Red Devil

 

In case you haven't figured it out already, my superpower is finding silver linings. I don't just lean towards positivity, I'm pretty much rooted there. If there is good in a situation, I'm likely to trip over it. 

So I added googly eyes to my "Red Devil" chemo. My doc asked me why. I told her it was to remind me that it was a friend, not a foe, and that it is to help me and not hurt me. She said she'd never seen anyone do that before. 

I'd heard stories of other patients who have had it and how it wipes you out. Zero energy. But it's also, from what I've read, excellent at killing cancer cells at every stage of growth. Sounds like an excellent weapon to employ. 

Am I tired? You bet. Do I still plan to take my 3 mile walk today? Also yes- not gonna squander that sunshine while it lasts! Do I have laundry on the line? Also yes. Am I drinking my water- the goal is 64 ounces daily- yes. I'm at about 32 done right now, so not too shabby. 

(Here is where I fell asleep the first time attempting this post.)

So to back up, my first AC chemo (Adriamycin and Cyclophosphamide) was on Monday. They started me with about 4 anti-nausea meds, at least one of which that lasts 72 hours. I just looked up some more stuff about those and, holy cow, I should just stay off the Internet. Adriamycin also goes by Red Devil, hence the googly eyes to remind me it's a friend; it kills cancer in every stage of its life cycle and prevents replication. Also some serious side effects in addition to less serious ones like hair loss. (Been there, done that, Jeep hair, don't care.)

But effects on the heart is nothing to sneeze at, so they'll be keeping a close eye on me just as they did with my year of Herceptin. As far as I know, this is only 4 cycles AND I have the benefit of some wiggle room: since it used to be given every three weeks, I can do that so I don't have a treatment right before Thanksgiving, wahoo! They've discovered when they add a Neulasta patch to bump up your cell production that they can shorten the cycle to two weeks between each treatment, but also can give the grace week for scheduling purposes. Whilst I don't mind being a lightning bug (the patch attaches to your arm and blinks for 27 hours until it does your 45 minute injection and then the light clicks to red and it turns off. Then you remove it.) it is on my left side because of the risk of lymphedema being elevated on my right side. Well, guess who generally sleeps on her left side? Haha. Them's the breaks. 

Round One is done. 

I started this post yesterday afternoon, then had to pause to take a nap. Did my 3 mile walk later, had a good sleep, all that jazz, and had a two hour nap today before I got back to the blog! Then whilst reading the "how to get through chemo" parts of the literature it said take naps if you need to but try to keep them to about 30 minutes. Whoops.

I'm to drink tons of water and am doing well in that regard. Might just float away. People are asking how to help and our fridge and freezer are FULL, so remind me to drink water. Not rum*, not Fireball, no Mike's Hard Lemonade. 

Water.

And ginger ale and Gatorade and schedule IV fluids if I feel I need them. Thankfully ice cream is not forbidden, though I don't think that counts as liquids. Shucks. And I know half of you just shouted, "MILKSHAKES!" I hear you. =)

So far, so good. I am a bit alarmed that I already feel more... chemically... than I feel like I should- this is cumulative and that was only my first and yikes- but maybe cells in my body are now on full alert running around hollering, "enemies foreign and domestic! Move, move, move!"

The election coverage isn't helping, haha. Dada hears my hugs sighs of exasperation and doesn't even look up from what he's doing to remark, "why do you even READ about it?" *Grumble, grumble, grumble* 

Go vote. You have a voice. Go use it. 

Anybody needs a napping buddy, come on over! 

Apologies in advance for future continuity issues and/or lack of proofreading. I dunno how people hold down jobs during this unless it's love for and support from their coworkers (which I can absolutely see). Hang on to your brain cells, friends, cuz I'm gonna need 'em!

* Also, and yes, Mom, it took me this long to figure it out, but I think I now know why stereotypical sailors head straight for alcohol upon landing. After months at sea, becoming used to the six different motions of a ship on a sea, then landing to discover only gravity is working against you has gotta feel WEIRD. I think they use alcohol to recalibrate their fluid looseness that is their "usual/normal" state when at sea! Self medication. Makes sense to me!

Waxing philosophically about pathology results and impending nuttiness

 Eggs, eggs, eggs, eggs. 

Just kidding. I know what I need to blog about. I just dontwanna. 

Short version, think "The Princess Bride" where Prince Humperdinck tells the priest, "SKIP to the END," I need chemo. Again.

Longer version: my surgeon, Dr A, removed 16 lymph nodes during her two parts of my surgery. The first 4 were not true sentinels, as those had been taken out during my mastectomy surgery. The other 12 from the second part of her surgery were all clear, so hooray for that! Yay!

Of those 4 closest to the tumor, 2 of those wiseguys had picked up some cancer in their cleanup duties. Guess I should have had it marked "NO TOUCHIE" a little better, but they handled it regardless and got contaminated. 

