Busy Days

 Tuesday, September 8th was my last day in the classroom with my kids. It was hard looking around my room before turning the lights off, closing the door, and leaving that night, knowing that my classroom would not be mine for the next 24 weeks. It was hard not knowing who would be taking care of my kids. I had only had 14 days with these kids, but they were already mine and there was a special place in my heart for them. It was especially hard knowing that they would have a mix of subs for a couple weeks, maybe more, until they found someone. I felt, and still feel, incredibly guilty about that, but I also know that I can’t put my treatment on hold until they find someone. 

The next day I go to Parkview Heart Institute. Talk about feeling young walking in there. Almost all the patients seemed to be twice my age. I was certainly in the minority age group. They had ordered an echocardiogram to be done before starting chemo, which is pretty routine for people getting my type of chemo. People tend to get echocardiograms confused with EKGs. They are not the same thing. An EKG, or electrocardiogram, is often ordered when you go into the ER and they want to check your heart rhythm because you're having chest pain, breathing problems, dizziness, or they suspect a heart attack. That's when they hook up all the little electrodes all over you. I did not have that done, (though I’ve had one in the past). The echocardiogram is an ultrasound of the heart. It takes pictures, records movement and sounds, and takes measurements. It’s actually the second one I've had in my life. I had one when I was twenty, which is when they found out I have Mitral Valve Prolapse, but it’s very mild. I hoped that was still the case. A couple hours later, they called to let me know that the cardiologist said everything was normal. That was good news. 

After the echo, we drove over for Chemo Education. We got a brief tour of where all the action happens, then we discussed the nitty gritty. I have to show up early to get my port accessed, (except the first time, because they would leave everything accessed from the procedure), they would draw blood, I would meet with my doctor, go over my weight, blood work, symptoms, any changes, etc. I would then head back down for chemo, and they would start mixing up my chemo, based on the appointment I had with my oncologist just a few minutes before. They would give me regular saline solution to help keep me hydrated. And they also give me 3 different drugs to help keep nausea at bay, one being a steroid that would help give me energy and an appetite. The saline and meds take about 45-60 minutes. Then they start the chemo meds. For the first 4 cycles of my chemo, I will be getting AC. The A stands for Adriamycin - aka Red Devil. Not making this up either. You can just guess why it has that nickname. It’s a nasty drug. It’s literally red. It has to get pushed by hand over 10-20 minutes. I have to eat popsicles and eat ice so that my mouth is cold to prevent mouth sores. Chemo doesn’t like to go where it is cold, so that’s why they try to freeze your mouth during that one. Other main symptoms are hair loss, nausea, vomiting, and low blood counts. After they complete that one, they hang the C from the AC. It stands for Cytoxan (I thought about nicknaming it Cyanide). It’s side effects are pretty similar: nausea, fatigue, weakness, low blood count, hair loss. After all that is done, they will unhook my port and put on a Neulasta patch on my arm. This is supposed to promote White Blood Cell counts in your bone marrow. I have to wear it for 27 hours. It is timed to start injecting 26 hours after it has been put on. The side effect of the Neulasta injection, especially for someone young, is bone pain. Guess what they give you for that? Claritin. I never would have guessed. So, I put Claritin on our shopping list before we leave. They also gave me prescriptions for two more nausea drugs and a steroid, plus a lidocaine cream to put on my port so the skin is numb before I arrive for blood draws and chemo. Tylenol can be taken for pain, drinks lots of water, call about any temp over 100.4 (don’t wait for an appointment), use Imodium or Miralax depending on what I need at the moment (add those to the shopping list), make up a mouthwash with salt and baking soda for mouth sores, use plastic silverware if I metal bugs me, be cautious about others being sick around me. That’s just for the first 8 weeks of chemo (4 cycles, 1 go every other week). The second one is called Taxol, which is it’s own special toxin that I’ll discuss when I start it on week 9. On the plus side, I get a free meal while I’m there, so I’m definitely taking advantage of that. Have I mentioned that everybody I have dealt with at Parkview Cancer has just been amazing? Every single one has been so sweet. 

That night I saw Ashley to get my cut. I had texted her about what was going on and told her I needed it short, so that when I buzzed in a few weeks or so, I wasn’t cutting off quite so much. I needed something in between. I’ve never had short hair, so I needed to ease into it a bit. She asked what I was thinking about doing, and I told her I had no idea. She could do a pixie, shave the sides and leave the top long, whatever she wanted. We ended up leaving the top and sides a little longer, and the back short, but layered. She told me that she could shave it when the time came, she has done it before for other clients. Brad is determined that he will do it when the time comes.

