Follow, follow, follow, ... follow the yellow brick road ...

My very first answered prayer came at age five. There was someone I was very attached to that had gone away and I was missing them. And one summer night (while I was supposed to be sleeping but instead I was waiting for my mama to get home from choir practice), I prayed with all my heart that God would please let me see that person just one more time. I may have even begged, I don’t remember, but I do know it was a fervent, heart-felt sincere prayer.

And the next day ... yep, the NEXT day, this person came to see me to tell me goodbye. And I knew that God had heard me. It was a pretty powerful revelation.

Yesterday was chemo eight of twelve. And the past week or so I feel as if I have hit a brick wall. Chemo is cumulative so it’s understandable that the strength I had at week 3 or 4 is now diminished at week 8. I’ve been praying for more strength, more energy and realized today that maybe what I need to be praying for is acceptance.

My infusion therapy nurse, Kerry, was an angel in scrubs as she accessed my port (read stabbed me in the chest with a needle. But really, it's no big deal. I love my port.) and inquired about my constitution.

I immediately started telling her just how weary I am. How I don’t feel like doing much of anything, even eat. And, yes, people, it’s bad when I don’t want to eat! I said that I feel empty and depleted and whiney and pathetic and AWFUL. And she stopped, looked me in the eye and said, “You are the most vibrant person I have seen this week!”

She reminded me that I am fighting cancer here, not receiving weekly botox treatments. That the effects of chemo are stacking up against me but that it’s clear evidence that the meds are doing their job. That housework and the rest of my life will wait for me. That maybe I’m being much too hard on myself. I hugged her, squeezed her and thanked her. She said that I had blessed her, but I can’t possibly see how. She was the first little present of the day.

Chemo eight was uneventful, painless and a breeze. Snagged a power nap and woke to the nurse removing my blood pressure cuff. And since it was an early ‘out’, we headed to the café downstairs to grab some lunch and kill time until my 3:00 oncology checkup appointment.

Dave and I got separated in the lunch crowd and when I rounded the corner to the seating area and scanned the horizon for my Dave but it was another, different but familiar, face looked back at me and I read the words on his lips, “Is that Darlene?”

Lately, like since I lost my hair, I am convinced that I no longer resemble the person formerly known as me, so I introduce myself to people all the time. And yes, they tend to look at me like I am nuts, smile and say .. “I know who you are!” So I was relieved (and grateful!) that right off the bat, hair or no hair, crazy hat or not, my friend recognized me. We’ve known each other since we were six but we looked really, really different then.

Giant, smooshy hugs ensued. He was there with his beautiful wife and sweet mama, also a patient at MDA. We lunched together and shared memories and our cancer treatment routines and before I knew it, nearly two hours had passed. I was recharged. And grateful for my second gift of the day. I figured this was God’s way of saying, “I know you have had a really bad week and you probably don’t think I am even paying attention, so here ya go. You’re welcome.”

Life is so strange. Just when you think you finally know who you are, where you’re headed, what your life is all about God throws a few detours, obstacles and mountain ranges in your path. It’s all good though sometimes hard to swallow. Having cancer is nothing like I thought it might be. My reaction to having cancer is nothing like I thought it would be. Chemo and M D Anderson are not at all like I imagined they would be.

God thought I needed a scenery change. He also decided maybe I needed a “makeover”. And whatever illusions I had about myself and mortality, He decided to rewrite and edit those as well. But, He also made sure that all the groundwork was in place for me to be treated at the best possible place on Planet Earth. He lined up all the dots and dashes, laid a big ole yellow brick road and set me on it with my own personal Tin Man (who happens to have the biggest heart I’ve ever seen.) There have been no wicked witches or flying monkeys. Only beautiful, beautiful munkins and lovely fairy godmothers all along the way.

I have no idea what’s coming next but I’m not afraid. And I know that if God wants me tired .. who I am to argue? Maybe it’s His way of making me stop and think and be in awe of how He works. Like when I was five. Is He something, or what?

The Good, The Bad & The Ugly

I have lost my hair but I still have my sense of humor - mostly.

The Good (Or The Really, Really, Really Good):

I saw my oncologist on Wednesday for the first time since I started chemo. I like her so much. She's so warm and friendly and spends as much time with us as we need. I tell her each time I see her that I am glad she's there.

She asked me if I felt any difference in the tumor's size. It hadn't even occurred to me to check. My girls and I have had a tiff. We're not speaking. So I was really surprised, when Dr. M. couldn't "find" Herschel and I had to point him out to her, that he was considerably smaller, ill defined and not nearly as dense. WOW! Only five treatments in and we're seeing significant response to chemo. Thank you, God! Thank you, Dr. M.!

