I read somewhere that hair loss would occur after two weeks of chemo. The doctors and specialists really have that one under control. My last chemo was on December 11. My hair started falling out on December 25--exactly 14 days after chemo. I wonder why everything else is variable for treatments, but the hair thing!
At first, several strands of hair would come out when I brushed my hair. Then, the floodgates opened, and gobs of hair would come out when I brushed, washed, touched, slept on, or in any way had contact with my hair. I have enough hair in my bathroom trash can to house several bird, rat, or mouse families for quite a while. What I don't have is hair on my head.
I decided I needed to get rid of the hair if I didn't want to be overrun with strands of hair everywhere. My hairdresser shaved it all off on New Year's Eve.
I thought losing my hair would be the one thing that wold do me in. Amazingly, it felt like just another thing to be endured. I didn't cry, I didn't freak out, I just made the appointment and moved on.
So maybe this whole thing will be ok.
Saturday, January 3, 2015
Friday, January 2, 2015
Cancer, the gift that keeps giving
It's not bad enough that I have cancer. A rare, aggressive form of cancer.
I also have to have all of the side effects that cancer brings. Sort of like a gift that keeps giving. Like what, you ask?
Acid reflux. A hot burning, feeling right by the breastbone. Have to eat small meals. If I eat too much, I burp (a lot) and the fire intensifies. Had to start taking Prilosec to control it.
Cough. A "can't stop coughing no matter what" kind of cough. I (and Bob) am awake for six nights kind of cough. Try three or four different kinds of medicine cough. The best medicine was Robitussin DM PM. I was asleep about 30 minutes after I took that.
Loss of sleep. See above.
Boils. I don't know If I can attribute the boil to cancer, because it started before I started chemo. But they are caused by a compromised immune system, so I think it counts. I had this red, inflamed, lump on my chest for about two weeks before I figured out what it was. Yup, a quick Google search, and the first picture looked exactly like what I had. Still not gone, but getting better.
And finally, hair loss. Which started on Christmas, can you believe it? All my long, beautiful, not-my-own colored hair is leaving my head by the handfuls. All of my clothes, pillows, sheets, and the floor are covered with gobs of hair. I guess I should have taken care of it sooner to avoid all of that. I had my head shaved on New Year's Eve. I actually have a fairly decent head, no bumps or indentations. It is somewhat startling to see me in the mirror after I shower. I actually look a lot like my cousin, Bruce.
Not sure what else the cancer and the treatment will bring. Hopefully no more gifts.
I also have to have all of the side effects that cancer brings. Sort of like a gift that keeps giving. Like what, you ask?
Acid reflux. A hot burning, feeling right by the breastbone. Have to eat small meals. If I eat too much, I burp (a lot) and the fire intensifies. Had to start taking Prilosec to control it.
Cough. A "can't stop coughing no matter what" kind of cough. I (and Bob) am awake for six nights kind of cough. Try three or four different kinds of medicine cough. The best medicine was Robitussin DM PM. I was asleep about 30 minutes after I took that.
Loss of sleep. See above.
Boils. I don't know If I can attribute the boil to cancer, because it started before I started chemo. But they are caused by a compromised immune system, so I think it counts. I had this red, inflamed, lump on my chest for about two weeks before I figured out what it was. Yup, a quick Google search, and the first picture looked exactly like what I had. Still not gone, but getting better.
And finally, hair loss. Which started on Christmas, can you believe it? All my long, beautiful, not-my-own colored hair is leaving my head by the handfuls. All of my clothes, pillows, sheets, and the floor are covered with gobs of hair. I guess I should have taken care of it sooner to avoid all of that. I had my head shaved on New Year's Eve. I actually have a fairly decent head, no bumps or indentations. It is somewhat startling to see me in the mirror after I shower. I actually look a lot like my cousin, Bruce.
Not sure what else the cancer and the treatment will bring. Hopefully no more gifts.
Cycle 1, Week 2
Thursday, December 11 was my second experience with chemotherapy.
On the second week of each cycle, I get two drugs: Gemzar and Taxotere. The Gemzar takes 30 minutes to infuse, and the Taxotere, 60 minutes. In between getting these drugs, I get saline to flush my veins and steroids to prevent swelling and reactions. The drugs are monitored by a machine that beeps, clicks, and shrieks the entire time.