Before and after my haircut

Thursday, September 10 is the port at Parkview Randallia.. I was almost late to this appointment trying to get a new student logged in and ready to go from home so that her first day would be smooth. Everyone here was really nice also. I was a little more nervous for this appointment. The biggest procedure I’ve ever had was my wisdom teeth being removed, and that was by a doctor who had known my family since before I was born. Our nurse was nice and had a great sense of humor, which was especially helpful for Brad. The doctor was super nice, and they put me right at ease. The IV in my hand was painful, but I knew it was temporary. Made me glad I was getting the port and not going through that for every chemo treatment and lab draw. They would give me a narcotic and a twilight medicine to essentially knock me out, so I wouldn’t remember anything. I would wake up towards the end and I would be on my way home 20 minutes later. The procedure nurse wheeled me back and we chatted on the way. I was the only port scheduled that day, which was unusual, but they had a bunch scheduled for the next day. She had been doing this for a few decades, so I knew I was in good hands. I was relaxed, my heart rate was 65, I couldn’t see my BP, but I’m pretty sure it was good. The longer I laid there, the more relaxed I became. They got me all prepped and covered, administered the meds, the doc came in, they asked me how I was feeling and how it was affecting me. I told them I was just slightly lightheaded but otherwise fine. They decided to give me another injection of the twilight medicine. Then he gave me lidocaine to numb the area, and that was painless. He was good, of course, the narcotic may have also been working. So I feel him doing all sorts of things, most of which feels like pressure or the port being pushed into place. I start chipping in on their conversation, which kinda caught them off guard I think. Then they started including me in the conversation. We talked about school, where I was from, where I met my husband, different stuff. Towards the end I asked how often people stayed awake for the whole thing. They said it’s not normal. 😂 I went back to the room, and shortly after that I was on my way home. I wore the shoulder strap of the seat belt behind me, we grabbed some Steak N Shake, and I ate on the way home. We stopped at the pharmacy and Brad picked up all my prescriptions. The nausea med, Zofran, had a note that said my insurance would only provide a day's worth on meds at a time. Well, I’d mention it to my doctor the next day. We all know how insurance companies can be a pain at times. That night I was able to tell when the narcotics were wearing off. I took some Tylenol, and tried to sleep. I was not very successful. 

Friday, September 11 was my first chemo treatment. I go in, get the blood draw, meet with the doc. Blood work is perfect, and the lump has not changed. I tell her about the insurance company not wanting to give me the whole prescription and she refers to that as essentially stupid and ridiculous. They will be contacting my insurance company. FYI- I get a message on the phone 60 minutes later from the pharmacy saying that the insurance company had contacted them and that I could pick up my full prescription at any time. Part of me really wants to know how the phone conversation went down. I go down for chemo. I get my own little room. My recliner has a heater and massager, and the nurses are like mother hens. “So you need a warm blank? Do you need a pillow? Need a drink, snack, menu, anything? Here’s the TV, the phone, etc.” They start the saline and pre-meds. My patient navigator from Parkview comes in and gives me a crocheted shawl (she remembered that I don’t like pink) and an elephant coffee cup that says “Believe” that they especially picked out for me because I’m a teacher. Everything else goes as expected. They push the Red Devil by hand while I freeze my mouth with a popsicle and ice. Then they give me the Cytoxan, and after that the Lunesta patch which is essentially a mini computer that can’t be cheap. Brad is eager to take it apart after we take it off my arm to see how it works. We ran up to Costco to grab a couple things; Tylenol, Claritin, hand sanitizer, snacks. We stop at JoAnn Fabrics and I score on some incredibly soft material that I plan to use as head wraps. We head home and stop at the pharmacy on the way to get the rest of  my prescription. I pretty much sleep on and off most of the way home. Not sleeping the night before is catching up with me. I had been told repeatedly that I would feel pretty good the first few days after treatment. Well, that wasn’t true for the first night. It felt like my body was trying to figure out which drug to listen to. I kept trying to decide whether I was nauseous or not. I didn’t feel like vomiting, but I also felt I could go that way pretty quickly. I took a nap for a couple hours and when I got up, I still felt pretty much the same. I finally relented and took the Compazine med. That and a peppermint that a friend sent as part of a care package helped. I munched on a few crackers and took it easy for the night. I took another Tylenol before going to bed and slept great. 

 

My new Breast Cancer shirt I picked up at Walmart by Susan G Koman. It was perfect to wear for my treatment, because it has a wide neck, so that they had easy access to my port. I'm not a pink fan, but this I could handle. I bought another shirt similar to it that I'll wear next time.

Saturday, September 12, was a pretty good day. I took my morning meds (baby aspirin everyday for as long as I have the port, steroids, and Claritin), which I have to say is really weird for someone who rarely takes meds. It usually has to be pretty bad before I take something, but everyone is drilling into my head to stay on top of things, so I’m listening to those who know way more than I do. I bought a little pill organizer and everything, knowing I’d forget to take stuff. I’m keeping track of all my meds and symptoms in a little journal I picked up. Chemo is supposed to be predictable in how it affects you. I got several things done around the house, and felt pretty good overall, but was still tired and sore from the port. I should probably be taking more Tylenol.

It's a funny feeling, knowing you were essentially healthy, except for this one little tumor. And now I'm going to totally poison my body and really make myself feel sick and look miserable to get rid of it. It just doesn't seem right.