We're still on track for the remaining seven treatments of this round and the additional twelve week session to follow this one. I have a consult with a breast surgeon in March so surgery is still part of this equation but clearly we're talking (hopefully!) about less of a surgery.

The Bad (but it could always be worse):

I left my jacket (one I love) in my chemo room but it wasn't found by anyone so I guess it's gone. I just hate losing things. But I realized I had that jacket for more than fifteen years and I got it on sale at the end of the season for $40. so I really can't grieve for it except it was black suede and crochet and I really, really liked it.

(Really Darlene? Is this newsworthy? No .. but I needed a "bad" .. so .. shup.)

The Ugly (or I Can't Believe She Did It!):

So there she was, sitting across from me on the sofa. Her husband was the patient but he looked healthy so it took me a while to figure it out. They were fortyish, affluent, professional yuppie-types. She was about a size two (ugh.) with boots to die for. She had an Apple laptop and an emerald wedding band. (I suppose I was staring.)

I couldn't hear their conversation but she was clearly exasperated by something on her computer screen (later I learned it was a flight issue) but her husband didn't seem to share her angst. When he was called back for chemo, she was dragging up the rear and putting away her computer. Then she carefully stacked her four (yes FOUR!) empty styrofoam coffee cups (silly me, I reuse one), her empty cookie package and left them on the sofa!

She walked right past a trash can on the way into chemo. I was appalled. I got up, picked up her pile and walked them to the trash can, shaking my head at the gall of those kind of people.

About half an hour later (I was two hours late getting in for chemo), she came out, walked to the reception area, got a 'sign in' sheet to use for notepaper, whipped out her iphone and proceeded to be very unhappy with someone on the other end of that phone. She jotted notes, got angry and wadded up her paper and I thought "Oh no .. she's not .."

A Chinese lady (who was napping) had finished her coffee and the cup was sitting on the table beside her. Miss Snotty Trash Maker looked around, spotted the cup and put her wadded up paper in the lady's coffee cup! Then, again, she walked right past the trash can to stomp off into her husband's treatment room.

I looked at Dave, Dave looked at me with a big "No .. you don't!" look in his eye. Honestly, I'd have humilated her in that room full of people if only I could hear. Not hearing keeps me meek. But look out! When I get new hearing aids, I will be toting some new brass balls. And I will be prepared for Miss Snotty Trash Maker. What is wrong with people like that? If you know, please tell me? Meanwhile, I harbor a secret desire to see her again and give her a big ole piece of my mind ...

Chemo makes me feisty! Thankfully, I can only go for short bursts before I need a nap.

It Was A Day From Hell ..

A vision in hospital gear, no?

So yesterday was port surgery day and baby, it was a long one! We arrived at 7:30, a full hour before my appointed time, but at MDA if you arrive early, generally, you get seen early. Generally, but not yesterday! It was 10:30 before they took me back for pre-op stuff: nakedness, compression hosiery, antibiotic IV, stuff like that. And it was 12:30 before they wheeled me to the OR. My nurse, Millie, was great! The anesthesiologist, Pascal, was from Ghana, West Africa .. And his last name was a hyphenated alphabet soup, hence his being called “Pascal”. He was about 6’5” and a handsome blue-black gentleman with a soft voice. I liked him immediately. And, despite the fact that he messed up my eye makeup during surgery, we parted as friends. (Even though in my medicated state I kept calling him Pasquale. He just smiled wider.)

They brought Dave back to the recovery room at 1:45 and we were there for more than an hour while I shed the remnants of my sleepy meds. I wasn’t really in any pain but I was sore. Sometime around 3:00, they wheeled me to chemo. Since I had missed lunch in recovery, I was hoping to get something to eat in Chemo since my half of a hamburger from supper the night before was long gone. My chemo nurse was less than wonderful. This was a first as all my nurses (and all the staff) have been great so far. Dave and I repeatedly told her that I couldn’t hear her soft voice and yet she seemed to refuse to speak up. Finally, I stopped trying to hear her. Dave asked her if I could get something to eat since I hadn’t eaten all day and she just walked out of the room. She didn’t offer juice, soda or anything. We didn’t LIKE her. The cafeteria closes at 3 PM .. So Dave finally went to the gift shop and spent eleven dollars on nuts, crackers and a package of cookies. I didn’t leave chemo until 5:30.

