Final Chemo Was The Most Challenging Of All.......

7/14/13--Sunday--Day 274--What A Stormy End, But The Sun Has Come Out.

I want to start this evening by paying tribute to you, the 150-190 loyal readers of this blog, who have supported me by reading my posts and sharing my story.  Thank you for following my story through this blog as well as sharing it with others.  It is so comforting to know that blogging about my experiences and feelings in dealing with breast cancer has truly helped people understand what I have gone through, and even more importantly, it has truly helped others who are going through it as well.  That is so encouraging because I know I'm making something good out of this bad thing that has happend to me.  That helps me so much and I believe I am a stronger person because of this blog and your support through reading it so thank you!

I'm sorry I didn't post about my last chemo until now.  Honestly, it was a really rough journey and until it passed, I just didn't want to complain about it.  Greg kept encouraging me to blog, but I just felt so horrible, and I didn't want to talk about it at all.  Interestingly, I was really dreading this last treatment.  Everyone kept saying, "Piece of cake.  It's your last one.  You can do this," but that's really like saying, "No problem.  You only have to run through the fire one more time.  You got this."  I think the more people said it, the more frustrated I became.  Treatment three was so hard. I just didn't want to do it again, final time or not.  And sure enough, treatment three paled in comparison to treatment four.  In fact, today marks day four of week two in the last chemo cycle and yesterday was finally the first day where I actually felt human again.  Treatment four, my final round of of Cytoxan, Adriamycin, and 5-FU, took me down hard and made for a very long and challenging first week of final chemo.

It all started with my final chemo being scheduled for Wednesday, July 3rd since the cancer center would be closed for July 4th on Thursday.  We drove over that morning to find the lab absolutely packed.  Like me, I'm sure many of their Thursday patients were trying to squeeze into Wednesday because of the holiday.  We started in the lab with Heather accessing my port.  Unfortunately, that meant that not only was Cheryl going to be gone for my final treatment, but Heather was working lab that day so wouldn't be doing my infusion either.  I was disappointed, but Heather was super nice and set me up with Traci for infusion.  My port was cranky, as always, but this time it was clogged.  Heather had to do the Rotor Rutor thing again, which meant putting a special solution in my port to eat away the gunky stuff so it would flow.  That would throw us behind on getting lab results before we met with Dr. C., so we decided to have someone draw my labs from my arm while my port was "cooking".  I guess that was good since that will be the way they draw my labs shortly anyways.  Once chemo is over, there is no real reason to leave my port in, so soon my port will be removed and I'll go back to having labs drawn from my arm during my doctors visits.

It all worked out and before I knew it, we were up on the second floor meeting with Dr. C.  Big questions for this visit included, "Why the heck was my hair suddenly growing?"  Now I know when people think about cancer patients losing their hair, they think only of head hair, eye lashes, and eye brows.  Keep in mind I lost absolutely all hair anywhere on my body.  I lost all my arm and leg hair, all facial hair, I even lost all my nose hair.  Now that was a funny one.  I kept showing people my new bar trick--when I would pinch my nostrils together, they would stick until I pulled them apart.  It was funny because you never really know the important role something as insignificant as nose hair plays until you lose it.  But suddenly, during week three following treatment three, all my hair started growing.  My head started feeling like a soft Q-Tip, I had fuzz all over my face, and I actually picked up a razor for the first time in months and shaved the little stubbles that showed on my legs.  I was elated with what looked like hundreds of lower eyelashes that had started popping out, and encouraged as the inside thicker areas of my eyebrows started emerging as well.  But if hair wasn't supposed to grow until chemo was over, how the heck was it growing so much now?  And, the more important question, was it going to all fall out again after my final chemo four and have to start all over again?  The answer--Dr. C. said hair is just so unpredictable and there really wasn't an explanation or prediction.  So, the hair mystery began.

