A More Technical Explanation

I'm feeling a decent amount better, thanks to the anti-nausea drugs my husband has been pumping into me, so I decided I should work on filling you in about how the first session actually went.

We arrived at the office around 10:55am and I walked to the lab to get my bloodwork done.  After waiting for almost 30 minutes for a 30 second poke, we finally meandered upstairs to Dr. Knechtl's office.  I had to fill out a sheet that told them how I was feeling for the day (any pain, nausea, anxiety, etc..) and on it I vaguely explained my ear situation.  My nurse, Terri, was a little uncomfortable with the whole experience so she rang for Dr. Knechtl.  He came and examined me, poked around in both ears, felt for swelling in my lymph nodes in my neck, and then asked Isaac and I a bunch of questions before decided we should still be good to go.

After getting the okay, Terri loaded up an arsenal of stuff and came over to get my IV started.  Literally, an arsenal.  She had the Huber needle to go in my port (see pic on the left), several pieces of gauze, a blue sterile pad, a sterilizing swab, numbing spray, a bag of Decadron already connected to an IV, a couple syringes of saline, and a syringe of Aloxi.  Once she'd kind of set her stuff up on the table connected to my chair, she started by sterilizing my chest where the port is.  I thought that was cold, until she told me she was going to use a cold numbing spray on me so I couldn't feel the needle go in.

That stuff was COLD!  It felt like she was spraying liquid nitrogen on my chest until it turned into a piece of ice-skin.  I think if I would have taken a little hammer to it, that part of my skin would have cracked open like a thin sheet of glass.  Anyway, then I had to take a deep breath in and hold it so that there was tension on my skin and she could have easier access to my port.  I was so scared it was going to be excruciating--you should see the size of the needle!

Turns out that numbing stuff works pretty well because all I felt was a little pressure on my skin and then it was in.  It took maybe half a second.  Not too shabby.  Then started all the stuff.  First was the anti-nausea drugs: Decadron and Aloxi.  The Decadron is a more short-term anti-nausea drug while the Aloxi is designed to last about 36 hours.  After the Decadron was all in, they started an IV of saline and then we did a test batch of Bliomycin.  Apparently this stuff is rough on your lungs and if you have an allergic reaction to it, it will shut down your airways and you'll get hives.  Thankfully I didn't react to it.

We waited for an hour before they were comfortable that I hadn't reacted to the Blio.  Then Terri came back over with another large batch of stuff.  The first one was Adriamycin.  It looks like red Kool-aid.  She put around 80cc's of that in over a period of 10 minutes.  Then we flushed my port with saline.  Then it was Blio's turn again.  This time she put it probably 50cc's of it over about a 20 minute period.  I'm glad that they take their time with these things.  I've read on the internet that if they push it into you too fast, it can be extremely uncomfortable!

After the Blio came the Vinblastine.  I can't remember how much of this went in, but it was pretty uneventful.  Oh--and we flushed my port in between ever single drug.  Needless to say I had to pee about a couple hours into it.  After that, they started me on the last one... the "D" drug.  Can't remember what it was because although I've only been up for an hour, I'm feeling exhausted already.  I'm going to check out for a while and I'll hop back on later to finish this.

********NAP********

Okay, so I actually took like, three naps during that time.  BUT, the upside of that is that I ate a half a pizza.  Which is good, because I didn't keep barely anything down last night.  Back to the story though...

After the "D" drug, which dripped for about an hour, she flushed me with some more saline and Herapin, a blood thinner.  After that, she pulled the needle out and I was good to go.  It was 4pm.  Isaac was nice enough to stop at Wendy's for me so I could grab a Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger because I was hungry.  Unfortunately, I think I got sick from it and I don't think I'll be eating one of those again.

The rest of the night was not ideal, as you can probably tell from my previous post.

My thoughts on Session One

Hello lovely friends!


Well... today was my first chemotherapy session.  I'm pleased to say that I think it went quite well.  As of right now, I feel perfectly normal--other than being pretty tired and my head feels a little fuzzy.  I'm not sure if the fuzziness is from my chemo or my ear infection though.


We got to the clinic today around 10:55am and I went straight to the lab to get blood drawn.  After about a half hour of waiting, it was finally my turn to spend 30 seconds in the bloodletting chair.  The nice lady who did it today was a fantastic poker. (I switched to the word "poker" after the mis-communication with the poor man who thought I called him a prick.)

******** REALITY CHECK********

Okay, so the above was written immediately after I'd gotten back from my first session.  I essentially felt fine. I'm sad to say that about an hour after writing that, the nausea kicked in.  Big time.  And I've felt like puking ever since.

I should probably just mention here that when I started this blog, I promised myself I'd do my best to be truthful about what is going on with me throughout the process.  Easier said than done.

I'd love to say that the nausea was all has gone wrong.  In all reality, I've officially had my first major breakdown.  I felt sick to my stomach.  I felt like I had a fever (which, I didn't).  I felt too hot, too cold, and every variety of the two.  I can't hear out of my right ear.  I'm lonely, I'm in the apartment all the time, and since being diagnosed, feel like I am being quarantined here.  I felt unattractive.  I felt like a worthless wife.  I felt like a slacker.

Needless to say when I started bawling for no apparent reason, my sweet husband steps up to the plate to ask what is wrong.  I tried to explain it all to him, and actually might have done a decent job of doing so through the tears and sniffly nose.  He said that he can't relate to going through chemo.  He said my ear will heal.  He said I'm not on quarantine, I just have to be careful where I go.  He said I'm hot.  He said I'm not a worthelss wife.  He said I'm not a slacker for not being able to help with bills and that me not working right now is an investment in our future.

