three months

Three months ago today, at about 8:20 am, Dr B looked me in the eye and said "you have cervical cancer." Only three months. And at the same time... wow, three months. So much has happened. Surgeries. Radiation. Chemotherapy. Oncologists. Scars. Sickness. Nausea. Medications. Side Effects. Needle Sticks x a kajillion. Tears. Laughter.

But I'm still here, still fighting, still unwilling to give myself over to the dark side. With John by my side, I have faced each challenge head on (or sometimes, head turned) and gotten thru. Only to be met on the other side by yet another challenge, bien sur. But I will continue to fight, and eventually I will win!

Here's the latest:


you brachy it, you buy it

Brachytherapy this week was, shall we say, not good. I had my labwork done on Tuesday so I could forgo all the torture of trying to get it done in pre-op. My thinking was that this would speed things up. I was in the OR on time (7:30) and was waking up in post-op around 9:00. The catheter hurt like hell, but I knew to ask for drugs right away. Nurse W was off, but Nurse H was awesome and did not leave a bruise like the one Nurse W left with the IM Vistaril (click for pics). I was given the same cocktail as last time (Morphine/Demerol/Vistaril) and again it worked like a charm. God bless drugs!!!

Nurse H made a call to get Orderly T to come pick me up and bring me over to the ROCk to get things going. But T didn't show up until over 30 minutes later. I got there around 11:00, and was taken right for the CT-scan. That went well, and it was time for the napping-room. Dr F came in to check in on me, and after seeing the CT-scan, came back in to say that my anatomy hadn't changed too much. Last time, the scan showed that my small bowel was sitting on my uterus, and this week the scan was not showing much difference. But we'll get to that in a minute. Dr F left me, and I napped. The drug-slumber wore off around noon, just in time to hear everyone at the nurses' station talking about lunch. I wanted to get on with it, but apparently everyone else was hungry. Hearing them talking about food got my stomach grumbling, and the drugs left me on the irate side of the bed.

I also overheard Dr F interacting with some other patients, and my opinion of him was cemented: this is a doctor that actually cares about his patients, and gives each one the extra care they long for. I am lucky to have him on my team! But still, there I sat, getting more pissed, wanting more and more to get the tubes out of my pooter and get my ass home to bed. All the time I'm lying there, an automatic blood-pressure cuff is attached to me. I haven't got access to a clock, but I'm guessing it goes off every 15 or 20 minutes. This is the high-tech equivalent of scratching off days like this in my prison cell nap room. Each time, my blood pressure slightly rises with my ire. Finally, they came to get me at 1:30.

Last time, the treatment took 12 minutes, and they played an awful Elton John cd. This time, because of the degradation of the Iridium sample, the treatment would take 14 minutes. But I provided my own cd: Mozart; the Jupiter Symphony and Overtures of The Magic Flute, The Marriage of Figaro, and The Abduction from the Seraglio. Much much more relaxing. The treatment itself was uneventful. Before I knew it, I was headed back to the nap room where all my vaginal accoutrements would be removed, and I could finally go home. But then, it happened...

"Dr F, Dr O on line 2" broadcast on the pager. I had heard Dr F talking earlier to a lung cancer patient with a bad cough about her going to see Dr O and them needing to discuss her case. I groaned. Please let this be a short call. Nurse B came into the nap room and removed my catheter (OUCH) and the many miles of wadding that was packed into my vag (OUCH x 10²³). She left me to cry by myself a bit, and then it happened... "Dr F to the Sim Room" - he was being paged again. Crap! I had overheard that a new patient was having her first radiation - the sim - and she had seemed nervous. If Dr F was being paged, it meant there was a problem. Please let this be a quick-fix. But no. It was not to be. Nurse B came in an took out my IV, but that was all she could do.

Dr F needed to remove the tubes, but he was giving other patients the kind of care that I so appreciate him giving me. There I was, lying alone in a room in pain, knowing that John was in the waiting room, having been told it would be about 20 minutes over 30 minutes ago. I waited there for over an hour, and by the time Dr F came in, I was sobbing. I couldn't look at him. I felt forgotten, and by that time I was irate. I let him have it.

"What can I do?" he asked with genuine concern.
"Next time, don't forget me" I snapped back.

"I understand how you feel" he sympathized.
"Go home and stuff three lollipops up your rectum and leave them there for the weekend, and THEN you'll know how I feel" I retorted.

I was not at my best. Dr F was doing his best to apologize, and I was angry and bitter and hurt and insulted. And it showed. But he rose above it and went to talk to John. He apologized for the long wait. John told him that I speak very highly of him, and his response was "Well, she might not after today." But you are wrong, Dr F. I do still think highly of you. Yes, I eavesdropped; but because of the what I overheard, I know you were doing for others what you do for me. And that is to do whatever you need to in order to give the best care. I just happened to need 5 minutes of your time when you didn't really have an easy out. I trust this won't happen again.

But Dr F also had some troubling news. My small bowel is still too close to my uterus, and therefor too close to the high-dose radiation. The exposure will cause damage, but the treatment is too important in killing my cancer. I had a CT-scan this morning while laying on my stomach to see if that makes a difference. If it does, I will get treatments in that position (but while resting, I'll still be able to lay on my back). If that doesn't make a difference, it will mean more surgery to move the bowel. And - lucky me - they can do it laparoscopically!!! If anyone doesn't get that sarcasm, revisit this post. So everyone, please knock me some wood - you know I am! I should find out on Tuesday.


my two-headed dog might be staying a while

Yesterday was chemo. I was so calm in advance that I didn't even need a Vitamin V. But that's a double-edge sword: good that I'm calm about chemo, but is chemo something I really wanted to ever get so used to that I'd be calm about it? While Nurse M was hooking up my port, we had a little chat. First, she explained that even though I'm only scheduled for two (!) more chemo sessions, they won't remove my port for probably six months. They do this just in case the follow up requires more chemo. Makes sense, but I was really hoping to be rid of this two-headed dog.

Here is an artist's rendering of me during treatment (thanks, Jer):


Next, we talked about that being the third day in a row that my port got stuck. Nurse M was concerned because being stuck so many days in a row could lead to lots of scarring since the needle is going over and over into the same spot. She suggested that I get a Huber Needle (click for pic). This is a shorter needle that will be inserted on Tuesday when I get my blood drawn, and covered with a large clear dressing. A small capped-off IV tube will be attached. Then on Wednesday when I go for Brachytherapy, the IV will just need to be hooked up instead of my port being accessed. And then Thursday for chemo, they'll use that same hook-up. When chemo is over, they'll take it out. Because right now, my skin is getting abused (click for pic). This is a good thing, because it will make it easier for me and mean less scarring. But it's kinda freaky to me that I'll have this needle in my chest from Tuesday morning to Thursday afternoon. But I'll probably do it anyway.


this is so funny, it's leaving me in stitches

And now, I not only have a stitch sticking out, I have two stitches! I think it is actually one stitch, but now both ends have worked their way out. It's really freaking hard for me not to pick at it (wanna revisit my picking fetish? revisit this post...). Plus, it's freakish. (click for pic)




So that's about it for today. For those of you keeping score, I'm over halfway through this battle!!!



Thanks everyone for the supportive emails and calls and cards and comments! It means the world to me to have you hanging in there with me during this ordeal =)