While the new hair growth was great news, chemo had to get one last punch in for my final treatment.  I showed Dr. C. one of my toenails that the previous day had just started squirting out puss.  Keep in mind, my feet are still mostly numb so I never felt pain or irritation.  I just suddenly felt wetness between my big toe and the next one and looked down to find puss.  After examining it, she put me on an antibiotic and told me there was a good chance I would lose that toenail and maybe others.  Then she reassured me that toenail loss is not unusual with chemo.  Really?  In the last chemo treatment and just as everything is starting to rejuvenate, to regrow, and I'm going to lose toenails?  I actually had to laugh.  While it really wasn't funny, but more irritating and infuriating, I really did just have to laugh.  It was just so ironic, so anticlimactic, so minuscule that it was actually funny.  Whatever.  At this point, really?  What did it matter?  I've lost just about everything other "pretty part" on my body.  Of course I needed to lose toenails too.  I was also frustrated with myself though.  I had stopped doing artificial nails when I first started chemo after being advised by the doctor that they really do put you at risk for infection.  I had never had pedicures or had my toenails done so I figured I would substitute getting pedicures to help me have a least one part on my body still represent some form of feminine.  I had started having my toenails done (Greg too to show is support for me--but that's another story, lol) just before my surgery in January.  Cheyanne, a friend who grew up with Preston, has been coming to our house to do our toenails throughout this whole ordeal.  I knew everything was more clean and sterile since I wasn't going to a place where hundreds of people get their feet done.  Cheyanne had been doing gel nails in different styles to represent breast cancer.  I had had mine done only three times since January. It seems like this last time may have caused the problem, or maybe it didn't and it would have happened anyways, who know.  All I know is now toenail loss was pretty imminent.  Oh well, another story to tell.

Other answers Dr. C. was able to provide included Dr. Byrum, my breast surgeon, would be in charge of taking my port out.  We will see her at the end of July and learn more about when that will be scheduled.  Also, Dr. C. won't see me again until radiation is over so sometime the week of September 18th.  Instead, I will see Dr. Grade every week through radiation.  Finally, I asked if we were doing tumor markers for ovarian cancer, why had we not already started tumor markers for breast cancer?  Dr. C. said there are no tumor markers for breast cancer.  I was surprised.  I guess mammograms and scans are the only way to really watch for breast tumors and I would be getting those about every six months.  So that was it.  With that we were headed upstairs for the final infusion.

Before heading up to the third floor, I went in to the Boutique of Hope to see my friend Rita.  She had been so wonderful helping with hats and scarfs and I had grown to just adore her.  I was disappointed to find her not there--she only works Thursdays--so I'll have to see her on my next doctors visit.  So my Thursday friends all seemed to be gone for the day.  Cheryl was on vacation, my friend Heather who was the doctors receptionist, was on vacation, Rita from the gift shop didn't work Wednesdays, and I would soon find out my two favorite volunteers, Sue and Kim, also didn't work Wednesdays.....hmmm I was missing celebrating with some of my favorite people who made me smile.

Up on the infusion floor, everyone was super busy as well.  While we waited to be called back, Margo, one of our favorite nurses from my hospital stay, was working calling patients back.  We hadn't seen Margo since my surgery.  Our friends, Mike and Suzie, who had stayed at the hospital so much with us, had come for my last chemo.  Margo instantly recognized the four of us sitting there and we were delighted to see her.  It was like everything was full-circle.  What started with Margo and a long hospital stay was ending with my last chemo and seeing her again.  That made us all smile as we stopped and chatted with her for a bit.  I had become friends with so many of the nurses there.  Bubbly Carri-Ann, the movie star nurse who was filmed during one of my visits.  Sarah, the former Navy submarine nurse who first loved Greg's chair that he brought to every chemo.  Haley, who always took my vitals and took us to the infusion station.  Sue and Kim, the two ladies who volunteer, always making sure every patient had food and drinks.  Fred, the pharmacy tech who always delivered the medicines to the nurses--I always requested he make mine strawberry flavored and always got a smile from him.  There were just so many wonderful, caring, smiling people who work in infusion and make something that can be very intimidating, depressing, and scary seem so much easier.  I can't tell you how much I appreciate every single person up there.