Taxotere belongs to a class of chemotherapy drugs called plant alkaloids, which are made from plants. The taxanes are made from the bark of the Pacific Yew tree (taxus).
For being natural substances, this drug packed a wallop. Based on the first cycle, the day after chemo (officially called Day 2) I felt I could take on the world. Day 3 and Day 4 found me in bed, but by Day 5 (Monday) I was able to go to work and be productive. After the Taxotere, I was dragging on Day 2, and in bed for Days 3-6. I haven't felt energetic since.
I spoke to the oncology nurse and she was going to talk to the oncologist about tweaking the dosage. She also said not to get my hopes up, because there is so little is known about my type of cancer that he might not want to deviate from known protocols too much.
Gotta love the fact that I am so special!
On the second week of each cycle, I get two drugs: Gemzar and Taxotere. The Gemzar takes 30 minutes to infuse, and the Taxotere, 60 minutes. In between getting these drugs, I get saline to flush my veins and steroids to prevent swelling and reactions. The drugs are monitored by a machine that beeps, clicks, and shrieks the entire time.
Taxotere belongs to a class of chemotherapy drugs called plant alkaloids, which are made from plants. The taxanes are made from the bark of the Pacific Yew tree (taxus).
For being natural substances, this drug packed a wallop. Based on the first cycle, the day after chemo (officially called Day 2) I felt I could take on the world. Day 3 and Day 4 found me in bed, but by Day 5 (Monday) I was able to go to work and be productive. After the Taxotere, I was dragging on Day 2, and in bed for Days 3-6. I haven't felt energetic since.
I spoke to the oncology nurse and she was going to talk to the oncologist about tweaking the dosage. She also said not to get my hopes up, because there is so little is known about my type of cancer that he might not want to deviate from known protocols too much.
Gotta love the fact that I am so special!
Friday, December 12, 2014
Fun Cancer Facts
Ha! I got you there! There are no fun facts when it comes to cancer. But let's give it a try.
Endometrial stromal sarcomas
Undifferentiated sarcomas used to be
considered a type of endometrial stromal sarcoma, but since they are more
aggressive and are treated differently from low-grade tumors, they are now
considered separately. These cancers make up less than 1% of all uterine
cancers and tend to have a poor outlook.
Chemo
My task vision was affected after my first chemo infusion. I had to use my reading glasses to use the computer.Numbness
The skin over my tumors feels numb, like getting novocaine before dental work. Feels weird to scratch my skin.Weight (loss)
You lose weight when you have cancer!Monday, December 8, 2014
Fred
I named my port Fred. Even before I had it, I knew it would be a Fred. Quiet, unassuming, hanging around the periphery. Useful, utilitarian. Annoying and in-the-way.
Fred and I were joined on November 19th. Another one of those days that has significance. My sister's birthday. Nice day. My mother's funeral. Not nice day. Fred. Definitely not nice day.
Fred usually makes his presence known. Lie on my side, and Fred is there taking up more space than there is under my chest muscles. Move my head, yep, Fred again, just being tight enough for me to always know he's there.
Fred did come in handy last week for my first chemo "infusion" (another word for pumping me full of poison). I didn't even feel the poke of the non-coring needle needed for Fred, the power port. He kept me very comfortable for two-and-a-half hours. Which is his only purpose in my life.
Fred can be a bit of a rogue. He donned a dashing moustache and google eyes for the nurse. I think she was very taken by him.
Fred and I were joined on November 19th. Another one of those days that has significance. My sister's birthday. Nice day. My mother's funeral. Not nice day. Fred. Definitely not nice day.
Fred usually makes his presence known. Lie on my side, and Fred is there taking up more space than there is under my chest muscles. Move my head, yep, Fred again, just being tight enough for me to always know he's there.
Fred did come in handy last week for my first chemo "infusion" (another word for pumping me full of poison). I didn't even feel the poke of the non-coring needle needed for Fred, the power port. He kept me very comfortable for two-and-a-half hours. Which is his only purpose in my life.
