It's over...for now

Last Thursday was my last radiation treatment, and now this chapter is finished...for now.

I thought I would cry, like I did when chemo ended, but I didn't. It's such a relief to be able to come home after work rather than fly out to radiation.

Does this mean cancer is gone? I don't know. I have to have my first mammogram in two weeks. Is it gone? Am I worried? Of course. It's natural to be worried, but I scheduled it right before work, so I can head there so I don't worry too much.

Will I have PTSD, like many patients? Should I see a therapist? What if cancer comes back? Can I do this again?

My hair's coming back; my toes are tingling less. The swelling has gone down in my ankles; my fingernails still look weird. I have energy and more flexibility than I had two months ago. I have checked my breast, and I can't tell what's going on--is that scar tissue or another lump?

I am glad to be finished with this part of my journey, but I still pray for those who are on it.

Joey Feek

Until recently, I hadn't heard of Joey+Rory, but Joey's battle with stage 4 cancer caught my eye right around the time I was having my lumpectomy. Here is a beautiful, talented wife and mother who is caught in the unfair fight with cancer. And she seems to be losing.

I admire her, her strength, her fortitude. I try to stay updated with her progress, and like many of her fans, I hope she wins. I hope she defeats cancer, even though I don't think her prognosis allows for her survival.

Her imminent death makes me sad. Angry too. Angry that this disease is destroying, slowly, a beautiful, talented woman. It's unfair. Cancer's unfair.

I also admire her husband, who is allowing the public to be part of his family for the short time he has his wife with him. I cannot imagine the pain and anguish he suffers each day as he watches his wife die slowly each day.

Joey's strength has given me strength. And an appreciation for life.

Thank you, Joey and Rory.

Swollen Feet and Ankles...No FUN!

For the past couple of weeks, I've been battling swollen feet and ankles. Although I'm not a dainty, skinny woman, I've always had decent legs and nice ankles, so seeing my legs and ankles swollen to twice their size is not pleasant.

It's not my blood pressure; it's fine.

It's not my salt intake; I'm careful.

I am drinking water, at least 70 ounces a day.

I do stand for my job, but they swell even when I'm not standing as much.

I've shown my doctors. They just want to give me a diuretic. I'd like to skip pills, if I can.

I understand it's edema, and it's a result of taxotere. It's uncomfortable and I feel gross.

I've looked up natural remedies to deal with the swelling, and I'm doing most of them.

Each day is a new side effect adventure. I'm impatient and want life to be  normal again.

For anyone reading this, do you have suggestions on reducing the edema in my legs and ankles??

Irresponsibility and the Surgical Tech

Last night, I was notified that a surgical tech who was in the OR when I had to have emergency surgery last November is under investigation for taking needles and using them for himself.

However, I'm not clear on what exactly this guy did; did he use the meds in the needles and then replace the meds with saline? Did he take the used needles for himself? I don't know.

What I do know is that I now have to go have a blood draw so I can be tested to determine if I have HIV, Hep B and/or C from this asshole.

I cannot believe someone can endanger so many people and not give a shit. If someone hadn't caught him, he'd still be at it. I get that addiction is terrible, but after all I've been through--all others have been through medically--now I have this worry as well? It's not enough to have had cancer, chemo, and now radiation. Now I have to worry that I'll have a lifelong, potentially terminal, illness.

I am angry, as I'm sure the 2899 other people affected by this irresponsibility are too. WTF is wrong with people?

Doctors. Augh.

I can't imagine being a doctor. Long hours, stress, not getting a chance to know the patients. Years of schooling and training. I can't imagine the life.

And while many of the doctors I've had throughout this cancer experience have been terrific, and I'll talk about them in a different post, some of the doctors I've had have been cruel and impersonal.

It's not enough to have my entire life invaded with cancer and cancer specialists, radiologists, people touching my boobs. I've also had to experience some doctors who treated me cruelly and unfairly.

The radiologist who had to place the wires in my breast and on either side of my tumor forgot to fully deaden my breast before inserting them. I nearly fell off the table with pain, and I started to cry. I cried so hard, I couldn't stop. I knew the nurses were unhappy with the doctor's treatment of me, but they couldn't say anything in front of me. How could a doctor forget? Oh yeah, she was running late and in a hurry because  my lumpectomy began at 2. I know we all make mistakes, but her carelessness was painful as well as endangering my lumpectomy time.

The radiologist who removed my port is similar. He made me wait 90 minutes for what was supposed to be a short surgery. Even my nurse was frustrated because he was sitting in the back instead of with me. The actual procedure to remove the port was longer than the procedure to place the port. He was rough, rocking my body back and forth, and he didn't wait for the Lidocaine to take effect before he cut into me. He virtually laid on my breast as he wrestled out the port. Stitching me up seemed to be a problem too, and some of the stitches hurt. I tried to laugh through it, but as I look at how bruised I am, I don't understand why I'm more bruised this time than when the port went in.