I settled in to Traci's station and once we got started, everything ran like clockwork.  As I sat there and watch each of the medications run drop by drop down from the IV bag into the tube and slowly make it's way into my body, I thought about the long, treacherous journey chemotherapy had been.  I dreaded the week to come, knowing what these drugs were about to do to my body.  I knew what was coming--the red flashes, the nausea, the fatigue.  Three more weeks and I was done.  Wow, that sounded amazing.

My dad joined us just as we started infusion.  I was so glad he was able to be there.  Besides Greg, my dad has been my biggest supporter.  He has held my hand, stayed by my side, read every post, and heard my cries, my fears and my joys.  I wanted him to be with us to celebrate this ending.

Just as the last bit of the last medicine was finishing, the great anticipated celebration started to form.  Heather came up from the lab and 15 other smiling nurses formed a loving circle around us.  To the tune of the Oscar Mayer wiener song, they sang, "Our patients have the cutest S M I L E's, Our patients have the sweetest H E A R T's.  We love to see you every day, but if you ask us then we'll say.....Ring your bell go out the door, cuz no more chemo anymore!"  What a perfect send off.  What a perfect way to feel loved and celebrated.  What a perfect ending to five months--22 weeks--153 days of chemo.  It was just perfect.

After tearful hugs and many thank you's, we left the infusion floor, for what I hope is the very last time in my life, other than to visit the wonderful people up there.  We exchanged e-mails with Heather with promises to keep in touch and headed to Texas Roadhouse with Greg and I, my dad, Mike and Suzie, and Preston, who had made it up to chemo to join the celebration.

After a celebration dinner, we spent the night in Mesa and a relaxing morning July 4th sleeping in and being lazy.  My dad, Greg, Preston, Yuri and I attended my cousin, Sean, and his beautiful bride, Cedar's wedding that evening.  It was a good place to be.  We celebrated my chemo ending, and a new couple's blissful beginnings.  And while the day also marked one year from when we lost my mother, being together as a family in celebration helped us focus on moving forward from all the tragedies this last year has brought.

We traveled home after the wedding, and though it was late, it was really nice to sleep in our own bed and wake up to a relaxing weekend.  I knew the steroids would help me through Thursday, Friday and Saturday and this time Sunday would be the "come down" day.  What I didn't expect was for the next eight days, all of the bad reactions I've described before coming on so much stronger than before.  My red flashes lasted the first six days instead of three and happened so much more often.  The diarrhea was constant and exhausting.  I had more nausea than ever, but the pills helped each time.  What was incredibly stronger than ever was the amount of severe fatigue and overall feeling of yuckiness.  I just felt awful.  Many days that first week I cried, which I really haven't done much of through this whole thing.  Greg was so patient, as always.  Each morning I struggled to get ready, and then Greg drove me to work.  At lunch he would come to pick me up, and with my feet dragging, he would bring me home where I would sleep in the recliner trying to gather enough strength to go back for the afternoon.  I can proudly say, as crappy as I was feeling, I didn't miss a day of work.  I definitely could have stayed home that first week, as bad as I was feeling, but I knew that would not do anyone any good.  It was better to trudge on and keep my mind busy and I had so many important projects at work.  Each evening Greg would come pick me up and tears would fill my eyes on the way home.  He would help me inside to the recliner where I would cry until I fell asleep for the first two or three hours of the evening.  But then I would wake feeling better emotionally and somewhat physically.  All I could think of was how I couldn't wait to be normal again.  Day after day I saw no improvement and I just wanted to feel better, feel normal, and be done with all of this.

