There have been several moments in life since (and during) treatment where I have been asked to help "spread the word" or purchase a specific product/therapy that is said to aid in either the treatment or cure of cancer.
I've heard things like...
This product will help treat the side effects from treatment.
This product will cure your cancer without any other medical intervention.
This product will help you keep your hair in during treatment.
This product will help you so much, you'll have better "numbers" than people who aren't even going through treatment!
This camp will cure you through a combination of prayer and only organic food.
The list goes on and on. And strangely enough, the people offering these cures were 99% of the time selling them. What a coincidence!
To the person claiming to fix my side effects or cure my cancer via a product: You are preying on my physical condition. You are preying on the nausea, the low energy, the bloating, the puking, and the multitude of digestion issues. You want to tap into the part of me that believes I can beat this sickness--and do it while living like a queen, without side effects and maladies. If you truly convinced that this product will help me, offer to buy me a bottle and we'll see what happens--but don't send me the link to your promotional page, where I can sign up for automatic monthly deliveries for the low price of….
To the person who thinks they can keep my hair from falling out during treatment: You (although sadly misinformed) are trying to prey on my womanly vanity. Do your research. There are studies indicating that 10-15% of people who undergo chemotherapy treatment will keep their hair. I was one of these. And although it thinned, it still grew fast enough I had to cut it every week or two.
To the person who claims to have a product to increase my numbers: Do you even know what numbers you're talking about? No, but you were nice enough to send me a link to a generic video that is in turn, linked to your promotional page where I can purchase for the low price of….
To the person who believed that my lack of faith in God and lack of organic food in my diet was the cause of my illness: F*** you. God giveth and God taketh away. Job went through very hard times and throughout it, his faith was not shaken, yet God didn't reach down and release him from his tribulations. And although he may have had more organic options in his meal plan than I do, I believe that God has more power to heal than any farm-grown, hand-picked avocado. At the point in time that I heard this one, I was so fed up with life I actually wished cancer on a child of the all-organic eater who was expressing her opinions--just so she would know first-hand that eating all-organic didn't exempt anyone.
If you really want to help, ask if there is anything you can do. Sit beside me, even if I'm sleeping (having people near me was one of the most comforting things during treatment). Cook for me. Talk with me. PRAY FOR ME.
But don't try to make money off me.
*Also, a HUGE thank you to those who just endured with us. We needed you and you were there. Thank you!
Showing posts with label nausea. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nausea. Show all posts
Nov 11, 2013
Sep 4, 2013
Pregnancy Thus Far
How is this pregnancy going? Well, let me tell you....
It's nauseating. Like that stench in your garbage disposal that won't go away no matter what you do. I'm doing what I can to cope with it. Isaac went and bought me Sea Bands that I'm scared to take off except when I shower (just in case they're working), I have a stash of corn chips at work to crunch on between meals since an empty stomach seems to trigger queasiness and there's a half-empty bottle of ginger ale in our fridge. Sleep seems to be the best solution, simply because I don't feel anything when I sleep, which brings me to the next thing.
It's exhausting. I want to go to bed at 9pm, sleep til 10am, and then take five naps during the day. Ridiculous.
It's pee-filled. Yes. Pee. Every. Single. Hour. Oh, you said you wanted to sleep, Ashley? Well, too bad! Getting up at least once in the night to go to the bathroom is now routine. It's also not unusual for me to visit "France" at Nordstrom several times a day, too. At least I can play Candy Crush while I'm in there...
It's hot. Literally. I have a thyroid condition that usually makes me extremely sensitive to cold, but right now, no matter what I do, I'm hot. Several times in the past couple of weeks, while I'm making my nightly trip to the throne, I've stopped by the thermostat and lowered the temperature because I've been boiling. Last night Isaac was wearing sweatpants and a blanket. What did I have on? His boxers and a cami.
It's gassy. That's cute! Uh, NOT. I've been doing laps around the floor at Nordstrom because I feel like I have to drop the bomb and keep moving so nobody knows it was me. Thankfully they haven't been awful, but still.... awkward. Sometimes the gas doesn't come out that end, though, and I find myself burping a lot too. Gross and grosser. Especially working in a high-end department store. PS, if you're my co-worker reading this... Sorry. I do what I can.