How about the infectious diseases doctor when I had an abscess in my breast? He refused to come to the hospital to see me the day I was supposed to leave because he was "too busy." He really upset my nurse, who called my surgeon to ask for a prescription instead of waiting for the infectious diseases doctor. My surgeon agreed to give me a prescription, and lo and behold! the infectious diseases doctor wasn't too busy after all as he hurried to see me. Then he had the audacity to sit there and sound disappointed that I didn't have something totally identifiable. Additionally, he prescribed me an antibiotic that made me nauseous. He told me to deal with the nausea. The pharmacist tried to argue him out of the meds, and when he wouldn't budge, she made sure I had some nausea relief meds.

I'd love to tell someone about these doctors, but who do I tell? These doctors get paid regardless. No one evaluates them or asks patients about their care under these doctors. Hell, this last doctor didn't even finish my surgery; a surgical tech did. WTF? What makes doctors think they can treat patients so disrespectfully? I don't expect them to sit and hear my life story, but I do expect to be treated with compassion and care.

World Cancer Day today!

It's rather sad to have a sad 'celebrating' cancer. I mean, I know no one is exactly celebrating cancer, but I've felt fairly negative toward it all day.

More attention needs to be paid toward cancer, definitely, and more money for its research. Treatments have come a long way in the past twenty years, but let's face it, cancer treatments are brutal and ugly. And I live in the USA; I can't imagine what it's like having cancer in a country that has fewer doctors and/or abilities to treat cancer patients.

Some advancements, like placing a port rather than having to start an IV each time a patient goes to chemo has been a great invention. Drug cocktails given to alleviate nausea, poor appetite, bathroom problems, and swelling have helped cancer patients live better lives. I remember when my mom was going through treatment for breast cancer; she turned yellow and couldn't eat anything because it all tasted so bad. I didn't turn yellow, and for only a few days a week did food taste funny.

Then there are problems with insurance, which can limit a patient's access to good care. Insurance dictates whether a procedure is "acceptable" or not. Insurance can refuse a patient's claims. Insurance refuses to pay for breast reconstruction, reduction, or implants because they aren't 'medically necessary,' regardless of the shame a woman might feel about having noticeably lopsided breasts or no breasts.

I feel negative toward World Cancer Day because I think it's something that should be acknowledged more than one day per year (or two, if you count October). There are so many illnesses that science has been able to overcome; it would be nice if researchers had the money to solve this one too.

Chemo Side Effects

I know chemo patients hate the side effects. I like to think I've conquered them, but each time I feel like I'm winning, another side effect rears its ugly head.

Eye twitches: so annoying! Nothing like trying to have a serious conversation while one or both eyes twitch fiercely. 

Neuropathy: oh yes, fingertip pain. And foot pain. My nails actually have blotches under them. 

Tummy troubles: 'nuff said.

Memory loss: um, forgot what I was going to say. Words fail me.

Red spots: no idea what they are, but they're all over my legs. 

Exhaustion and low energy: I'm a middle-aged woman with a child and a full time job. I already have issues with energy and exhaustion, and this doesn't help!

Swelling: this is new. I've gained four pounds in the last couple of days, and my feet, ankles, and hands are super swollen. Ugh. Gross. 

Of course, hair loss. Positives: extra time in the morning, no hair clogging drains, no worries about how it looks. Negatives: cold, cold, cold! people staring, hats and scarves. Did I mention cold?

Chemo's not fun; neither are the side effects. But the alternative is far worse.

Screw the scarf, says the Bald Woman

Before hair loss, I was worried about being bald. I was fairly vain about my luscious locks, and I was sure I would be  hideous without hair. 

I was also sure that scarves and hats would be just fine.

Ha! to both those silly thoughts! 

I hate wearing scarves and hats. No joke. I'd rather walk around bald. I actually like how the air feels as it ruffles my seven longer gray hairs on top of my head. Hats are okay for warmth, but then I get too warm. Scarves are pretty, but they move all over the place. 

No wig for me. When I go to the "cancer beauty salon," I see all the gorgeous wigs and wonder, but the thought of putting one on my head doesn't sound appealing to me. The women who are in there with their wigs look gorgeous! No one would know they were wearing a wig, but I can't bring myself to touch them.

My mom bought a wig when she had breast cancer, and she looked so funny it. She too went bald rather than wear all the scarves and hats. 

I'm not hideous either. I learned I have nice cheekbones. Bald makes my eyes look bigger too. 

Bald doesn't need much care. I like that. I can be in and out of the shower in five minutes, and I'm not spending 10 minutes or more fixing my hair.

Bald sometimes makes me sad, especially after dreaming of long, beautiful hair. But the short hairs on top of my head feel cool as I squoosh them. 

Bald isn't as embarrassing as I thought, either. Unless I take my hat off in public in front of my son. Then he's embarrassed. I try not to embarrass him. 