As Wednesday came and the first week ended, I felt slightly better, but not as good as I had felt in the past.  I went to bed frustrated and wondering if I was ever going to feel better again.  For several week we had planned a lake trip for the upcoming weekend--the end of week two--because it was the only plausible weekend left when we could go to the lake.  While I knew I would be most fatigued and most susceptible to infection that week, we also knew it was the only other overnight lake trip we could see fitting in this season.  We have only been to the lake once for a day trip, and once for a one night trip this whole season.  I so wanted to go, but I knew if I didn't feel better Thursday, the trip would have to be canceled.  We planned to go up Friday morning with Mike and Suzie, and Preston was going to meet us there.  Suzie was covering most of the food and I knew everyone would pitch in and help, so if my energy level wasn't up, I would just relax and recover.  Apache Lake is my absolute favorite place in the world to be.  It is so inspiring, so rejuvenating, and so relaxing and as anxious, uptight, frustrated, and sick as I had been, I just really wanted to be there.

I was so thankful when I woke up Thursday morning feeling better.  I actually drove to work myself, which was encouraging.  At lunch, I came home, but after putting a few things together for the lake trip and then eating, severe fatigue struck again.  I rested in the recliner, and canceled my afternoon meeting.   I was frustrated once again.  Why was this so hard?  I slept for about 45 minutes before returning to work.  I worked the afternoon, but by the time I got home, I had no energy to pack.  Mike and Suzie had something come up and cancelled on us, so if we were going to keep our lake plan, it would just be Greg, Preston and me.  As I sat in the recliner, something just told me to plan to go and that everything would work out.  Sure enough, Friday morning I felt human again for the first time in nine days.  I was so happy and so ready to just escape.  We invited friends from Phoenix, Paul and Diane, to join us at the lake and they were super excited and agreed to come up Saturday.  I took the morning slow making a new food plan but we were still on the road before noon.  As we pulled in to Apache Lake, we enjoyed a drenching rain shower and light show and then set up camp.   Greg and I had the evening alone as Preston wouldn't be coming until Saturday as well.  All of the pressure, stress, anxiety, and frustration escaped as we sat on shore and took in the majesty of the surroundings of Upper Burnt Corral.  We were completely alone on the beach.  It was amazing that no other person was there.  It was just like it was supposed to be.  Saturday morning, I finally felt human again.  I had strength, energy, and encouragement.  My spirits were up and we had an amazing day with Preston and Paul and Diane.  Late that evening after dinner, I had a small wave of diarrea and fatigue set in, but I just laid down and enjoyed the rest of the evening from the bed.  Sunday we spend another great day on the lake, despite my first toenail actually falling off.  Electrical tape kept the second one on while I actually had enough strength to wake surf for the first time in a year.  We packed up and left around two, came home and unpacked, and after a short rest in the recliner, I feel better physically and emotionally than I have in weeks.  It's over.  And while it was a really rough ride, it was a great way to end it at the lake.

So chemo four, the final chemo, definitely was the most challenging of them all.  I was physically exhausted and sick, mentally broken down, and very discouraged as the effects were more severe and more long-lasting than any of the previous chemos.  And that makes sense.  My body is done.  It has been beaten up with these poisons and had its fill.  I couldn't be happier that this part of the journey is over.  So next weekend brings our trip to California to celebrate Preston's 21st birthday.   And a sudden surprise, Brooklyn, who was flying in to California to meet us, is actually going to drive back home with us after the trip and spend another four weeks home.  She'll use her return flight to fly back in mid August just before we head there to move her into the dorms.  I'm a little worried about the California trip--the heat, the humidity, the sun, the lines and the people.  I am going to call guest services at the parks and see if there is a pass I might be able to get to help with the lines as I don't think I'll have the energy to stand in hour plus long lines.  If not, I'll find a nice air conditioned place to hang out while the others enjoy the rides.  Last year when we were in Orlando and I had just had my foot surgery, the parks were very accommodating for us so I am hoping they will be in California as well.  Some have been concerned about me making the trip, but like everything else, cancer has taken enough from me.  I'm not going to give up anything to it that I don't have to.  Besides, how many sons want to spend their 21st birthday celebrating with family?  I'm not missing this, that's for sure.

So I have around a 20 day break from this crazy race before we start the final leg of radiation.  And while phase two of chemo brought a huge, dark, scary storm, it appears the sun had finally come out again.