Tears, Confusion, and Missing Eyelashes..........

6/4/13--Tuesday--Day 234--Only 7 1/2 More Weeks of Chemo

So I am in week two of the three-week cycle.  Week one started becoming a challenge Sunday evening a few hours after my last post.  We were in Albuquerque still helping on the balloon chase crew.  Steve, the balloonist, invited us all over for a barbecue.  My brain had started to feel fuzzy by early Sunday evening, but I really wanted to go.  Steve's beautiful daughter, Maddy, had just graduated, but I had forgotten her card and present at home, so I decided to stop and get a card and some cash and send her present later.  Greg dropped me at the door of the store and I went in and found a card without issue.  Standing in line, I decided to use my debit card, something I rarely do, to get some extra cash to put in the card rather then a check.  When I arrived at the register, I became completely confused.  I stared at the three credit cards in my purse, and for the life of me, couldn't figure out which was my debit card.  I carefully looked at each card and could not figure out which was a credit card and which was my debit card.  I was embarrassed, confused, frustrated, and scared all at once.  My heart began to race, I broke out in a cold sweat, and tears rushed into my eyes.  "I'm so sorry," I squeaked to the cashier as I backed out of line.  "I'm not sure which card I need to use."  She was so very sweet as I told her I would be back in a few minutes.  Shaking, I grabbed my phone and called Greg asking him to come inside.  Tears were streaming down my face when he came in, obviously worried about what was wrong.  I could tell he was confused by what happened, but he went back in line with me and helped me get the cash I needed.  As we walked out, I sobbed as I tried to explain that I had no idea what my debit card looked like.  He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight as I tried to calm down before returning to the vehicle and our friends.  It scared us both.  Later that night, I saw Greg talking with one of our friends and explaining what happened.  I could see the fear in his eyes.  I think, for the first time, we both realized how important it was for him to always be with me.  It was truly a very real example of just how crazy these drugs make my mental state.

Monday we made it home without incident, but the fogginess continued to increase.  By Monday evening, which was the first day off of steroids, all of the panic and anxiety set in, just like it had with the first round.  My body actually tremored and I couldn't settle anywhere for long.  As the anxiety increased, I couldn't focus or sit still.  I finally decided to sit outside in the gazebo, watch the sunset as I tried to stay calm, and just survive what I knew would pass.  I sat there for two hours trying to logically reason myself through this before finally breaking down in tears.  It was the craziest, most mixed up feeling.  Greg came out to check on me and, just like the last time, I was short with him, which he didn't deserve.  I snapped at everything he said, but he hung in there staying calm, wiping my tears, and showing nothing but love and support.  I was so glad to finally just go to bed that night.  Monday nights are definitely the start of the worst three days of the whole cycle.

Tuesday and Wednesday were exactly like they had been in the previous cycle.  I didn't drive because of the fogginess, but I worked each day without incident.  Eating became the huge challenge it had been before.  I struggled to eat anything because everything tasted horrible.

Wednesday I had a great surprise, but the suddenness of it threw me completely.  My daughter, Brooklyn, has been attending college in Idaho.  She was supposed to come home for the month of June, but some changes in Idaho had caused her to change the trip home to July instead of June.  When she first told me, I was devastated.  I needed her home in June.  This race was becoming such a challenge, and I needed the distraction and the emotional support in June.  On Tuesday she called me and told me she was going camping (in Idaho) with some friends.  Like any mom, I worried about her Tuesday night being out in the woods, but she was out of cell phone contact.  Wednesday, while I was sitting at my desk, Brooklyn came walking through the door.  I would like to say I was completely surprised, but honestly, it was more like complete confusion.  Instead of my mind being surprised to see her, all I kept saying is "How are you here? You're supposed to be camping."  I literally could not figure out how she could be in my office when she was camping in Idaho.  Again, another example of how crazy the drugs make you.

