week treatments (11 left) and 4 once every three week treatments, it helped--A LOT. Fifteen.....I can do fifteen. It won't be fun, but it's doable. Just like how the Pretty in Pink party has changed my perspective on losing my hair, I was grateful for Greg's perspective and realized it's not always about what you have to go through, but how you look at it.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Life with Chemo--Returning to Work...........
2/4/13--Monday--Day 114--Working Today Was Really Good For Me
Well, I made it through the weekend after chemo! We had been told the day after chemo (Friday), people do well, but the second day (Saturday) and third day (Sunday), some people experience side effects so I was super curious what the weekend would bring. On Friday, I slept in and rested in bed until later in the morning. When I got up, it was the second day in a row that I didn't really "feel" my surgery. My stomach and incisions weren't consciously hurting and it was nice to feel semi-normal again.
We decided to venture out for lunch for the first time since being home. I still don't really have much of an apetite, but it was nice to get out. After eating, on the way home, we made a quick stop and while Greg ran inside a store, I saw some friends and got out of the car to give hugs and catch up. We stood talking to them for about 45 minutes, and besides being cold in the shade, I did really well. My confidence was increasing and for the first time I was feeling good. From there we headed home to meet Jan who had Carson and Kelli in town for the week. It was nice to finally meet and talk to Kelli. She had been at the hospital when I was completely out of it, so I remembered her face, but that was it. I was able to relax in the recliner while we visited which rejuvenated me some.
After they left, we headed back out, this time to my office. I wanted to meet with Dr. T. and discuss going back to work for a few hours starting on Monday. And even though it would be just three weeks since my surgery, I had a note from the doctor that I could return to work "self regulated" when I felt comfortable. Greg went with me because my head is still spinning enough for me not to feel safe driving just yet. Also, when I hit that wall of exhaustion, there really hasn't been much warning. I just suddenly feel like a balloon that has lost its air, and I sort of become a limp puppet. When we first arrived, we stood by my office door and visited with my team for about 30 minutes. After that, we met with Dr. T for about an hour. By the time we were finished, my head was spinning and I was done. I had done a lot throughout the day but I was glad Greg was with me to take me home. So other than some fatigue, I felt really pretty good Friday. I hadn't been walking since the previous Saturday because it had been brutally cold and windy the first part of the week, but we did manage to get in a mile walk before Friday was over.
Early Saturday morning, I did begin having diarrhea, a known and somewhat expected side effect from the chemo, but it was definitely bearable. Saturday I found myself much more fatigued. After eating breakfast, we went for a walk, this time 1.5 miles. I had to hang on to Greg the last half mile as I was so light headed. That has been the frustrating part of this recovery. I don't know if it is from the anesthesia still working its way out of my body or what, but I constantly feel like I'm in the clouds. It's like what you feel when you take a decongestant and you just feel fuzzy. I was feeling it before the chemo, but Saturday it seemed to be even worse. I went with Greg and sat in the car as he changed the oil in the Prius, then I came home and stayed in the recliner most of the afternoon. I just didn't have the strength to even really lift my head. By evening, I felt a little better but I knew that was the fatigue they had talked about as a result of chemo.
Sunday morning I felt better. After eating we went to the grocery store, picked up some chicken for lunch and then walked 1.75 miles. I was able to help put away groceries, which was nice but after that, it was another afternoon of being in the recliner. We watched the Super Bowel game and I did a few loads of laundry, but that was the extent of my energy.
I went to bed early Sunday night wanting to get up early Monday morning and start adjusting back to a work schedule. As I was getting ready for work Monday, I felt scared. I had been out for three weeks and going back to work just felt a little intimidating. My team had been doing fine without me. Was I going to now slow everything down? I know that sounds odd, but I have never let my co-workers see me when I am weak or not on my top game until now. I'm the boss, and I've always been "together". Now everyone knew I was sick with cancer, which in my mind made me weak. And maybe that wasn't it, but for whatever reason, I was feeling very intimidated about returning to work. Interestingly, when I went to get dressed, I decided to try on my dress pants, never expecting them to fit due to the swelling from surgery. What a surprise to find not only did they fit, but I had extra room in them! I was super excited! I wasn't going to have to go to work in my sweats and in the weirdest way, I gained some confidence back.