I love him.

I felt so much better after hearing that.  Especially that I'm not a worthless wife or slacker.  It makes dealing with the other things easier.

Anyway, that's all I'm going to write tonight because I still feel like vomiting and really just want to lie in an unconscious blob on the floor for the next 6 months.

Tootles.

Specific things to pray about:

• That the nausea will go away.
• That I will BELIEVE my husband when he says I'm not worthless and a slacker.
• That next session will be better.

Chemotherapy Tomorrrow!

A few brief notes before tomorrow comes.

It's not like this has snuck up on me or anything, but it just kind of hit me today that my first chemo session is tomorrow morning.  I've intentionally not asked people about what it was like because as the saying goes, "ignorance is bliss."  Maybe.  We'll find out at 11:00am, Michigan time.  I'll be armed with a book, lemon drops, and my cell phone.

Also, I added my husband to my blog account so if you read something that is grammatically incorrect and sounds nothing like me, its him.  It's a trial run... we'll see how he handles it.  I'm hoping that it will be easier for you guys to get the whole feel of what's going on in our lives if you can read from him too.  Just be forewarned, writing is not his forte.  He's a critical thinker and natural analyzer; his brain is like a computer that catalogues, stores, and recalls on command.  Artistic expression of any type is just not in his blood.

Well, that about wraps things up.  Tomorrow, my cancer is real.  Tonight, I just have an ear infection.

Snap, Crackle, ...Crepitus?

You read that right.  Crepitus.  (Pronounced kreh-pit-us)  It's the "cool word" of the evening.  My husband described it as the sound scar tissue makes when it is breaking up.  Scar tissue is basically like a scab on the inside of your body--it's job is to protect the wound underneath it until it is fully healed.

For example: let's say you scratched your elbow.  As it heals, blood flows to the surface of your skin and clots, creating a protective barrier (the scab) outside of the wound.  Once the skin has re-formed under the scab, the scab dries up and falls off; mission complete.  Now let's pretend that you let your elbow scab dry while you held your arm straight.  The next time you bent your arm, the scab would separate in some spots and new blood would flow out with the intent of clotting and forming a new layer of scab where the old one had busted apart.

Scar tissue protects wounds inside your body just like a scab.  And just like a scab on your skin, the scab on the inside can be broken as well.  The weird thing about this inner scab is that when it breaks, you can HEAR it.  This sound is called crepitus.

I had an up-close and personal encounter with crepitus tonight.

When Isaac had discovered the lump on my right collarbone, we'd had an excisional biopsy done.  One aftermath of the surgery had been increased tightness in my sternocleidomastoid muscle (the bright red muscle in the picture to the left).  Because the incision for the surgery was directly above where this muscle connects to my collarbone, my body had naturally shrugged my right shoulder up, decreasing the amount of pain I felt by lessening the tension on the skin in that area while also allowing my muscle to take a break.  Unfortunately, all muscles have a natural tendency to want to contract because it costs your body less energy--this is why dead people go into rigor mortis; their body is no longer producing the energy necessary to keep the muscle relaxed.  Since I'd been avoiding using my sternocleidomastoid for about two weeks, it had gotten used to being contracted and was extremely tight and my neck and upper back were trying to compensate for it.

Another consequence of the surgery was that I had a build-up of scar tissue where the incision was.  I'd been walking around with a funky neck for a while when Isaac decided it was time to work out the scar tissue; to break the scab, so to speak.

If we were five, he would have had to chase me around the playground for a while before I let him come near me because I was so scared it was going to hurt.  He told me it wouldn't.  Yeah...  I'm no dummy.  As it were, I was acting skittish about the whole thing anyway, stepping toward the chair and then when he came close, squealing and walking away as fast as I could.  How adult, right?  I know. I felt like an abused dog that shirks away when people go to pet it.  Except I'm not a dog.  And Isaac wasn't going to pet me, he was going to stretch my neck.  Either way, I was really UNexcited about the whole thing.  Eventually, Isaac gave up on the stretch-fest happening any time in the near future and decided to sit down to study and wait for me to come sit in the chair when I was ready.

It took a few minutes, but once I'd mentally dedicated myself to it, I settled down in the chair.  I still didn't believe it wasn't going to hurt, so I had a towel close by that I could bite down on if I needed to.  Isaac gently held my shoulder down while simultaneously coaxing my head in the opposite direction.  My muscle was so tight it felt like it was on fire at first--and my head was barely tilted.  Ever so slowly, he stretched then relaxed, stretched then relaxed.  He alternated between that and kneading the scar tissue for about 3 minutes.  Then he told me to let him take my neck as far as I felt it could go.

Now, before I agreed to this, we had to have a little come-to-Jesus talk because I wanted to know if he was actually going to stop when I said to, or if he was planning on going a little further than I thought I should.  Obviously the answer would have an effect on when I told him to stop.  I'll push myself when I need to, but I'm not to keen on surprises--especially if there's potential for them to be painful.  We agreed that I would be in complete control of when I stopped and then I had a quick mental pep talk with myself before we started the more aggressive stretching.

Slowly, he pushed down on my shoulder and started to stretch my neck.  About 3 seconds into it I was pretty sure I was at my limit, but he had promised me that my muscle wouldn't tear if the surgeon had done things properly, so I decided, "Eh, what the heck?  I can go a little further."

That's when I met crepitus for the first time.