It's making my stomach a Nazi. I can't eat too often, but I can't wait too long to eat either. Waiting too long, well, that'll earn me a case of nausea. Eat too often? Well, take a guess.... Yep! Nausea for that too! No matter what I do, my stomach is not happy. It's a little hard to find the balance while working at Nordstrom since I don't think they like me taking a break to eat every hour. Hence, my chip stash. Oh, and PS, I put on about 4 pounds in the last week. So much for the weight loss competition I was going to win.
It's not getting me in "the mood." Poor Isaac. It's hard enough for us to connect since our schedules are at odds. Now add that to the above list... you can see the cards are stacked against him. I'm hopeful that will change soon.
Welcome to pregnancy.
It's nauseating. Like that stench in your garbage disposal that won't go away no matter what you do. I'm doing what I can to cope with it. Isaac went and bought me Sea Bands that I'm scared to take off except when I shower (just in case they're working), I have a stash of corn chips at work to crunch on between meals since an empty stomach seems to trigger queasiness and there's a half-empty bottle of ginger ale in our fridge. Sleep seems to be the best solution, simply because I don't feel anything when I sleep, which brings me to the next thing.
It's exhausting. I want to go to bed at 9pm, sleep til 10am, and then take five naps during the day. Ridiculous.
It's pee-filled. Yes. Pee. Every. Single. Hour. Oh, you said you wanted to sleep, Ashley? Well, too bad! Getting up at least once in the night to go to the bathroom is now routine. It's also not unusual for me to visit "France" at Nordstrom several times a day, too. At least I can play Candy Crush while I'm in there...
It's hot. Literally. I have a thyroid condition that usually makes me extremely sensitive to cold, but right now, no matter what I do, I'm hot. Several times in the past couple of weeks, while I'm making my nightly trip to the throne, I've stopped by the thermostat and lowered the temperature because I've been boiling. Last night Isaac was wearing sweatpants and a blanket. What did I have on? His boxers and a cami.
It's gassy. That's cute! Uh, NOT. I've been doing laps around the floor at Nordstrom because I feel like I have to drop the bomb and keep moving so nobody knows it was me. Thankfully they haven't been awful, but still.... awkward. Sometimes the gas doesn't come out that end, though, and I find myself burping a lot too. Gross and grosser. Especially working in a high-end department store. PS, if you're my co-worker reading this... Sorry. I do what I can.
It's making my stomach a Nazi. I can't eat too often, but I can't wait too long to eat either. Waiting too long, well, that'll earn me a case of nausea. Eat too often? Well, take a guess.... Yep! Nausea for that too! No matter what I do, my stomach is not happy. It's a little hard to find the balance while working at Nordstrom since I don't think they like me taking a break to eat every hour. Hence, my chip stash. Oh, and PS, I put on about 4 pounds in the last week. So much for the weight loss competition I was going to win.
It's not getting me in "the mood." Poor Isaac. It's hard enough for us to connect since our schedules are at odds. Now add that to the above list... you can see the cards are stacked against him. I'm hopeful that will change soon.
Welcome to pregnancy.
Jul 23, 2011
This is A First
Along with many other "first" experiences that chemotherapy has provided, I can now add to the list a "head/stomach disconnect," meaning, I can no longer tell when I'm hungry. I would have never thought this would be an issue.
In my pre-cancerous days, it was no big deal for me to sit down and eat at least four to six times a day. I made sure it was healthy (for the most part), but I just really enjoy eating.
However, since second round of chemo, I have discovered that my brain no longer registers when my stomach is hungry. I don't get that hungry feeling--very rarely do I even hear it growl. All of the sudden, I'll just be completely sick to my stomach.
After the first day of this, around midnight, Isaac thought to ask me if I'd eaten anything. Yes, I believe I had, I told him. He proceeded to ask what exactly I'd eaten. To my disbelief, I could only recall a taco and two slices of ham..... but I didn't feel hungry, I only had this sharp pain in my stomach. If food was the problem, I should have FELT hungry before getting these pains. ...right?
