Today's Chemo-Sabe and transportation provided by Michelle.
A poke is a poke is a poke...right? Unless it takes two nurses, four attempts, over two hours to get your IV started. My veins are collapsing and some scar tissue is developing making it challenging. Still...the nurses and I stay positive, talk nice to my body, laugh and giggle and eventually find a willing participant. The first thing out of my mouth when we finally make a connection...let's get this party started!
A little something more about staying positive...today I pulled "L" as my primary nurse. This is the first time "L" and I have been partnered up. I think she is the last nurse standing that had yet to be partnered with me. She told me that she specifically told the other nurses "today, I get Cindy." I'm thinking wow, you must be feeling up to a challenge based on my track record...port issues, uncontrollable pain, port issues, IV struggles, port issues, etc. "L" then explained to me that the nurses talk about me. Laughing...I'm certain they do (a little secret...I talk about them too). How wonderful it was to have her share with me why they talk about me. Seems they like to be partnered with me because they see me as always being positive, smiling, willing to do whatever it takes to make treatment happen and I'm thankful at the end of the day that I have one more treatment under my belt (no pun intended...but that did make me giggle). I commented to "L" why be any other way when treatment is already so challenging...why make it more difficult on everyone? She assured me I would be surprised.
Keep your face to the sunshine people...life is good.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
September 15, 2011 - Treatment #10 (double digits...holy shit!)
Today's chemo-sabe and transportation provided by: Michelle (Shelly)
Another uneventful treatment day...happy girl. An uneventful treatment day for me is like winning the lottery. You hope you will win and when you do...it feels so good.
I still need a private room rather than being out in the general population so I can lay down. I need to lay down because of the discomfort I feel from the chemo fluid that is trapped in my fatty tissue (I prefer chubby tissue...but whatever...grin) from a month ago when my port malfunctioned. Sitting up...bad. Reclining and unzipping my pants...good. Today I asked my treatment nurse "C" her opinion (let me tell you about "C"...I put her knowledge, skill and ability right up there with my doctor) and possible thoughts on how to evict the fluid from my body. Her opinion parallels mine...it needs to go...and the sooner the better. However, easier said than done. Apparently this fluid is quite happy in my chub and is going to have to be coaxed to leave. Plan of attack...heating pad, pain medication to control the discomfort (which to date haven't worked. Enter...new dosage/medication plan) and gentle massage.
Cindy to body...trapped chemo fluid you are not welcome here. Run, run for your life. Cuz I am going to cook you with this heating pad and then force your runny little toxic ass out of my chub!
Another uneventful treatment day...happy girl. An uneventful treatment day for me is like winning the lottery. You hope you will win and when you do...it feels so good.
I still need a private room rather than being out in the general population so I can lay down. I need to lay down because of the discomfort I feel from the chemo fluid that is trapped in my fatty tissue (I prefer chubby tissue...but whatever...grin) from a month ago when my port malfunctioned. Sitting up...bad. Reclining and unzipping my pants...good. Today I asked my treatment nurse "C" her opinion (let me tell you about "C"...I put her knowledge, skill and ability right up there with my doctor) and possible thoughts on how to evict the fluid from my body. Her opinion parallels mine...it needs to go...and the sooner the better. However, easier said than done. Apparently this fluid is quite happy in my chub and is going to have to be coaxed to leave. Plan of attack...heating pad, pain medication to control the discomfort (which to date haven't worked. Enter...new dosage/medication plan) and gentle massage.
Cindy to body...trapped chemo fluid you are not welcome here. Run, run for your life. Cuz I am going to cook you with this heating pad and then force your runny little toxic ass out of my chub!
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
September 13, 2011 - The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
One of my best friends asked me last week "so, how is it?" Knowing exactly what she meant it didn't take much for me to reply as the title to an old western came to mind. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.
The Good - My surgery. A full hysterectomy with a quick and relatively pain free recovery.
The Bad - Being diagnosed with Fallopian cancer.
The Ugly - The challenges of treatment.
Yesterday was an especially bad day. Cold sweats, blurred vision, trembling, dizzy when standing/moving, zero energy, everything that comes in contact with my mouth tastes like tin, my arms and legs continue to breakout with small blisters, tingling and numbness in the balls of my feet, etc. All side effects of treatment.
I have had some ugly days, there is no doubt about it. I am nine weeks into treatment and have seven more to go and know full well that there is the strong possibility that there will be more ugly days ahead. If I had to do it over again would I make a different choice? Even with the ugliness of my bumpy days (which is my way of describing my shit days) I would do it again in a heart beat.
The Good - My surgery. A full hysterectomy with a quick and relatively pain free recovery.
The Bad - Being diagnosed with Fallopian cancer.
The Ugly - The challenges of treatment.
Yesterday was an especially bad day. Cold sweats, blurred vision, trembling, dizzy when standing/moving, zero energy, everything that comes in contact with my mouth tastes like tin, my arms and legs continue to breakout with small blisters, tingling and numbness in the balls of my feet, etc. All side effects of treatment.
I have had some ugly days, there is no doubt about it. I am nine weeks into treatment and have seven more to go and know full well that there is the strong possibility that there will be more ugly days ahead. If I had to do it over again would I make a different choice? Even with the ugliness of my bumpy days (which is my way of describing my shit days) I would do it again in a heart beat.