All the sudden I felt (and heard) a pop.  It was pretty loud.  And kind of gross.  Even Isaac seemed surprised at how noisy it was.  I thought for sure my neck muscle had snapped in half and visions of showing up to chemotherapy in a wheelchair flew through my head for a microsecond and then I realized that not only was my neck still in tact, it felt SO GOOD!  A million pounds of pressure and tension was suddenly gone.  Vanished.  Out with the pop.  Ahhhh it felt so nice!

My reaction must have been awful funny, because Isaac was giggling a little bit by now.  Apparently they'd done the same thing to him at the clinic with his knee and he knew exactly what I was experiencing.  What a goose.  I was a smidge embarrassed because of how worked up I'd gotten about the whole thing, and kind of wanted to sock him in the leg.  I didn't.  Someday I'll learn to trust him on these things.

He was all excited to stretch some more, but I asked for a ten second break, because although it felt fantastic, the mental game was still a little much for me.  For Pete's sake, I just "cracked a scab"!  Exactly ten seconds later, we started in on it again.  We stretched, relaxed, massaged, and popped a few more times before Isaac decided that was enough for the night.  Needless to say, my neck feels much better and I have even more confidence in my husband's medical abilities.

Plus I have another word to add to my mental dictionary of medical terms.  And now so do you!

Old at Heart

It's not uncommon for me to feel old.  Usually it's because I'm an overly-serious, budget-conscious homebody whose visions of fun involve reading and cooking.  Oh--can I deviate for a second and just tell you that being too serious is a characteristic of my personality type?  Yep.  I read it on Wikipedia.  Anyway, lately I've been feeling older than normal, but yesterday especially.

The directions for the drops I'm taking for my ear infection say to lay on your side and let them soak in for about 10-15 minutes before moving around.  And what better to do while laying on your side than sleep?  I really can't DO anything during this time that would involve moving around, and watching TV or talking to Isaac is near impossible because not only is the ear facing upward the one full of drops, it's also the one that we're pretty sure I ruptured, which means I hear static in it now 24/7.  Anyway, I'm supposed to take one set of these drops twice a day and the other as needed.  The "as needed" drops are the ones that numb my ear and are recommended to be used every 4-6 hours.  Needless to say, I've been getting plenty of unintentional naps in.

On top of that, I've started a little herb garden.  Meg mailed me some seeds as a surprise in the mail when we first moved here because she'd moved away from home the year before and found growing things to be somewhat therapeutic.  She started me out with jalapenos and cilantro--two of her favorite things.  I didn't have the basic necessities to grow things though, and so I went to Target and did something that I NEVER thought I would do.  I paid for dirt.  Yes, DIRT.

It was $6 plus tax.

Oh my.  Until moving to Michigan, this was equivalent with paying for air.

In addition to my naps and herbs, I've also started to walk extremely slowly and carefully due to my port--kind of like how older people move with their walkers and canes.  It's not that it's painful, it's just weird to have something permanently on your chest.  There is a cord running from the port up and over my collarbone as well, and that's probably the most awkward part of it.  Again, it's not painful per se, it's just a really weird sensation.

I'd try and describe it for you.  The port itself is actually anchored on my left pectoral (right under the greenish bruise).  When I raise my left arm, I can actually feel the port moving WITH MY PEC off toward the side of my body.  I can also feel my skin stretching tight over it as well.  Yep.  Awkward.  In addition to the port shifting with my movements, the cord does as well; sliding back and forth over about a 1/2" section of my collarbone.  The "pain" from the pressure of the cord on my clavicle is similar to a ponytail headache.  That's the best way I can describe it.  I keep wanting to reach over and pull the cord off--which I can't do because it's IN my body--because my mind tells me that if I did, it would alleviate the discomfort.  Sometimes I think I can feel the cord shifting inside my body too, like a little worm wiggling around.  That was mostly after the surgery though; it seems to be pretty well settled in there now.

Yeah.  Just thinking about it sometimes makes me a little uncomfortable...

The kicker to my "old" formula, is that I feel extremely out of shape now.  Yesterday I asked Isaac if he would be sweet enough to walk around outside with me because I just miss the sun and the fresh air and moving around.  He agreed, and we set off for our walk around the complex around 8pm.  We walked at a moderate pace, and I kid you not, when we got back, I was ready for a nap.  I felt so incredibly pathetic.

Three months ago, I could run a couple miles without blinking.  I could throw around 35-40 lb. kettlebells and not even feel that winded.  I would get up religiously at 4:30am four to five days a week to go workout simply because I love to be active and I enjoy the rush from it.  And now, I'm tired after walking less than a mile?  Are you kidding me?

As you might guess, I felt like a big pile of poo.  Isaac did his best to comfort me, reminding me that I'm still not 100%, I'm recovering from surgery, and that I haven't worked out faithfully so of course my body is regressing.  The first two I was okay with.  The last makes me feel like a slacker.  In my delirious desire to redeem my pre-michigan fitness level, I asked if I could go to the gym.  He smiled at me and said sure, I could go tonight if I wanted.  And then I realized why he was smiling.

I avoid the weight area at our gym because it's filled with macho-men on steroids who stare at themselves in the mirror and look at you like a fresh-cooked meal if you walk on two legs and don't have a penis.  Instead, I swim.  ...But I can't swim with an ear infection.  Turd.

Needless to say, I'll continue to work my green thumb, spend an excessive amount of time napping, and huff and puff like a life-long smoker after walking around the block until my ear is fixed.  And then I think I'll be investing in ear plugs to avoid this situation in the future.