I spent the first two hours working from home making sure I felt like going into the office. About 9:30 Greg dropped me off. My morning was filled with projects that had been waiting for my return. Greg picked me up for lunch and after eating, dropped me back off. Within an hour after lunch, things became more challenging. I worked an hour longer than I should have before calling Greg, but at the end of the day, I pretty much put in a full day and felt good about myself, even though I was exhausted. As soon as I got home, I fell fast asleep in the recliner for more than an hour. I'm not sure I will be able to work full days every day, especially toward the end of the week, but for now, working today was really good for me.
Well, I made it through the weekend after chemo! We had been told the day after chemo (Friday), people do well, but the second day (Saturday) and third day (Sunday), some people experience side effects so I was super curious what the weekend would bring. On Friday, I slept in and rested in bed until later in the morning. When I got up, it was the second day in a row that I didn't really "feel" my surgery. My stomach and incisions weren't consciously hurting and it was nice to feel semi-normal again.
We decided to venture out for lunch for the first time since being home. I still don't really have much of an apetite, but it was nice to get out. After eating, on the way home, we made a quick stop and while Greg ran inside a store, I saw some friends and got out of the car to give hugs and catch up. We stood talking to them for about 45 minutes, and besides being cold in the shade, I did really well. My confidence was increasing and for the first time I was feeling good. From there we headed home to meet Jan who had Carson and Kelli in town for the week. It was nice to finally meet and talk to Kelli. She had been at the hospital when I was completely out of it, so I remembered her face, but that was it. I was able to relax in the recliner while we visited which rejuvenated me some.
After they left, we headed back out, this time to my office. I wanted to meet with Dr. T. and discuss going back to work for a few hours starting on Monday. And even though it would be just three weeks since my surgery, I had a note from the doctor that I could return to work "self regulated" when I felt comfortable. Greg went with me because my head is still spinning enough for me not to feel safe driving just yet. Also, when I hit that wall of exhaustion, there really hasn't been much warning. I just suddenly feel like a balloon that has lost its air, and I sort of become a limp puppet. When we first arrived, we stood by my office door and visited with my team for about 30 minutes. After that, we met with Dr. T for about an hour. By the time we were finished, my head was spinning and I was done. I had done a lot throughout the day but I was glad Greg was with me to take me home. So other than some fatigue, I felt really pretty good Friday. I hadn't been walking since the previous Saturday because it had been brutally cold and windy the first part of the week, but we did manage to get in a mile walk before Friday was over.
Early Saturday morning, I did begin having diarrhea, a known and somewhat expected side effect from the chemo, but it was definitely bearable. Saturday I found myself much more fatigued. After eating breakfast, we went for a walk, this time 1.5 miles. I had to hang on to Greg the last half mile as I was so light headed. That has been the frustrating part of this recovery. I don't know if it is from the anesthesia still working its way out of my body or what, but I constantly feel like I'm in the clouds. It's like what you feel when you take a decongestant and you just feel fuzzy. I was feeling it before the chemo, but Saturday it seemed to be even worse. I went with Greg and sat in the car as he changed the oil in the Prius, then I came home and stayed in the recliner most of the afternoon. I just didn't have the strength to even really lift my head. By evening, I felt a little better but I knew that was the fatigue they had talked about as a result of chemo.
Sunday morning I felt better. After eating we went to the grocery store, picked up some chicken for lunch and then walked 1.75 miles. I was able to help put away groceries, which was nice but after that, it was another afternoon of being in the recliner. We watched the Super Bowel game and I did a few loads of laundry, but that was the extent of my energy.
I went to bed early Sunday night wanting to get up early Monday morning and start adjusting back to a work schedule. As I was getting ready for work Monday, I felt scared. I had been out for three weeks and going back to work just felt a little intimidating. My team had been doing fine without me. Was I going to now slow everything down? I know that sounds odd, but I have never let my co-workers see me when I am weak or not on my top game until now. I'm the boss, and I've always been "together". Now everyone knew I was sick with cancer, which in my mind made me weak. And maybe that wasn't it, but for whatever reason, I was feeling very intimidated about returning to work. Interestingly, when I went to get dressed, I decided to try on my dress pants, never expecting them to fit due to the swelling from surgery. What a surprise to find not only did they fit, but I had extra room in them! I was super excited! I wasn't going to have to go to work in my sweats and in the weirdest way, I gained some confidence back.