Fred can be a bit of a rogue. He donned a dashing moustache and google eyes for the nurse. I think she was very taken by him.
When a radiology surgeon says the scar looks good, take a second look
Got some stuff to catch up on. As you can see from the date of the post, it's almost a month since I found out I have cancer. I thought about doing a blog, but never got around to it. So here I am.
Although the oncologist said I had great veins and didn't need to get a port, I decided to get one anyway. Just one less thing to worry about. And I would have had to access my veins 36 times for the chemo and for weekly blood draws. A port is a catheter (long, hollow plastic tube) connected to a plastic and metal reservoir. When the catheter was placed in my chest, the catheter tip will be in a large vein in the chest, with the tip just above the heart. The net result is a large bump under the skin.
A week after the port is placed, the surgeon checks it to make sure it is safe to use. When a radiology surgeon says the scar looks good, don't believe her. Surgeons care about medical aspects, not aesthetic ones. The scar is bumpy, irregular, and ugly. So much for truth in advertising.
Although the oncologist said I had great veins and didn't need to get a port, I decided to get one anyway. Just one less thing to worry about. And I would have had to access my veins 36 times for the chemo and for weekly blood draws. A port is a catheter (long, hollow plastic tube) connected to a plastic and metal reservoir. When the catheter was placed in my chest, the catheter tip will be in a large vein in the chest, with the tip just above the heart. The net result is a large bump under the skin.
A week after the port is placed, the surgeon checks it to make sure it is safe to use. When a radiology surgeon says the scar looks good, don't believe her. Surgeons care about medical aspects, not aesthetic ones. The scar is bumpy, irregular, and ugly. So much for truth in advertising.
Remembrance Day 2014
I was in London in the late 2000s for Remembrance Day (Armistice Day), when the UK commemorates the victims of the First
and Second World Wars and remember the members of the British and
Commonwealth services who have fought in modern conflicts. (The same day in the US is known as Veteran's Day, a US National Holiday that honors people who have served in the U.S. Armed Forces.)
It was a very special day to be in London, especially at 11:00 am, when everyone (yes, everyone!) stopped what they were doing for 2 minutes of silence. Poppies have been used to commemorate soldiers who have died in war since the 1920s, and poppies were everywhere. Especially moving were the grounds of Westminster Abbey, where small plots of land were designated for each of the units that fought in the wars, and a poppy was placed for each man killed in the line of duty.
I had a different kind of Remembrance Day in 2014. This was the day I found out I had cancer, again. Undifferentiated endometrial stromal sarcoma to be exact. A rare, aggressive kind of cancer. The kind of cancer I thought I had beat in September 2013.
Chemo was recommended, although the oncologist did let Bob and me make the final decision. I am starting a chemo regimen of 6 cycles, four weeks per cycle, in the hope that I can gain some quality time. There is no cure. I can stop at any time I chose. I'll have another CT scan after two cycles to see if the chemo is having any effect on the cancer.
So now starts the flurry of activities and decisions: are my blood values good, do I want a port or use my veins for the treatments, when can I expect to be most fatigued, can I keep working. . .
It was a very special day to be in London, especially at 11:00 am, when everyone (yes, everyone!) stopped what they were doing for 2 minutes of silence. Poppies have been used to commemorate soldiers who have died in war since the 1920s, and poppies were everywhere. Especially moving were the grounds of Westminster Abbey, where small plots of land were designated for each of the units that fought in the wars, and a poppy was placed for each man killed in the line of duty.
I had a different kind of Remembrance Day in 2014. This was the day I found out I had cancer, again. Undifferentiated endometrial stromal sarcoma to be exact. A rare, aggressive kind of cancer. The kind of cancer I thought I had beat in September 2013.
Chemo was recommended, although the oncologist did let Bob and me make the final decision. I am starting a chemo regimen of 6 cycles, four weeks per cycle, in the hope that I can gain some quality time. There is no cure. I can stop at any time I chose. I'll have another CT scan after two cycles to see if the chemo is having any effect on the cancer.
So now starts the flurry of activities and decisions: are my blood values good, do I want a port or use my veins for the treatments, when can I expect to be most fatigued, can I keep working. . .
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