I missed my appointment with my oncologist due to all the dominos shifting, so that appointment was rescheduled for next week. Next Wednesday will be another full day starting at 8:30 with a consult with my breast surgeon, blood work, chemo and my oncology visit. Being sick is hard work!

So, my port is in! I have two incisions, one about 1.5” long where the port is in place and another .5” incision on my jugular vein which is where the threaded the lead for the port (I think.) It’s not really painful, just uncomfortable but I am not to do much for several days and no lifting for a couple of weeks.

While I was in surgery, they placed a needle in the port so I would be good to go for chemo. YAY! No more IV sticks or hide and seek veins. Chemo will be a total breeze now. I’m still not feeling any nausea and my only side effects are fatigue and hair loss. I can’t really complain about that, after all, it’s proof that the chemo is working and surely Herschel knows now that he is in DEEP SHIT.

So tired & hungry!

I feel so very blessed to have Dave who is with me always (unless I throw him out of my room like I did yesterday!) He made the unfortunate mistake of telling me to “settle down” which didn’t set well with a hungry Darlene. Fortunately, he didn’t go far. And when I woke up from my nap, he was there, by my bed, staring at me. Mama says I need to be nice to Dave and I know she’s right. After all, where on earth would I ever get another guy who makes me laugh every day AND pulls my underwear up for me when I can’t?

Good News/Bad News

The Bad News is that my one remaining living hearing aid died on the way into town yesterday. R.I.P. you expensive piece of plastic crap.

The GOOD NEWS is that I have an appointment Tuesday morning to get my ears vacuumed in preparation for the MDA audiologist to test me for NEW hearing aids. (Meanwhile everyone was very accommodating yesterday even though it's a pain to be around me with no hearing aids.)

HUH?

The Bad News is they stuck me in my thumb yesterday for chemo. Okay, not really my thumb but in a really weird place and, let me tell you, THAT DID NOT FEEL GOOD!

The GOOD NEWS is that that is the next to last IV stick as I am having surgery on Wednesday to implant my port. It's very cool .. and it's PURPLE!

The port will provide access for all my future chemo, CT Scans & MRI. The the port will go under by skin (you can read ALL about it here), and a needle will be inserted but it won't be the "hide and seek" we play with my veins now .. so my hands won't be stuck multiple times or in sensitive places.

And that, don't you know, is the goodest news of all!

Chemo II - Easy Peasy

Chemo 2 (there was a DVD player!)

Tapped my hand again. Ugh.

My backup singers ..

How could I ever do this without him?

All done - piece of cake ..

Da bear .. Love my Saul bear ..

Two middle eastern women in burkas, a Chinese woman, an African American woman and two Caucasian women go into a bar ...

Just kidding .. these were all the women waiting in my suite for chemo today. The older middle eastern woman was the patient, she was heavy but had bad color and clearly didn't feel well. The younger woman was likely her daughter and all I could see were her eyes but they smiled back at mine. There was a man (who didn't sit with them) who, I suppose, was their token male.

The black lady was frail and in a wheel chair. She was cold and requested a blanket before they took her back for her meds. She didn't look like she felt very well either. She sat with her back to me and held her head in her hands mostly. Her son and daughter-in-law were with her but she didn't converse much.

The Chinese lady appeared to be alone. She wore a sweater cap but I bet she was bald under it. She walked like her joints ached and she didn't smile once, even though I smiled at her repeatedly. Oh well. You can't win 'em all.

The white lady was very frail, in a wheelchair, in a turban, in a blanket and never made eye contact with me. I don't think she was much older than me (based on the age of her daughter pushing her chair) but she looked much older. I wonder what she looked like before cancer ....

My entourage filled the sofa. Dave, me, Stevie Nicks, Don Henley, Elton John, Sean Colvin, Lindsay Buckingham, Stephen Stills, David Crosby, Graham Nash ..

Yes. You read me right. Of course they were on my MP3 player .. but still. Nice company, huh? I felt a little guilty (well, more than a little) that I could plug in, turn on and tried (without success) to sit still during "Building The Perfect Beast". I still feel good. Nothing hurts, nothing is sick. I'm not green. I still have hair - sorta. I'm not unhappy.

It's because of you, you know. I imagine each of you as a big Macy's Thanksgiving Day Balloons ... ;) .... and you're all holding me up. It's really cool .. you all have these silly grins and keep bumping into each other .. and there I am, smack dab in the middle with my toes barely touching the ground. Aaaaah. My balloon buddies .. you ROCK!