Thursday morning as Greg drove me to work, he asked me how was I able to work, but didn't feel comfortable driving.  It was interesting because I can function at work very productively.  I can focus, produce, answer questions, and work, really, without an issue.  What seemed to throw me off is any sudden change.  It seems like if something unexpected happens, or something that is completely our of the normal routine of things, I can't process it.  That is exactly what had happened at the store in Albuquerque.  I always use my credit card and rarely my debit.  When I suddenly tried to do something completely different than my "normal" routine, my mind wouldn't process it.  When Brooklyn walked in the door, my mind wouldn't process it.  I just stayed completely confused as to how she could be in two places at the same time.  So that's why I was afraid of driving.  There are too many quick decisions that have to be made and too much quick change to which you have to respond.

So week one was pretty much exactly how it had been the first cycle, other than this time I knew the bad stuff wouldn't last.  Having Brooklyn home completely lifted my spirits.  She will probably never know just how much I needed her, and I will always be grateful her plans worked out to bring her home to me for the month of June rather than July.

Though Brooklyn's return brought a few happy days, Saturday I was completely overwhelmed again. We had decided to head to Mesa Saturday to hang out with family and friends.  Saturday morning as I was getting ready to go, devastation hit--overnight, most of my eyelashes had fallen out.  There were only 23 lashes left on my right eye--yes, I counted every single one.  My heart sank and I truly bawled.  I screamed inside my head as I thought, "Really? Eight weeks to go and you have to take my last piece of dignity?"  I cried for two hours as I tried to apply mascara to the few lashes that remained.  My right eye had more than my left, but was still spotted with huge chunks missing.  My eyebrows had completely thinned to almost single strands on the outsides.  What was I going to do?  I have never worn any makeup except mascara, but I have worn mascara since I was a teenager.  I have never gone without it.  I wear waterproof, so I even wear it at the lake.  Even in the hospital during my surgeries, I had mascara on.  Now, everyone was going to see me not only without mascara, but with no eye lashes at all.  I was humiliated, devastated, furious, overwhelmed, and at a loss.  Once again Greg came upstairs trying to calm me.  I sobbed as I packed my bag.  I cried most of the way to Mesa.  I just couldn't believe I had to endure another blow.  I truly felt worse about this than losing my hair.  I had prepared for the hair loss but prayed I wouldn't have to lose my eyelashes.  And since I had kept them up to this point, I assumed I had escaped that horrible loss--WRONG.

Being around family helped distract me from my devastation.  We hung out at my Aunt Mary's with my dad, my sister, Sharon, and her family from Michigan, and my beautiful niece Jennifer, who was nine months pregnant and expecting in the next two days.  We had two sets of friends in the Phoenix area who were holding parties, but I was in week two when my blood counts drop, so we decided it wouldn't be good for me to be around crowds of people.  Plus, with my new eyelash issue, I couldn't even fathom being around people.  But I also knew Greg really needed a break, so while I was surrounded with family, I sent him off to both gatherings to represent the two of us.  He texted me pictures of him with our friends, and I could tell he was relaxed and having fun, a break he really needed.  He has been my care-taker, companion, and partner through every single step of this.  In the mean time, I played games and visited with my family.  We stayed the night at Preston's, and Sunday morning I woke crying again.  I just couldn't get over my eyelashes.  We laid in bed four hours talking, crying, and just being together supporting each other before returning to my aunts.  I managed two short trips to the store, one Saturday and one Sunday.  On Saturday, I struggled after staying at the store too long and had to sit on a bench when the fatigue brought cold sweats and tears.  Sunday's trip went better.

Surprisingly, yesterday and today I have felt pretty good.  I have not had the severe fatigue I experienced on the second week during the first cycle, at least not yet.  Both evening I have come home from work and accomplished a few little tasks rather than sleeping in the recliner, so that is good.  We'll see how the rest of this week goes.

While I have started each morning crying as I look in the mirror and try to figure out how to hang on to the last few eyelashes left, I know in my heart it is a futile effort.  There's no way the eyelashes left will stay another seven and a half weeks.  The left side of my head above my ear has finally lost almost all hair.  It's the first truly bald area with no hair whatsoever and if feels really odd to feel; it's almost sticky.  The rest of my head still has a super thin layer of hair, but I'm pretty sure that will change in the next couple of weeks.

This second cycle has been easier only in the fact that I know what to expect, and that the symptoms from each week don't last all three weeks.  And while I spill all of my fears and feelings here on the blog, I have kept a positive attitude by focusing on the idea that I only really have seven and a half more weeks of chemo.