I spent the first two hours working from home making sure I felt like going into the office. About 9:30 Greg dropped me off. My morning was filled with projects that had been waiting for my return. Greg picked me up for lunch and after eating, dropped me back off. Within an hour after lunch, things became more challenging. I worked an hour longer than I should have before calling Greg, but at the end of the day, I pretty much put in a full day and felt good about myself, even though I was exhausted. As soon as I got home, I fell fast asleep in the recliner for more than an hour. I'm not sure I will be able to work full days every day, especially toward the end of the week, but for now, working today was really good for me.
Friday, February 1, 2013
First Day of Chemotherapy--The Dreaded 3rd Floor.............
1/31/13--Thursday--Day 110--Focusing on Chemo as the Path to the Cure Makes this Very Doable!
We thought we'd come to Mesa yesterday, but once I went to have my nails done, my energy was gone and I didn't feel like making the trip. It seems my endurance still maxes out at about an hour and a half no matter what I'm doing. So this morning we left by 6 AM for our first day of chemo.
We started at Preston's signing some paperwork for him to move into a little larger apartment. His current apartment is just over 400 sq ft and I can't tell you the number of times we've all stayed with him along with Mike and Suzie and even Brooklyn. We would fill the place with air mattresses and he never complained. The new place will be twice the size with a den where we'll put an extra bed so that in itselfe will help a ton and I won't feel so bad imposing.
After the paperwork, we arrived at the MD Anderson Cancer Center at 10 AM as scheduled. First I reported to the lab center. A young lady named Jesse took me back to do my labs and once she learned it was my first time getting my port accessed, she was careful to explain every step. We had been told to place a glob of the prescription lidocaine cream on the port area an hour before coming. She said it was really good we did that as she removed the band aide and started poking around the area with her fingers feeling for the bumps that mark the corners of the port. The Bard Power Port is a triangle shape device about the size of a bottle cap and the diameter of a quarter. The top looks like a mini trampoline with a membrane of some kind stretched over it. It is a self-sealing silicon septum so after a special needle accesses it, it reseals itself. Under the septum (trampoline) is a small basin. On the top of the port, each corner has bumps called Palpation Points on the rim of the port so the person accessing it can absolutely feel all edges of the port and determine the positioning. The port is surgically inserted under my skin by my left clavicle bone with nothing sticking out of the skin. The trampoline-like membrane is attached to a sealed basin which has a long catheter running out of it and is inserted into one of my large central veins that goes to my heart. This way medications or fluids can be delivered directly to my blood stream, and blood samples can be taken from my blood stream with no need to have repeated sticks in my wrist and veins.
Jesse spent time pushing on the port making sure she had a good handle on the positioning of it. Then she brought out the supplies, which included a mask for her and I to wear because this was a sterile procedure. She started by cleaning the skin with Chloraprep which was this cool sponge on a wand she punctured that contained antiseptic which fed into the attached sponge. It was like one of those dish soap scrubbers that has soap in the handle that comes out the sponge once you start rubbing the dishes. She then put on a special solution around the area so the tape would come off easily later. She sprayed a freeze antiseptic spray on the area right on top of the port for 10 seconds which also helped numb the area. Then she inserted the PowerLoc needle or what she called a Huber needle, which is basically a the special curved needle that won't hurt the port. I didn't even feel a pinch when the needle when in. "That doesn't feel right," she said and quickly made an adjustment saying "there we go." This made me realize experience is needed to access the port. She confirmed it takes doing it a hundred times or so to really get a good feel when it's right. I was glad to have someone who could recognized that. She tested it by making sure it could pull blood then rinsed it with some saline.
She told me my orders were for a CBC which was a Complete Blood Count screening and a Hepatic Function Pannel for the Liver. The blood count was mainly so they could watch my red blood cells, my white blood cells and my platelets. The liver screen is to make sure my liver isn't being hurt throughout the treatment. Once she pulled the tubes of blood out of the port, she flushed the port with two vials of saline and did what they call a Heparin lock on the port, which basically means they fill the port with Heparin to keep it from clotting. She finished by covering the whole area with clear cellophane band aide called Tegaderm which sealed around the edges and made a sterile pocket type environment so just the tubing came out.