Taxol.101

I'll have my second of twelve Taxol treatments on Wednesday. This week the only symptoms I have had are a 'rumbly tummy', joint aches and fatigue, none of it unbearable. All of it, in fact, pretty mild considering what I have read about other patient's experiences with Taxol. My oncologist, Dr. M, prescribed a nausea medicine and my nurse instructed me to take a pill when my first chemo session was finished. I was to take them every six hours as needed after that only I didn't need any!

So what is Taxol? It's a plant derivative and this is how it works:

Cancerous tumors are characterized by cell division, which becomes out of control. "Normal" cells stop dividing when they come into contact with like cells, a mechanism known as contact inhibition. Cancerous cells lose this ability. Cancer cells no longer have the normal checks and balances in place that control and limit cell division. The process of cell division, whether normal or cancerous cells, is through the cell cycle.

Chemotherapy is most effective at killing cells that are rapidly dividing. Unfortunately, chemotherapy does not know the difference between the cancerous cells and the normal cells. The "normal" cells will grow back and be healthy but in the meantime, side effects occur. The "normal" cells most commonly affected by chemotherapy are the blood cells, the cells in the mouth, stomach and bowel, and the hair follicles; resulting in low blood counts, mouth sores, nausea, diarrhea, and/or hair loss.

The Pacific Yew

Taxol comes from the Pacific Yew tree, a conifer native to the Pacific Northwest of North America. It ranges from southernmost Alaska south to central California, mostly in the Pacific Coast Ranges, but with an isolated population in southeast British Columbia. As I understand it, a semi-synthetic pathway was developed from extracts of cultivated yews of other species due to the scarcity of the Pacific Yew.

Being a bonafide tree hugger, I find it particularly comforting that Herschel is being bombarded by little yew-ninjas that float thru my bloodstream. If having those ninjas gives me a bit of a 'rumbly tummy' I think that is a small price to pay for Herschel's annihilation!

Here's hoping Wednesday's session is as easy as the first. Thanks, as always, for the boundless support of my peeps!

Piece of CAKE!

I'd only been appointed for a week .. but what a long week it was. I read every paper, brochure & book given me by my doctor. I researched my nausea and chemo meds online. I want to be informed, make wise choices, be able to discuss my care with some intelligience. And, to be honest, I probably went overboard. I vacillated back and forth between being grateful for the poison that would (hopefully) kill Herschel and his minions, and being fearful of the poison that would (hopefully) kill Herschel and his minions.

Before

I was a little apprehensive here .. Would I be sick? Have a reaction? Would my hair suddenly stand up on end, and jump out of my head like a dandelion in late summer when you blow on it? Would Dave fall asleep in the recliner and snore so loudly we were asked to leave? I'm happy to report that NONE of that happened. (The dandelion thing might have been kinda cool, though.)

Herschel's Toxic Cocktail

We watched movies, snacked on jalapeno crackers, unhooked me for a potty break (!!!!! We're so smart!) and I actually napped. Apart from some initial burning at my IV site .. there was no reaction, no pain, no nausea, NADA!

Dave's Zuni Bear

I took some friends with me. My Zuni friends will recognize this as a Saul Yuselew bear. Saul was a tiny little man who claimed to only speak Zuni (when approached by "melikas") and who carved these medicine bears well into his eighties. He died a couple of years ago. This is Dave's fetish that he carries in his backpack. I had given a similar one to my Dad before he died and I now have that one. The Zuni's believe that bears have knowledge of healing roots & berries and white bear are especially powerful. I think White Bear Of The East was pretty helpful today. (I wonder what Saul would think about a melika girl taking his medicine bear to chemo. I think he would have liked it.)

And I took my best friend, head cheerleader, navigator, cookie bearer, juice opener, IV pushing, potty helper too. What would I do without him? I'm so sorry he's having to bear this cross with me .. but I am awfully glad he's here. I couldn't ask for a better source of support and encouragement.

This is my blood pressure. See .. I'm not nervous. That is digital proof that I AM A WARRIOR. Herschel's toxic cocktail doesn't SCARE ME!

Happy it's over
(Just the first of lots of tacky pictures to come, I'm sure. But they can't all be pretty .. right? And I'm not censoring the photos from here on out .. )

And, now we're done. My nurse told me to take a nausea pill just to be on the safe side. A saline flush, removal of my IV and we're outtah here. I felt so good I was hungry for lunch. Fortunately, there's a Luby's on Fannin. Though I napped a little on the way home from the Compazine, otherwise I was fine. Chemo session one, piece of cake. Eleven more in this round to go. Here's hopin'!