Prayer Requests

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." ~Philippians 4:6

Many of you who are keeping up with what's happening in our lives have mentioned that you are praying for us.  Let me tell you, we appreciate it so much!  You can never have enough prayer!  However, when I was back this past weekend, some people asked for more specific things to pray for.  I've been doing some thinking about this, and these are what I've come up with:

• Pray for my husband.  More specifically, pray that God will grant him the emotional and physical stamina to endure what we're about to go through.  He'll have a reprise from his schooling for the month of August, but come September, he will have a full load (I believe 5 classes).  Pray that he will be able to efficiently study and retain what he is learning.  Pray that his heart doesn't become heavy and discouraged when we go through rough times with treatment, and pray that we will not close each other out.
• Pray for my Iowa family.  We're now separated by about 650 miles, so when things go wrong, it's really likely to stress my mom out.  Both of my parents watched my uncle lose a battle with Multiple Diffuse Cell Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma, and although my case looks pretty good, some things are likely to give them flashbacks which could be painful.  Please pray for peace for them, that they will cling to each other, and find comfort together in trusting God's plan.  Pray that my experience will help my brother see life differently and that God will use this to draw him in.  He's a little lost right now.  Pray for my sister, that she won't get overlooked in the chaos, and that her walk with God will continue to be strengthened during this time and she'll continue to discover what love from Him really feels/looks like.
• Pray that chemotherapy will be all I need.  We're so grateful to have caught this early on.  It means a lot of good things.  However, the doctors have mentioned they might want to do radiation to finish things off.  This means a higher chance of developing lung cancer, an increased chance of other secondary cancers, increased chances of heart problems, and hypothyroidism.  In addition, if the chemo fails (which they do not suspect it will, but it is a possibility) it's likely I'd need to undergo a stem cell transplant.  That said, both of those things would be a bummer...
• Pray that I will learn to recognize when things aren't right.  I'm observant when it comes to hair colors and makeup, but I am pretty bad at recognizing when my body is telling me something is wrong. I often justify it and I'm learning now that this is NOT going to be okay.  Pray that I will be in tune with what is going on and that when things are going wrong, I will recognize them and speak up, rather than assuming it is nothing and that it will go away on its own.
• Pray that we will continue to be fed spiritually.  We're not quite sure how this is going to look at this point.  For the moment, we plan to keep attending church.  However, with a crowd that large, there are bound to be lots of bacteria and viruses and that is something the doctor would like us to avoid, so we will probably discontinue physically going at some point.  If I get sick, they will need to hospitalize me and there is a good chance it would delay my chemotherapy as well--something they really don't like to do, as it lessens the effectiveness of the treatment.  It's something we'll need prayer about.  Thank goodness for online media players and live streaming!!

Along with the prayers are some of the many praises that you could thank God for with us:

• Praise God for my husband.  Thank God that I married him!  It was the best day of my life!  Moving here has been teaching me a lot about what it is like to be a good wife and what it is like to be looked after by a magnificent, Godly man!  Thank God for Isaac's interest and connections in medicine, and for his attentiveness, which has recognized things that might have otherwise gone unnoticed.  Thank God for his leadership, his patience, and his gentleness thus far!  I'm thankful also that he is a good communicator, not allowing me to shut down when I am discouraged or frustrated.  (That also comes in handy when my mom calls and wants to know what's going on.)
• Praise God for the unraveling of the story so far.  So far as cancers go, I'm told again and again, this is the best one to get.  Concerning insurance, I've been blessed with my husband and mother discovering loophole after loophole.  This is saving us a TON of money!  Thank God that I hadn't been able to find work yet--because if I had, I'd need to quit.  Praise Him that we found it early and that I am symptom-free!  Thank Him that we are young enough to not have to worry about infertility from treatment.  (I'm also telling him that I'm thankful I finally had a good excuse to shave my head!)
• Thank Him for the encouraging people around us.  Granted, they might not be next door, but I've had several people reach out to me who have had cancer and encourage me through Facebook, email, etc.. as well as a large number who haven't had cancer.  We've been sent thoughtful words, jokes, smiles, and good conversation from a number of friends and family and we are SO incredibly appreciative!!
• Thank Him for good medicine.  I never thought I'd say it, but I am so thankful for yes--medicine!  I'm thankful for medicine that, although it will make me hairless, will kill my cancer cells.  I'm thankful for antibiotics that are currently killing my ear infection.  I know that soon I will be thankful for anti-nausea medicine during chemotherapy. I'm also thankful for thoughtful doctors who have been trained to recognize and identify problems and who know the appropriate medicines to administer/prescribe!

Listening.... Who Knew It Was So Helpful?

Well... I promised I would keep you posted on what's going on with the ear situation.  I am happy to say that it is 1:32am here and it is officially under control.

So.

I believe when I left you last, my ear was draining more toward the clear-ish, yellow-ish end of the spectrum and I don't think the pain was unbearable.  However, that soon changed.  Bad news bears.  Probably a couple hours later my ear started draining more on the reddish side again and the pain intensified.  Immensely.

We headed out to the urgent care doctor, who, I will do my best to objectively describe.  I will warn you, not everything here is probably said out of love, because this man was an idiot.  I first talked to his nurse, who did a fantastic job listening to what was going on.  I was incredibly impressed by her and took that as a good indicator that he would probably be attentive as well.  Turns out I was VERY wrong.

This ding dong walked in the door, looked in both ears, and declared that I had an ear infection (which, duh, I could have diagnosed myself with that) and that my infection was focused in the anterior part of my eardrum (aka, the front).  Now, first off, neither the ENT in surgery yesterday or my husband could see to my eardrum because of the wax in the way, so how did he?  Easy.  He didn't.  He assumed.