From there we headed to the second floor. Last week the clinic had given me a large section to read on chemotherapy so Michelle, Dr. C's assistant, wanted to meet with us to answer questions we had after reading the material. Of course, I had a ton. She carefully listened and answered each one. I started with Greg's big questions, "Am I for sure going to lose my hair? Some of the literature said thinning?" I knew the answer to that, but we were both hoping it had changed. It hadn't. She confirmed my hair would for sure fall out. We went through a serious of about 10 more questions and Michelle was able to carefully explain them all but one. "What stage am I?" Because staging depended on the last pathology report as well as the first, we had never been clearly told. We think Dr. Matt might have said Stage 3A, but we weren't positive. And it's not that it matters so much, I just really wanted to know. Michelle said she would research that and get back to us for sure.
Even though it was getting close to time to make the dreaded rise to the 3rd floor, I wanted pictures with everyone before I lost my hair. They were all so accommodating. As they came in, I told them about my Pretty in Pink party and they were all so excited. We got a picture with Michelle and Lisa, assistance and nurse to Dr. C. They tracked down Dr. Byrum and Melissa, so I got a picture with them. Even Dr. C stopped in and took a picture. And we got pictures with Adrianna, my nurse navigator, and the two sweetest nurses there, Tia and Betsy. I was so happy and that meant the world to me. The only one we missed was Dr. Matt because he was in surgery so we'll have to find a way to photoshop him in.
That was it. There was no more avoiding. It was noon so we were already technically late to infusion, but they take you when you get there. We walked down the long 2nd floor hallway past all the empty chairs to the elevator. I didn't want to push that button. From the beginning I said I would never need to go to the 3rd floor, but here I was. I stood in the elevator for a few seconds staring at the button. Greg thought he pushed it but it never lite up so we found ourselves down on floor one--the perfect chance to escape, but I didn't, of course. Instead, I reached over and pressed it--floor 3--then held my breathe as we ascended to the top floor. The elevator doors opened and I sighed a breath of relief. It looked just like the second floor but different colors. I don't know what I was expecting. There was the same long waiting area looking out over the long windows in the courtyard that was now under construction for their five story tower expansion. There were what seemed like hundreds of chairs filled with very few people. I went to the checkin desk just like I did on floor two. A nice lady named Donna greeted me. "I'm a newbie," I admitted. "This is my first time to the third floor." I told her my story of my first day there with Dale the volunteer and how I didn't even know what "the infusion floor" meant. She laughed. She said they were all nice up there and I would be taken good care of. Instead of labels, she put a hospital armband on me explaining they want to make absolute sure they are administering the correct drugs to the correct person. I asked her if they had water back there as I was quickly reaching my limit of being active. She said yes they had water and juice and would even serve me lunch. Wow, you can't beat that!
We sat down in two of those empty chairs waiting to be called back, which didn't take long. The aid escorted us back to the center area of the building where, on the second floor the exam rooms are located. On floor three, it's a large open area all the way to the windows on the other side of the building, but it is divided by low cubicles. It was really nice. There were private rooms with beds on the wall against the waiting area if you didn't feel good and wanted to lay down to receive your treatment. Then the rest of the area was filled with cubicles each with a comfortable looking recliner and a chair. A nurse sat at the end between the two cubicles so it looked like a 2:1 ratio of care. They lead me to the best seat in the house--by the window overlooking the parking lot--and said there was no guarantee I could get this seat every time, then laughed. Unfortunately Greg's seat wasn't near as comfortable as mine. Cheryl was my nurse and I explained this was my first time, so she said she would explain every step and she did. She was great.
It is up to the nurse to read the lab work and do the calculations for the chemo that is ordered. They calculate your weight, height and body mass along with your lab results to determine how much of the doctor-ordered medicines you will receive. After they do the calculation, a second nurse does it as well to check accuracy. Then they order the medicine from the pharmacist who also looks over the calculations. First there are three pre medications. Dexamethasone is an anti-inflammatory and immunosuppressant steroid that helps prevent reactions. In addition, I would receive Benadryl to help prevent reactions and finally Pepcid to help with stomach irritation. They infuse all of those in within 15 minutes. Benadryl usually knocks me out when I take it at home, which is why I rarely take it. This was even more potent. It didn't take long before the room started spinning and I became "drunk" as though I had had one too many margarita's. I was trying to stay focused because the building Chaplin had come by. He recognized me and while he wasn't the hospital Chaplin we had talked to in the hospital, he had come to see me when I was less conscious. I enjoyed talking to him and especially praying with him, but I was glad when he left so I could tell the nurse of my crazy head. When I did, she said I should not be feeling that way. She went to check with someone and returned saying it was probably because we put the Benadryl in too quickly but it would be okay. There is a 30 minute wait before they start the chemo drug, Taxol. During this time Cheryl carefully explained the known side effects and when I should call the clinic. Again, she did a great job.