September 8, 2011 - Treatment #9
Today's chemo-sabe and transportation provided by: Muk (aka Sharon)
Labs, vitals, and treatment (Taxol) today. The ladies of the lab have the gift of a good vampire. A quick, efficient, painless stick and I am in and out. Vitals next...next...next? Hello? Let me just say that I got lost in the shuffle somehow and waited 40 minutes to have my vitals taken. Something that I could have done myself...more efficiently...and in much less time. Weight, blood pressure, pulse, temperature. How do you lose someone in the shuffle who needs to have their vitals taken before going upstairs to the infusion suite? Did I mention I was crabby today? I did have a good laugh though when the medical assistant weighed me and I had lost 83 pounds from the prior week. Yep, that's right...83 pounds. I had to assure the medical assistant that the scale was stuck from the prior patient and that for confidentiality reasons it would be great if they check the scale after use ensure that it went back to zero. Imagine the trauma I could cause to the patient following me...good gawd all mighty!
Today's treatment process was easy...minor challenge finding a good place to stick me but success on the first attempt. Ms. "K" whom was today's treatment nurse was kind, knowledgeable and efficient. Me likee.
Labs, vitals, and treatment (Taxol) today. The ladies of the lab have the gift of a good vampire. A quick, efficient, painless stick and I am in and out. Vitals next...next...next? Hello? Let me just say that I got lost in the shuffle somehow and waited 40 minutes to have my vitals taken. Something that I could have done myself...more efficiently...and in much less time. Weight, blood pressure, pulse, temperature. How do you lose someone in the shuffle who needs to have their vitals taken before going upstairs to the infusion suite? Did I mention I was crabby today? I did have a good laugh though when the medical assistant weighed me and I had lost 83 pounds from the prior week. Yep, that's right...83 pounds. I had to assure the medical assistant that the scale was stuck from the prior patient and that for confidentiality reasons it would be great if they check the scale after use ensure that it went back to zero. Imagine the trauma I could cause to the patient following me...good gawd all mighty!
Today's treatment process was easy...minor challenge finding a good place to stick me but success on the first attempt. Ms. "K" whom was today's treatment nurse was kind, knowledgeable and efficient. Me likee.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
September 1, 2011 - New Treatment Plan
Today's chemo-sabe and transportation provided by: Sandy (Sis)
Day one of my new treatment plan (IV only) now that my port has been removed. I still receive treatment in a private room as I am not yet able to sit upright for long periods of time. Slouching is my new sitting. Sitting upright causes too much discomfort in the area where my port was and where all of that chemo fluid collected several weeks ago and still resides. Bastard fluid...enough already...get the hell out of there! Hot packs, cold packs, massage, drugs, talking nicely to it...taking badly to it (grin). Nothing has made it pack it's bags and hit the road in it's entirety. The doctor assures me with time my body will absorb it. I think my body has other ideas of it's own right now and absorbing chemo fluid isn't one of them.
The first attempt to place today's IV line failed, but was OK. Second attempted failed, ouch, that was kinda ugly. Third attempt failed...bajeesus that hurt (watching my sister's face confirmed how much it hurt). Fourth attempt....bingo! My veins did not want to cooperate today...first time ever. My left arm looks like I went three rounds with a Tasmanian Devil. I would guess my veins are sick of being poked and prodded. When I think about the number of blood draws and IV's that I have had in the past three weeks it's amazing that I am not leaking.
Today's treatment is the halfway point for me. Eight treatments down, eight to go. Yee-haw! In some regard the past two months have gone by so quickly. On the other hand, it has felt like the longest two months of my life. I continue to focus on October 27th, my final day of treatment and try to keep in perspective that this time in my life is but a bleep on my life's radar. That I have pulled into the shop for my 54,000 mile tune-up and that this maintenance will keep me on the road for years to come in fine working order. Wanna kick my tires?
Day one of my new treatment plan (IV only) now that my port has been removed. I still receive treatment in a private room as I am not yet able to sit upright for long periods of time. Slouching is my new sitting. Sitting upright causes too much discomfort in the area where my port was and where all of that chemo fluid collected several weeks ago and still resides. Bastard fluid...enough already...get the hell out of there! Hot packs, cold packs, massage, drugs, talking nicely to it...taking badly to it (grin). Nothing has made it pack it's bags and hit the road in it's entirety. The doctor assures me with time my body will absorb it. I think my body has other ideas of it's own right now and absorbing chemo fluid isn't one of them.
The first attempt to place today's IV line failed, but was OK. Second attempted failed, ouch, that was kinda ugly. Third attempt failed...bajeesus that hurt (watching my sister's face confirmed how much it hurt). Fourth attempt....bingo! My veins did not want to cooperate today...first time ever. My left arm looks like I went three rounds with a Tasmanian Devil. I would guess my veins are sick of being poked and prodded. When I think about the number of blood draws and IV's that I have had in the past three weeks it's amazing that I am not leaking.
Today's treatment is the halfway point for me. Eight treatments down, eight to go. Yee-haw! In some regard the past two months have gone by so quickly. On the other hand, it has felt like the longest two months of my life. I continue to focus on October 27th, my final day of treatment and try to keep in perspective that this time in my life is but a bleep on my life's radar. That I have pulled into the shop for my 54,000 mile tune-up and that this maintenance will keep me on the road for years to come in fine working order. Wanna kick my tires?
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