He then also assumed that I was a completely uninformed drug-addict, which, I'll admit, I might have looked like one at that point.  However, the point of urgent care is to get quick care for people who would normally go to the ER, but don't feel like they're quite at that point yet.  You would think he'd be used to seeing a lot of not-so-good looking people.  Anyway, after he wrote me a script for a couple of useless drugs, he proceeded to tell me that even though I'd just had surgery less than 12 hours ago, I shouldn't be taking the pain killers they prescribed until I was in extreme pain; otherwise, Tylenol should be good enough.  And the nasal spray that my allergist recommended that has been working fantastically for me--yeah, quit taking that too.  Claratin or Benedryl should suffice.

It was at this point I couldn't help but open my mouth and inform the ding dong that I thought it was entirely appropriate to engage in pain PREVENTION rather than waiting until I was miserable to try and control it and that I'd already tried Claratin and Benedryl alongside the other OTC drugs for allergies for YEARS before I realized that the constant drainage in the back of my throat was due to allergies and not a mystical year-round disease that plagued only me.

Now, on TOP of all his baloney, he also was very intentionally inching toward the door the entire 7 minutes we talked.  Can I mention that I was the only person in the clinic?  Literally.  The. only. person.  How do I know this for sure you ask?  Well, considering we were the only car in the parking lot and I didn't see a soul while in there, I'm just making an educated guess.  I don't know what in the world he felt he had to rush off for, but it was sure irritating.

After taking one dose of the crap he prescribed, I felt sick to my stomach.  This was my own fault.  He had mentioned that I would need to eat with one of them, but I had been so focused on how furious I was that he wasn't even listening or asking questions to figure out what was wrong with me, I had completely forgotten.  So, while I was on the floor in the bathroom, shaking from somewhat self-induced nausea, my husband kept track of time for me.  The drugs were supposed to kick in after 30 minutes.

Thirty minutes later, I was still shaking--although now more from cold--and in severe pain.  It was at this point we started debating which ER to go to.  We had two options: Henry Ford or Mount Clemens.  Henry Ford is only about 3 minutes away while Mount Clemens is about 15; however, Mount Clemens had all my information already because I'd been there the day before for my Mediport placement.  I told Isaac not to worry about my time in the car because I was going to be uncomfortable either way, and really, what is 12 more minutes after I've already been enduring hours of pain.

He dropped me off at the ER door and I felt like death.  I could barely keep my eyes open.  I'm not sure why, but for some reason, they really wanted to stay shut.  I was pale, my lips were SO dry and kind of white because I was breathing shallowly through my mouth because breathing deeply hurt, and breathing through my nose was impossible.  They took my blood pressure, which is normally about 90/60 and it was 130/80.  WAY high for me.  My pulse was also elevated--normally in the mid 60's, it was almost 90.  I hadn't just run a marathon or anything either.  I'd been sitting still all day because moving hurt my ear and I'd only had to walk about 15 feet to get from the car to the ER door.

They put me in a room and told me the doc would be in soon.  She was a young, attentive D.O. who just so happened to be graduating from Michigan State in about a week.  Her and Isaac obviously hit it off pretty well after we learned that.  She checked things out and said that she couldn't see much because not only was there wax in the way, there was now also pus.  Yuck.  We told her about our experience in Urgent Care and you could tell she was a little disgusted with that doctor as well.  Apparently whenever someone comes in with any type of ear infection, there is a pretty textbook-standard drug to give.  He hadn't.

She gave me prescriptions for a heavy-duty oral antibiotic, ear numbing drops, and a liquid ear drop antibiotic as well.  The numbing drops were magic from the get-go.  She put those suckers in and I started to feel 50% better within five or ten minutes.  I might be a little bit off on the time because I actually felt good enough to fall asleep on the table.  Isaac would probably know more accurately how long I slept for, but when I woke up from my little nap, I felt tons better.

We left and headed out to get the scripts filled, which Isaac found quite entertaining.  Apparently they thought he was a drug addict since we'd already been there once today and two other times so far this week.  They had to call the hospital to see if he was actually supposed to be receiving any more drugs or if he was faking scripts.  I was a little too delirious to find it funny when he told me, but it's pretty amusing now.

He dropped me off at the house and went to grab us some food because we really hadn't eaten all day and it was almost 8pm.  When he got back, it was my turn to pray and I thanked God for good doctors and was tempted to ask Him to curse the bad ones.  I ate a little bit, slept for about another hour, and then took my new, smart-doctor prescribed medications.  I've felt like a walking miracle ever since.  I even started to do some laundry.

The Good, The Bad, and The Green

WARNING: If you are easily grossed out by the output of bodily fluids, DO NOT READ THIS BLOG.  I'm not leaving details out.


With that said, I woke up this morning to Isaac's alarm, screaming for me to take my next round of antibiotics, pain killers, and nasal decongestant.  I walked into the bathroom and while doing so, realized that my airways were super-blocked.  It was like breathing through a clogged filter.  Not exactly easy.  I took a deep breath in, which caused me to start to hack like a life-long smoker, but along with the hacking came phlegm.  Large amounts of THICK, DEEP, GREEN phlegm.  Like, this first chunk was easily as big as two peas.  Nasty stuff.  However, it felt absolutely great to get it out of my lungs, or wherever it was coming from, so I kept coughing away.  My husband said the color indicated that it was infection coming out of my body.