Finally it was time. The pharmacist brought out the Taxol and we were started. I was so glad because I could barely stay awake by then. It was supposed to take an hour from here. They brought me a warm blanket and I was out. My spinning head forced me to slept. I didn't sleep too long though as I woke up when my left hand felt tingly and funny. It was tingly and numb in my ring and pinky fingers a down my hand and wrist. When I asked the nurse about it, she stopped the infusion immediately. She explained that was a reaction and called Dr. C. By the time Dr. C called her back, the tingling had gotten better. She started the infusion on half the speed this time. When I tolerated that for a bit, she increased it back to full speed. Almost immediately my feet and legs went numb. Following Dr. C's orders, she reduced it back to half speed and gave me some Ativan--great, another sleepy drug. The tingling mostly went away. She explained that my infusions will probably have to take longer because of my reactions. Instead of planning 2.5 hours, we should plan 3.5 to 4 hours.
When we were finally finished, she removed the tape and needle accessing my port after doing the same flush routine they did downstairs at the lab. When I stood up, I was very wobbly so she and Greg both insisted on a wheelchair to take me downstairs. I hated that. But that was it. We were in the car and on the way home. I crashed immediately having to forgo my visit with my grandma and Aunt Mary, though I vaguely remember telling Greg to take me there and him saying okay knowing I was just talking. In Globe I got a small snack and milkshake and though I slept more on the way to Safford, by the time we arrived home at night, my head had cleared up.
So that's it--the story of my first day of chemotherapy. It was a great learning experience and as I repeat it every week, I'm sure the details will become not only more familiar, but more clear. As always, I had lots of support from text messages and FB posts, which helped keep my anxiety down for the day. But honestly, I wasn't really worried. How can you be worried when you know this is finally the first step in reaching the cure. I focused on that all day. I realize chemotherapy is a mountain in itself, but it is a path I have to climb to reach the cure, so focusing on chemotherapy as the path to the cure makes this very doable.
We thought we'd come to Mesa yesterday, but once I went to have my nails done, my energy was gone and I didn't feel like making the trip. It seems my endurance still maxes out at about an hour and a half no matter what I'm doing. So this morning we left by 6 AM for our first day of chemo.
We started at Preston's signing some paperwork for him to move into a little larger apartment. His current apartment is just over 400 sq ft and I can't tell you the number of times we've all stayed with him along with Mike and Suzie and even Brooklyn. We would fill the place with air mattresses and he never complained. The new place will be twice the size with a den where we'll put an extra bed so that in itselfe will help a ton and I won't feel so bad imposing.
After the paperwork, we arrived at the MD Anderson Cancer Center at 10 AM as scheduled. First I reported to the lab center. A young lady named Jesse took me back to do my labs and once she learned it was my first time getting my port accessed, she was careful to explain every step. We had been told to place a glob of the prescription lidocaine cream on the port area an hour before coming. She said it was really good we did that as she removed the band aide and started poking around the area with her fingers feeling for the bumps that mark the corners of the port. The Bard Power Port is a triangle shape device about the size of a bottle cap and the diameter of a quarter. The top looks like a mini trampoline with a membrane of some kind stretched over it. It is a self-sealing silicon septum so after a special needle accesses it, it reseals itself. Under the septum (trampoline) is a small basin. On the top of the port, each corner has bumps called Palpation Points on the rim of the port so the person accessing it can absolutely feel all edges of the port and determine the positioning. The port is surgically inserted under my skin by my left clavicle bone with nothing sticking out of the skin. The trampoline-like membrane is attached to a sealed basin which has a long catheter running out of it and is inserted into one of my large central veins that goes to my heart. This way medications or fluids can be delivered directly to my blood stream, and blood samples can be taken from my blood stream with no need to have repeated sticks in my wrist and veins.