I tried eating and I did seem to feel better for a couple of hours. Then the pains were back again. It took a few times of doing this for me to understand that my hormones were so off-whack that my body could no longer signal to me when was the appropriate time to eat. Ridiculous.
So now, like a newborn babe, I have to set a timer for when I need to eat next.
I guess it just goes to show how fickle your body can be.
In my pre-cancerous days, it was no big deal for me to sit down and eat at least four to six times a day. I made sure it was healthy (for the most part), but I just really enjoy eating.
However, since second round of chemo, I have discovered that my brain no longer registers when my stomach is hungry. I don't get that hungry feeling--very rarely do I even hear it growl. All of the sudden, I'll just be completely sick to my stomach.
After the first day of this, around midnight, Isaac thought to ask me if I'd eaten anything. Yes, I believe I had, I told him. He proceeded to ask what exactly I'd eaten. To my disbelief, I could only recall a taco and two slices of ham..... but I didn't feel hungry, I only had this sharp pain in my stomach. If food was the problem, I should have FELT hungry before getting these pains. ...right?
I tried eating and I did seem to feel better for a couple of hours. Then the pains were back again. It took a few times of doing this for me to understand that my hormones were so off-whack that my body could no longer signal to me when was the appropriate time to eat. Ridiculous.
So now, like a newborn babe, I have to set a timer for when I need to eat next.
I guess it just goes to show how fickle your body can be.
Jul 6, 2011
Laughter is Good Medicine
Since my little incident in the shower, I've been able to hear very little out of my right ear. I've grown rather accustomed to it by now and Isaac and I have started calling it my "bad" ear. The other night he just died laughing because we went to bed at the same time (a rarity when you're married to a med school student) and I sleep on the right and he on the left. I was turned on my side facing him, which meant that the bad ear was facing up and my good ear was smothered in pillow-ness.
I was just starting at his oh-so-handsome face as he started to talk. A millisecond into whatever he was saying and I realized I couldn't hear it because my bad ear was the one up. Then, as yet more proof that I am really an old lady, I had to speak those dreaded words you hear from the 90-somethings in retirement homes.
"Heh? What are you saying? Hold on... my good ear is in the pillow."
He. Just. Died.
I hope by now you realize I'm learning to laugh at myself because the alternative lately is probably to cry or get angry, and so as he continued his guffawing, I joined him. Really, if you think about it, I am just a miserable mess. My body has been started more drama in the past month than I care to admit. Let's see what we've got a count on so far (you can click on some of the following for the full scoop if you're behind):
- Excisional Biopsy Surgery
- Diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma IIA
- A million blood tests, PET/CT scan, MUGA scan, and a pulmonary function test
- Fever/headaches/sore throat/wry neck
- Ear erruption that resulted in early anesthesia at my Mediport Surgery, a visit to Urgent Care, AND a visit to the ER
- Mediport Surgery
- Tightness in my neck that Isaac had to crack out (yes, CRACK)
- Nausea and a 3-day nap due to chemotherapy
- Crack-addict-like behaviors from either chemotherapy or compazine (to be determined after the next chemo cycle)
- A yeast infection from the million antibiotics I've been on
- Claw-hand and spastic tongue muscles from a compazine reaction--aka: another trip to the ER
This is why we laugh.
That, and the fact that my husband and mother figured out every loophole in my insurance policy. Not only did we figure out how to work the "guest" status, we also ended up getting a refund of what we had paid for the month of June because my mom figured out I shouldn't have had to switch plans. I bet the insurance people are pissed.
They told her to quit reading the policy.
All in all, when it rains, it pours... and so long as I don't have my hair and makeup done, I'm fine with splashing in the puddles.
Oh, and Em Fedderson, if you're reading this: I had to cut a little over a 1/2" off my hair yesterday to knock it back to where it was when I first cut it. Just sayin'.
Jun 30, 2011
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.
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.
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:
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.
Jun 23, 2011
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.
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.
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.
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