Next came my nose.  First I was just dripping a little bit, so I decided to gently blow.  Again, TONS of thick green-yellow mucus.  You know that feeling when you go to blow and you can just feel things waving around in there?  Yeah, that is what it was like in my nose this morning.  Isaac said to blow gently though instead of forcefully because it would be less likely to irritate my ear.  I obeyed, even though I really wanted to just pound it out of there.  There was one blow that I can say with confidence removed at least 1/4 oz of mucus.  It just about filled up the Kleenex.  I literally stood in the bathroom this morning for 15 minutes, alternating between coughing phlegm up and gently blowing mucus out of my nose.


After about 7 or 8 of those interesting minutes, I felt something like a bubble pop in my right ear.  It wasn't as painful of a pop as before, but it felt like a little bubble had burst in my ear.  I was immediately nervous, after my experience the previous morning, and had just opened my mouth to holler for Isaac to come into the bathroom when tons of pressure was relieved from my ear.  It felt SO good!!!!  I turned to look in the mirror again and was a little bit shocked to see fluid running from my ear, down my lobe, and onto my neck.  I decided he should probably know about this....


"Uh.... Isaac??  My ear is leaking!"
"Huh?"
"My ear is leaking fluids... lots of fluids, but it feels so much better."
"What does it look like?  Is it red?  Pink?  What color?"


By this time he had made his way into the bathroom to check it out for himself.  I'd grabbed a couple Q-tips and gently held them in my ear to help remove the drainage.  The first one came out kind of reddish.  But not blood red.  More like, I scratched my knee a couple days ago and now there is a reddish, orange-ish, yellow-tinted scab on it.  That color of red.  The second one came out with a little bit of wax and the fluid was more of a deep brown with a tint of red. (I showed all these to Isaac)  The last two were more of a clear fluid with a tint of pink.  Somewhere in that mix, a big chunk of brown-red-yellow wax came out as well.  I was hoping it was the piece that had been blocking everyone's view yesterday.  Maybe now they'd be able to see something and fix it.


We debated heading out to urgent care, which around here, is similar to the ER, but much quicker.  Since it felt so good to have all that come out, I was in favor of waiting for a little bit to see what would happen.  Maybe that was a stupid idea.  Who knows?  Isaac was okay with that so long as the pain didn't get worse and the drainage didn't turn more red.


This all started about an hour ago and since the original drainage, my ear has leaked three more times.  I am happy to say that each time is less red and more toward the yellow-clear range.  I still have no idea what is wrong with it, and the fact that it is leaking stuff (and normal, healthy ears don't) is probably a good indicator that I should get it checked out.... so we will probably be going to the doctor later on today.


I guess that's one way to get to know people out here.

Birthing Pains & Family Love

Last week Isaac and I were looking at the calendar to figure out when I would be able to go home and shave my head.  We ended up with a couple options: either this past weekend, or the weekend of the 4th of July.  If we chose this past weekend, I would have to go by myself, but I'd have the opportunity to be there from Friday night til Tuesday morning.  If we did the 4th of July, we'd get to go together, but we'd only be there from mid-day Saturday until mid-day Sunday, plus there would be the chance that my hair would already be falling out because chemotherapy starts June 29th.  We talked about it quite a bit on Thursday, but still hadn't arrived at any conclusions.

So I thought.

Then, Friday when he got home from class around 2:30, he asked why I was still there.  I nearly quit breathing for a minute.  I wanted to go home so badly, but I trust that the pain of being separated from my Iowa family will benefit our marriage and so I wasn't going to push too hard.  I asked if he was joking or serious and when he said he was serious, I slowly started to pack, trying not to show how excited I was.

He noticed.

Next think I know, I'm hearing, "Hey, babe.  It's okay for you to be excited to go home."  I have the best, most observant husband ever.  I probably smiled the size of Texas and started running around frantically, grabbing this and that until I thought I had everything I might need for a weekend stay in Iowa.  I was packed in 15 minutes.  My poor husband.  I noticed that he looked a little hurt that I was in such a hurry to leave so I stopped what I was doing and sat on his lap and asked if his feelings were hurt.  They were.  Bummer.  I told him I hadn't meant to do that.  Thankfully, it was more a miscommunication than anything.  He thought I was excited to leave him.  I carefully explained that I love him very much, but I was just excited that I was able to go home (possibly one last time) before I was done with chemotherapy.  Once we got that sorted out, I hit the road.

Driving there was actually pretty quick.  At least, it felt like it.  In reality, it took a little over 10 hours.  I pulled in around 1:30am Saturday morning and lo and behold, Mom was still up.  She came running outside in her pajamas and helped me get my things in and upstairs to my brother's old room.  We talked for a little bit and by 2:30am, I had fallen asleep mid-conversation in a chair in living room.  After waking me up, we both went upstairs and went to bed.

Saturday morning I was hanging out on the couch and Court came downstairs.  She was shocked and then a little annoyed because nobody told her I was coming.  Mom and I then went into the salon and we cut my hair off. I had a good time surprising Jess too!  She screamed, cried, and jumped into the wall because she was so shocked.  Gotta love her.  I was a little nervous, so I asked Erin to cut it a little longer than I should have.  We then lightened it a little bit because it looked like I was wearing a helmet (in my opinion).  Afterward, Mom and I made a trip to Des Moines because I needed some facewash and she wanted something to hold her over between colors.  On our way back home, we stopped by to surprise Ike.  I think we succeeded.