Jesse spent time pushing on the port making sure she had a good handle on the positioning of it. Then she brought out the supplies, which included a mask for her and I to wear because this was a sterile procedure. She started by cleaning the skin with Chloraprep which was this cool sponge on a wand she punctured that contained antiseptic which fed into the attached sponge. It was like one of those dish soap scrubbers that has soap in the handle that comes out the sponge once you start rubbing the dishes. She then put on a special solution around the area so the tape would come off easily later. She sprayed a freeze antiseptic spray on the area right on top of the port for 10 seconds which also helped numb the area. Then she inserted the PowerLoc needle or what she called a Huber needle, which is basically a the special curved needle that won't hurt the port. I didn't even feel a pinch when the needle when in. "That doesn't feel right," she said and quickly made an adjustment saying "there we go." This made me realize experience is needed to access the port. She confirmed it takes doing it a hundred times or so to really get a good feel when it's right. I was glad to have someone who could recognized that. She tested it by making sure it could pull blood then rinsed it with some saline.
She told me my orders were for a CBC which was a Complete Blood Count screening and a Hepatic Function Pannel for the Liver. The blood count was mainly so they could watch my red blood cells, my white blood cells and my platelets. The liver screen is to make sure my liver isn't being hurt throughout the treatment. Once she pulled the tubes of blood out of the port, she flushed the port with two vials of saline and did what they call a Heparin lock on the port, which basically means they fill the port with Heparin to keep it from clotting. She finished by covering the whole area with clear cellophane band aide called Tegaderm which sealed around the edges and made a sterile pocket type environment so just the tubing came out.
From there we headed to the second floor. Last week the clinic had given me a large section to read on chemotherapy so Michelle, Dr. C's assistant, wanted to meet with us to answer questions we had after reading the material. Of course, I had a ton. She carefully listened and answered each one. I started with Greg's big questions, "Am I for sure going to lose my hair? Some of the literature said thinning?" I knew the answer to that, but we were both hoping it had changed. It hadn't. She confirmed my hair would for sure fall out. We went through a serious of about 10 more questions and Michelle was able to carefully explain them all but one. "What stage am I?" Because staging depended on the last pathology report as well as the first, we had never been clearly told. We think Dr. Matt might have said Stage 3A, but we weren't positive. And it's not that it matters so much, I just really wanted to know. Michelle said she would research that and get back to us for sure.
Even though it was getting close to time to make the dreaded rise to the 3rd floor, I wanted pictures with everyone before I lost my hair. They were all so accommodating. As they came in, I told them about my Pretty in Pink party and they were all so excited. We got a picture with Michelle and Lisa, assistance and nurse to Dr. C. They tracked down Dr. Byrum and Melissa, so I got a picture with them. Even Dr. C stopped in and took a picture. And we got pictures with Adrianna, my nurse navigator, and the two sweetest nurses there, Tia and Betsy. I was so happy and that meant the world to me. The only one we missed was Dr. Matt because he was in surgery so we'll have to find a way to photoshop him in.
That was it. There was no more avoiding. It was noon so we were already technically late to infusion, but they take you when you get there. We walked down the long 2nd floor hallway past all the empty chairs to the elevator. I didn't want to push that button. From the beginning I said I would never need to go to the 3rd floor, but here I was. I stood in the elevator for a few seconds staring at the button. Greg thought he pushed it but it never lite up so we found ourselves down on floor one--the perfect chance to escape, but I didn't, of course. Instead, I reached over and pressed it--floor 3--then held my breathe as we ascended to the top floor. The elevator doors opened and I sighed a breath of relief. It looked just like the second floor but different colors. I don't know what I was expecting. There was the same long waiting area looking out over the long windows in the courtyard that was now under construction for their five story tower expansion. There were what seemed like hundreds of chairs filled with very few people. I went to the checkin desk just like I did on floor two. A nice lady named Donna greeted me. "I'm a newbie," I admitted. "This is my first time to the third floor." I told her my story of my first day there with Dale the volunteer and how I didn't even know what "the infusion floor" meant. She laughed. She said they were all nice up there and I would be taken good care of. Instead of labels, she put a hospital armband on me explaining they want to make absolute sure they are administering the correct drugs to the correct person. I asked her if they had water back there as I was quickly reaching my limit of being active. She said yes they had water and juice and would even serve me lunch. Wow, you can't beat that!
