Cancer Tips for Dummies

So I have a binder full of information regarding breast cancer, chemotherapy, radiation, and more. At each and every doctor visit they like to give you packets and folders full of advice and resources. Some of it is quite helpful, some redundant and some a little ridiculous. There are shiny pamphlets and flyers with stock photographs of cheerful looking doctors, nurses and patients telling you things that you might need to know while you are traveling the rocky road of cancer treatment. I am here to tell you that I am not so cheerful and I don't think that they should be misleading us with those images.

I have a whole section in my binder for test results, another for nutrition and yet another for drugs and side effects. As I was looking through the binder today I came across a page titled "Cancer Related Fatigue." The question, in big bold letters, "How Do I Know If I Am Fatigued?" jumped right off the page at me. Are you kidding me? I think if you even have to ask the question the answer must be no. There is a check list of indications that you might be suffering from fatigue.

1. Difficulty climbing stairs or walking short distances - check
2. Difficulty paying attention or concentrating - check
3. Shortness of breath after light activity - check
4. Difficulty performing simple tasks such as cooking, cleaning or taking a shower - check
5. Unable to do much during the day as usual - check
6. A desire to sleep more - check
7. Slower speech - check
8. Feeling like crying or depressed - check
9. Paleness or shakiness - check

I don't think it's rocket surgery figuring out that you are fatigued, unless maybe you have been laying on the couch for most of your life anyway. This might seem like just another day in the life. But I am here to tell you that I AM FATIGUED! I dragged myself to town yesterday for the first time in a week, just to buy some knitting needles at the local yarn shop. When I got home I slept for two hours. Today I wanted to go to the grocery store and get a few things. I made the mistake of going to Meijer Thrifty Acres. I barely made it through the store. I was sure that someone would notice the way that I was shuffling along, leaning into my cart with my wig slightly askew and call for assistance. No such luck. Then I got in the check out line, where the young man ringing up my groceries was far too chatty and seemed to expect me to respond to every single thing he said. I just couldn't do it. Then he was packing my bags so full that I could barely lift them into the cart. I had to ask him to please not do that. By the time I got to my car I wanted to cry and then take a nap right in the parking lot (see numbers 6 & 8).

Really, most of the information in the binder is helpful. I read through it before I started treatment, and now I refer back to it as needed. It is good to know that the things I am experiencing are a normal part of the process, and that there are things I can do to ease the symptoms. I wish they could just put me into a drug induced coma until I feel better. Is that too much to ask?

Chemotherapy - Round Two

So, here I sit at the cancer center having my second round of chemotherapy. I met with my oncologist first and discussed all of the side effects that I experienced after my last treatment. I told him about my 1 a.m pity party and my decision not to have any more poisons pumped into my body, and my subsequent rethinking of the issue. He is lowering my dose of neulasta, the drug that boosts my white cell production. This should happily reduce the pain that I had after my last dose.

I spent the last couple of days doing nice things for myself. I bought furniture for my new deck so that I can sit out in the sun while I am recuperating.  Yesterday I spent some time preparing to feel sick for the next week. Stocked up on Popsicles and juices. Did my laundry. Organized my arsenal of pain relievers, stool softeners, nausea meds, and hemp oil. Fluffed my pillows.

My daughter is here with me today. It's a change for her to be in the not so comfy chair while I am comfortably reclined. She calls me a part timer, since I only come for a few hours one day, while she has four long days for every cycle of her treatment. I am happy to be the junior partner on this cancer team.

I hope to get through the next week a little easier than the last time, since I know what to expect and can maybe deal with things a little better. I will refrain from partying in the middle of the night and posting to Facebook in a drug induced state of mind.

Bad Hair Day

I woke up to find my pillow covered with hair. Not cat or dog hair. My hair. I tentatively tugged at a few strands on my head and out they came with no resistance whatsoever. The doctors told me I would lose my hair, and I know several other women who have had the same chemo drugs as I am on who lost their hair. Still, it's a shock when it actually happens. It's like a  dream I had once where my teeth were all loose and falling out and all the next day I kept running my tongue around my mouth to make sure that my teeth were secure. Only this time I wasn't dreaming.

I had a wig ready, purchased at the salon at St. Joseph hospital in Ann Arbor. Very cute and sassy, my husband says. I also have amassed a small collection of hats, waiting for the day when I finally needed them. I stood in the bathroom for a long time pulling strand after strand of hair out and dropping it into the waste basket. I cried quite a bit. One more thing to grieve in this damned process.

So I took the hair clippers downstairs and told my husband he needed to shave my head. I did not want to go through days of watching it fall out in my dinner plate or washing down the drain while showering. My daughter, with her own bald head, took pictures while my husband buzzed me with the clippers. He was a bit nervous about it. I have cut his hair for years. He said he never thought I would let him cut mine. At one point I took the clippers from him and did a few swipes over my skull. My husband asked what I was doing. My daughter said I was taking control.

When the job was done I reluctantly ran my hand over my head. I did not like the feeling, like my husbands face when he hasn't shaved for a couple of days.  My husband looked into my eyes for a long moment and said "You are so beautiful." I cried some more.