Once home, I decided to lighten my brows because they didn't match my hair and shorten my hair a little bit more.  Mom and I used Dad's clippers and took about another 1/4" off.  I liked it better.  Then we went to meet up with Jess for a late lunch at Chinese Homestyle.  If you've never been there and you love Chinese and live in Ames, you're completely missing out.  It is wicked good stuff!  Then, we needed dessert so we headed over to Chocolaterie Stam and got some gelato and chocolate truffles filled with creme fraiche.  SOOOO GOOOODDDD!!!!!  We ran into an old family friend and got caught up with him.  He also gave me the name of a woman he'd met through rotary who had/has breast cancer.  She apparently loves to talk with people about her experience and he was able to give me her name and email.  I love running into people I know.

Sunday morning rolled around and we went to the 9am at Cornerstone.  It was like walking into a big giant hug from a long-lost friend.  I got a million hugs and got to see many good friends and met some new ones.  However, after celebrating Dad with my Iowa family and Jess, I started to feel a little bit under the weather.  I thought I was getting a fever--and what better cure than sleeping in the sun?  We headed out to the pool and got there around 4 for a couple hours of nice sun sleeping.

When we got home, I didn't feel any worse or better, but I was awfully cold for feeling so hot.  Mom whipped out the thermometer and took my temp: 99 degrees.  So it was a little higher than normal... I could easily sleep that off.  By 9pm though, I wasn't thinking sleep would be enough.  Mom called Isaac, who recommended I use Zicam every 3 hours throughout the night and go to the doctor if my temperature went above 101.  I set my alarm for every 3 hours and took my temp every time I woke up to take another pill.  At 4am, it was at 100.4; at 5:30, it hit 100.7 degrees.  Mom thought that was close enough to 101 degrees to qualify for a visit to the doctor.

We called my oncologist to see what he thought, as well as the surgeon who was going to put my Mediport in later in the week.  Both of them recommended waiting a little bit longer, as fevers often peak and then fall.  Turns out they knew what they were talking about.  I never hit the magical 101 degrees.  At 10am, my temp had dropped to around 96 degrees.  I was feeling pretty good and wanted to go visit some of my friends, but my husband strongly advised against it--especially since 2 of the people I wanted to visit had little ones who I would feel awful if I got sick.

Thankfully, one of my life-long angels, Lydia, offered to come over and hang out with me on Monday.  I encouraged her to take some Vitamin C before coming, but I don't think it worried her all that much.  We chatted for a bit, went to grab some food at Thai Kitchen (my first time EVER there) and then she came to the doctor with me as well. Oh--about the doctor...  After we got back from eating, my temperature had started to go up again (though only to 99) and Mom insisted I go see a family practice doctor.  They did some bloodwork and my white blood cell count was up, indicating my body was trying to fight something off, although we couldn't see it.  The doc perscribed 1000mg of antibiotics twice a day to help fight off anything bacterial.  Anyway, Lydia was sweet enough to stick around while I took a nap.  It was nice just to have her there with me, even though I didn't feel too great.

She had to leave for connection group eventually, and Mom and I went to the mall because we'd been there earlier in the week and bought some clothes.  It just so happened that AFTER we bought them, we found coupons and felt the need to go and return and re-purchase everything so we could use the coupons.  Later on that night, I started to get a sore neck.  I thought it was probably from the pillow that Mom had on my bed.  I'd describe it as more aesthetic than functional... it was about 7" thick and only smooshed down to maybe 3".  I normally sleep on one that only starts out at about 3" thick.  Needless to say, it didn't surprise me that I was developing a stiff neck.  I slept on a hot pad for a couple hours and then it was completely gone.

Once again, I felt pretty good in the morning, so I set out for home with confidence.  A couple hours down the road, my sore throat had moved up into my ears and felt like an ear infection.  My sore throat had also gotten worse--to the point I was breathing shallow and avoiding swallowing unless it was an absolute must.  I'm not sure if I had a fever or not because although I do carry a utility knife in my car, I don't carry a thermometer.  In addition, I started to show symptoms of wry neck--a condition I've had once before where your neck slowly stiffens to the point where you can't turn it at all and any movement (including bumps in the road) send flares of extreme pain throughout your neck region and down your spinal cord.  The only thing you can do about it is to use a heating pad on it and try to stretch your neck muscles out as often as you can.  Last time it happened I missed my brother's high school graduation and open house because I couldn't move.

Anyway, all of this was just getting worse and worse and on top if it, I started crying because I was so uncomfortable, I missed my husband, and I missed my Iowa family--even though I just left them.  I called my husband and he instructed me to stop at the nearest Wal-Mart and grab some Gatorade, Chloroseptic lozenges to numb my throat, and Ibuprofin for my neck and headache.  I accidentally hit a van with my car door when I was leaving but I was so miserable I didn't leave a note.  Thankfully, the Ibuprofin kicked in pretty quickly and took my headache away and reduced the swelling in my neck.  I read the directions on the lozenges and it said for adults to take 1 every 2 hours.  I decided that between 3-4 every hour would be better.  I honestly don't think that 1 every 2 hours would have done ANYTHING.  As it was, they only numbed my throat when I was sucking on them and the effects weren't cumulative by any means, so I just kept popping them in.

By the time I was 2 hours from home I felt like I would rather die than keep driving.  But I was sooo close.  I dug my stubborn feet in and drove 3 miles over the speed limit the rest of the way--while it was downpouring.  Looking back, that might not have been the safest thing to do, but it felt right at the moment.  I was planning on surprising Isaac so I hadn't told him how close I was for a couple hours.  Plus, I didn't want to worry him with how I was feeling.  The plan was to get home and carry what I could of my stuff up to the apartment and getting the rest later.  However, I'm married to superman, so before I even had shut the car off, he was running out of the apartment in the rain to help carry my things in.