We sat down in two of those empty chairs waiting to be called back, which didn't take long. The aid escorted us back to the center area of the building where, on the second floor the exam rooms are located. On floor three, it's a large open area all the way to the windows on the other side of the building, but it is divided by low cubicles. It was really nice. There were private rooms with beds on the wall against the waiting area if you didn't feel good and wanted to lay down to receive your treatment. Then the rest of the area was filled with cubicles each with a comfortable looking recliner and a chair. A nurse sat at the end between the two cubicles so it looked like a 2:1 ratio of care. They lead me to the best seat in the house--by the window overlooking the parking lot--and said there was no guarantee I could get this seat every time, then laughed. Unfortunately Greg's seat wasn't near as comfortable as mine. Cheryl was my nurse and I explained this was my first time, so she said she would explain every step and she did. She was great.
It is up to the nurse to read the lab work and do the calculations for the chemo that is ordered. They calculate your weight, height and body mass along with your lab results to determine how much of the doctor-ordered medicines you will receive. After they do the calculation, a second nurse does it as well to check accuracy. Then they order the medicine from the pharmacist who also looks over the calculations. First there are three pre medications. Dexamethasone is an anti-inflammatory and immunosuppressant steroid that helps prevent reactions. In addition, I would receive Benadryl to help prevent reactions and finally Pepcid to help with stomach irritation. They infuse all of those in within 15 minutes. Benadryl usually knocks me out when I take it at home, which is why I rarely take it. This was even more potent. It didn't take long before the room started spinning and I became "drunk" as though I had had one too many margarita's. I was trying to stay focused because the building Chaplin had come by. He recognized me and while he wasn't the hospital Chaplin we had talked to in the hospital, he had come to see me when I was less conscious. I enjoyed talking to him and especially praying with him, but I was glad when he left so I could tell the nurse of my crazy head. When I did, she said I should not be feeling that way. She went to check with someone and returned saying it was probably because we put the Benadryl in too quickly but it would be okay. There is a 30 minute wait before they start the chemo drug, Taxol. During this time Cheryl carefully explained the known side effects and when I should call the clinic. Again, she did a great job.
Finally it was time. The pharmacist brought out the Taxol and we were started. I was so glad because I could barely stay awake by then. It was supposed to take an hour from here. They brought me a warm blanket and I was out. My spinning head forced me to slept. I didn't sleep too long though as I woke up when my left hand felt tingly and funny. It was tingly and numb in my ring and pinky fingers a down my hand and wrist. When I asked the nurse about it, she stopped the infusion immediately. She explained that was a reaction and called Dr. C. By the time Dr. C called her back, the tingling had gotten better. She started the infusion on half the speed this time. When I tolerated that for a bit, she increased it back to full speed. Almost immediately my feet and legs went numb. Following Dr. C's orders, she reduced it back to half speed and gave me some Ativan--great, another sleepy drug. The tingling mostly went away. She explained that my infusions will probably have to take longer because of my reactions. Instead of planning 2.5 hours, we should plan 3.5 to 4 hours.
When we were finally finished, she removed the tape and needle accessing my port after doing the same flush routine they did downstairs at the lab. When I stood up, I was very wobbly so she and Greg both insisted on a wheelchair to take me downstairs. I hated that. But that was it. We were in the car and on the way home. I crashed immediately having to forgo my visit with my grandma and Aunt Mary, though I vaguely remember telling Greg to take me there and him saying okay knowing I was just talking. In Globe I got a small snack and milkshake and though I slept more on the way to Safford, by the time we arrived home at night, my head had cleared up.
So that's it--the story of my first day of chemotherapy. It was a great learning experience and as I repeat it every week, I'm sure the details will become not only more familiar, but more clear. As always, I had lots of support from text messages and FB posts, which helped keep my anxiety down for the day. But honestly, I wasn't really worried. How can you be worried when you know this is finally the first step in reaching the cure. I focused on that all day. I realize chemotherapy is a mountain in itself, but it is a path I have to climb to reach the cure, so focusing on chemotherapy as the path to the cure makes this very doable.
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