Once the pathology came back, Dr A took the results to the tumor board that meets Thursday evenings. I had prayed that there would be a clear consensus of YES, chemo is needed or NO, chemo is not needed. I did not want the board to be split down the middle and then be asked, "what do YOU think?" I hate making medical decisions. I don't have a degree in any of that stuff! Just tell me what to do!

Fortunately, they agreed that chemo would be the way to go. Now I'm waiting for the Powers That Be to schedule my port surgery, this time on my left side, and then I can begin chemo the next day. I suppose there will be pre-op bloodwork before that, so here is the sarcastic yaaaaaaaaaay. 

Because I am no longer Triple Positive (I am estrogen positive, progesterone positive, and Her2neu negative for those new to the blog or who have lost track, and who could blame you?) I will need a different chemo cocktail than the first time around. That time I had Carboplatin and Taxotere as my chemo drugs and Herceptin and Perjeta as my hormone therapy drugs. This time it'll be Adriamycin and Cyclophosphamide (which I will never be able to spell without looking it up) every two weeks until I've done it four cycles. Then there's probably a break in there of about two weeks before I start Taxol weekly for 12 weeks. Then it'll be on to the hormone therapy, however that looks, but I seem to remember it'll be in pill form.

I shall be bald by Thanksgiving and hopefully done with the AC combo by Christmas providing I tolerate it well and don't get sick and wreck the schedule. I'm going in confident because it'll be the same team who did my chemo the first time and they are excellent at setting patients up for success in anticipating which side effects hit when. For instance, they know "these three days you will have the worst nausea so take these drugs these days, then this day the bone pain will set in so take this one," and so on. They equip you with a great bag of tricks. Plus, I know to drink TONS, rest when I can, stay positive, and all that. 

AND AVOID ATOMIC FIREBALLS. NO TOUCHIE.

My goodness, I don't want to relearn that lesson. No breathing fire, thanks. Mouth sores are a possibility so it'll be time to restart the baking soda rinses and all that jazz as well. I have wonderful lotions to help my skin stay hydrated, plenty of lip balm... and I'll need a box for all my hair products, haha. Oh well. Hair In His Face is welcome to them, though he is such a minimalist he'll never touch them. 

More than anything, right this second, what I want is for the doctor's office to call so I can schedule what needs scheduled so we can plan around it all. I have Stuff To Do! So. Much. Waiting. I'm still no good at it.

Guess I'll have time to catch up on my reading list. I am only 13 books behind my goal for the year. *sigh*

A friend asked how my heart was. Heart is fine because I know this will all be okay. I'm stronger going into this than I was the first time around and that all went fine. I know whose I am, who's got my back, who is cheering me on from afar, and so on. Heart is pretty peaceful, actually. 

It's brain that would like to schedule a freak out session, preferably in the middle of the night when I should be sleeping: 

What if I don't tolerate these meds? What if I'm vomiting or pooping ALL THE TIME? (Then the docs will adjust doses and/or meds and it'll get fixed and be fine.)

What if they affect my heart? I've already had a year of Herceptin and that had potential for heart damage. Yes, I KNOW the last echo test was fine. That was then. (They'll be keeping track of heart stuff, as well, scheduling more echos to keep an eye on things. It'll be fine.)

What if my hair never grows back? It didn't come back the same this time, and eyebrows and eyelashes hardly came back at all. (Meh. Then you have a super easy beauty regimen for the rest of forever. Don't sweat it. There are wigs. There are falsies. There are eyebrow pencils. Do you REALLY care? No. It'll be fine.)

What if I miss an entire year of subbing? (Ugh, okay, I'm with you on this one. I miss my small friends and my peer friends, a lot. I also don't want their germs, which are legion. Then you miss a year, I guess, but they haven't forgotten you as evidenced by your text streams and visits and care packages. They know you love them, too. And you might be back to yourself by springtime! It will be okay.)

I can't believe I'm putting my family through this again. (They are also in good hands with a good tribe at their back. Again, your team knows what they're doing. It will all be okay. Not great sometimes, but okay. You can keep talking about it to make sure THEY are okay, too.)

What if it spreads elsewhere? (Good grief, brain, shut it! *sigh* Okay, if it spreads elsewhere then your team will deal with that as well! Go to sleep!)

And a radiation consult? Potentially proton therapy? What is up with that?! (That is another post altogether when we have some facts.)

But what if...?

And so it goes. 

But that's life, right? There's no stopping the world to get off for a minute to reorient yourself. Y'just gotta take another breath. Take another step. Write another thank you note. Pray for someone else. Text another friend. Have another cup of coffee Go drink some more water. Eat some ice cream. Go for a walk. Make a grocery list cuz God knows nobody else around here adds anything to it. Read a book. Take another breath. Drink some more water. Give yourself permission to take a nap. Phone a friend and ruin their day because SOMEONE CALLED THEM, haha. Tell people you love them. And breathe again.

Wash, rinse, repeat. 

Enjoy the bubbles.