So much for surprising him.  Instead, I was the one being surprised.  Later, he informed me that both him and Mom had been tracking me via an app on my phone.  Dumb technology ruined my surprise, but I was so thankful that he was there.  It was a HUGE relief.

Then began the worst night I've had in a long while.

I had arrived around 10:30pm.  Isaac made me eat a whole bowl of Campbell's Chunky Chicken Noodle soup with extra salt and a large glass of grape Kool-Aid.  We talked for a bit and then I took a really hot shower and went to bed.  Or, maybe I should say I tried.

From midnight til 3am I was up on and off, trying to get comfortable with my various ailments.  I slept pretty soundly from 3-5 and then woke up to an extremely painful right ear.  My left ear felt fantastic, but my right... it was a completely different story.  It felt like it was super hot and swelling shut.  We weren't supposed to be at the doctor until 7am, so I decided to read my Bible and get on the computer until Isaac's alarm went off at 6:10am.  He hasn't been sleeping very well himself and didn't even come to bed until around 3.  And since I was in such pain, I figured Job was a good place to start.  If there was anyone who should be able to relate to suffering, it'd be him.  Of course, one of he first things I read is a verse that said, "Shall we accept good from God and not trouble?"  I took that as a sign to endure the pain.  It was the worst I thought I'd ever felt in my ear--ever.  At 6am, I decided it was time to take my pre-surgery shower.

BAD.  IDEA.

A few seconds after stepping under the beautiful, hot stream of water, my ear popped.  Not a small pop either.  It hurt so badly I stifled a scream and started to involuntarily cry.  I was so shocked I threw myself into the shower wall and grabbed at my ear.  Thankfully, after a split second of that, the pain went away and I was praising God it was over.

Turns out it wasn't.

About fifteen seconds after the initial pop, another one happened and I reacted the same way.  And then another and another and another.  By about the fifth time, I accidentally let the scream out and woke Isaac, who came bleary-eyed into the bathroom to see what was going on.  My poor, sweet, sensitive husband....

He was trying to comfort me and ask what was wrong but I was in so much pain I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs at him as he was telling me to calm down.  I felt like there was a knife being plunged into my eardrum again and again and again.  I wanted to punch something, transfer the pain to someone or something else.  I knew he was trying to help me though, so I refrained.  I would have felt awful if I had.  He helped me get out of the shower and dry off and after witnessing another episode, decided we needed to leave for the hospital--NOW.  As I tried to put clothes on, I wasn't sure if I was going to either faint or throw up from the pain.  Thankfully neither happened.

Upon arriving, the receptionist got my information quickly and directed me upstairs to the outpatient surgery ward.  The sweet lady checked us in and then asked if we knew we were there over an hour early.  Isaac told her what was going on and she immediately went to fetch a nurse.  By this time, it had been about 20 minutes since I'd had a "pop" and I thought they might be over.  The nurse came out and asked what was wrong and I told her as best I could, but I got the feeling she wasn't really understanding.  She took me back to a room and told me to pee in a cup and then change into my surgery gown.  I had visits from her, the IV tech, my doctor, an ENT doctor, and the anesthesiologist.  I was getting frustrated and feeling ignored because although I'd been seen by several people, nobody seemed to understand that when I said I was in pain, I didn't mean the type of pain you get when you stub your toe.  I meant the type of pain that feels like I'm birthing a premature child through my eardrum.  Like I'm being stabbed.

Somewhere along the line, my ear acted up again and thankfully, the nurse was present to witness what happened.  She had been sharing a sympathy story that was actually quite irritating, telling me in an "I know what you're talking about" voice that once upon a time her ears had bubbled too and because it had been chronic, she now had tubes in for the next 5 years.  I had just started to tell her that this was WAY beyond bubbling when it popped.  I guess seeing is believing.  She immediately stopped what she was doing and said she'd be right back; they were going to knock me out.

Thank you, Jesus.


They started my IV and minutes later I was out cold.  They woke me up just in time to knock me out again for the Mediport placement surgery.  I really don't remember much of anything after that first round of stuff to put me out though.  When I started to wake up after surgery, they moved me to an upright chair, covered me in blankets, and offered me juice and painkillers.  I was starving and my stomach hurt, (from my starvation, I thought) and so I took the juice down pretty quickly.  Not too long after, the nurse came over to take my IV out and then started to help me stand so I could head home.

I told her I thought I was going to puke on her.  Poor lady... she explained to me that they would need to start another IV and feed me sugar water through it as well as give me a couple of injections of anti-nausea medicine.  Bring it on.  I felt so nasty that another poke actually sounded good.  Unfortunately, I ended up puking anyway.  But I felt SOOOO much better afterward.  After I'd taken in most of the sugar water, they asked how I was feeling and then took my second IV out.  I changed back into my clothes and then they wheeled me out to the curb, where Isaac picked me up.

We got home and I fell asleep for a little bit.  At 2:30pm, Mom called to check on me and make sure I'd taken my drugs because at some point while I was asleep, my husband had to leave for some school stuff and he'd called her to ask her to check in.  He also asked one of his classmates, Jenna, to stop by and check on me as well.  She was sweet and brought me water and saltines.  We talked for a couple hours and then I started feeling drowsy again.  She left and I fell asleep and woke up only when my alarm went off to take my next dose of meds.  And that is how the rest of the night has went.

Sleep.  Drugs.  Saltines.  Ginger Ale.  Sleep.  Drugs.  Iron Chef.  Sleep.  Call Mom.  Chicken Noodle Soup. Brother Ike called.  Blog... and now I'm going to sleep again.

Talk to you later, loved ones.