I wish it were warmer so I ditch the hats completely, but it's still chilly so on they go. 

Bald is my state right now. But I can't wait to see what my hair will look like when it grows back!

Frankenboobs

When this all began, cancer I mean, my surgeon took one look at me and asked if I wanted a double mastectomy or a lumpectomy. I've always hated my breasts; it's hard to love something that you spend a lifetime fending hands from groping and grabbing, so I always thought a double mastectomy would be fine. Until I was faced with one.

I couldn't breathe. The thought of losing both my breasts, eight weeks of work, and then having to have breast reconstruction (if I wanted) was overwhelming. I took the genetics test; I knew I wasn't a breast cancer gene carrier.

Finally, I decided on a lumpectomy, but based on the size of the lump, my surgeon said my breasts would be lopsided. Then she suggested a breast reduction. I felt like I had finally been handed a gift after all. A breast reduction! Smaller boobs!

By the time my surgery rolled around, I was nervous. I wasn't sure I wanted to do this after all. It was too late, though. When I woke up, my boobs looked Frankenstein-esque. Cuts, bruises, holes, stitches. Looking at my breasts, I wasn't sure the entire process was worth it.

Four months later, the scars have healed, the bruises are gone. My neck and back feel better. I feel better about me. Although radiation will do damage to my 'new' boob, it will recover and so will I.

Insurance companies deny women breast reductions after lumpectomies, which is a travesty. Women deserve the chance to feel good about themselves, even when enduring cancer treatments. My plastic surgeon's office fought my insurance company to get this surgery for me. There are far more offices that won't. And far too many insurance companies who feel breast surgery after a lumpectomy or a double mastectomy is 'elective' and unnecessary.

A shame.

Medical bills...WHAT?

I have fairly shitty insurance. I've known that, and because I'm not often sick, I coped with it.

Now that I've had cancer, chemo, and soon radiation, I realize just how shitty it is to get sick in the US. I've already paid about 6000.00 to meet my deductible, and now more bills are starting to roll in. I've decided that "they"--doctors' offices, hospitals, etc.--like to wait until you're more than halfway finished with treatment to start hitting you with the cost. Currently, I owe $1000 to my surgeon for talking to me in August and her assistant for my lumpectomy, a person I never met.

Getting the mail has become a scary necessity. I love getting mail, but since most of my mail relates to medical bills, I hate opening the box. Up next, I assume I'll get billed from the anesthesiologists, the plastic surgeon, some guy named Bill who was in the OR with me, but who I never met. Then the chemo bills will be here. I estimate this venture will cost between $15,000-$20,000, and I have insurance.

What about those who don't have insurance? What happens to them?

My greater worries include my yearly MRIs I'll now need as well as the cost of cancer drugs for the next five years. And although my insurance can't drop me, I'll not be able to find new insurance. Regardless of the Affordable Healthcare Act, insurance companies still turn people away.

I'm angry about what this will cost me, but I'm even angrier that medical costs are so completely out of control. I'm angry that 'regular' people have to forgo medicines and care they need because they have to choose between their family and their health.

For those reading this, what do you think? Are medical costs out of control? How does the average American pay their medical bills?

Acupuncture for the Bald Woman?

Each time I consult a breast cancer site for the latest in a string of chemo side effects, one particular treatment stands out: acupuncture. 

I'm not a fan of needles, even though I get a regular flu shot and have blood draws, so acupuncture has simply been an idea, rolling around in my head. Plus, it's seemed a little 'new agey' to me, like crystals and incense. Finally, my curiosity got the best of me and I made an appointment.

Today was my first session, and I have to say, I was surprised. The needles didn't hurt, and the atmosphere was warm and relaxing. The acupuncturist treated my neuropathy and my exhaustion as well as dry mouth and mouth sores. I'm excited to see what the results are. 

I don't know if my oncologist would approve, but hey, it's my body. I have to do things that I think are right for it. Massage has been a huge relief, I'm sure acupuncture will be too.

If anyone is reading this, have you tried acupuncture? What did you think?

Diva and the Bald Woman

My dog, The Diva, has been my greatest nag throughout this entire cancer process. Not only does she NOT care that I'm feeling bad, but she's consistently insistent on taking our daily walks. And with few exceptions, we've walked regularly throughout this process.

My doctors told me initially that exercise would help me and suggested I walk regularly. Since I was already walking, lifting weights, and going to boot camp class, I felt that wouldn't be a problem. But as things started to happen, my lumpectomy, port placement, chemo, and as the weather grew colder and the days shorter, I began to make excuses as to why I couldn't go walking. Enter The Diva.

The Diva doesn't let up when I get home from a long day at work and would rather lay on the couch than walk  her. She whines, cries, and nags me until I give in, simply to make her stop. If it's snowing, she sits in front of the closet where my coat is, just so I know I can wear my coat and boots to walk. If it's dark, she's satisfied with a shorter walk. The end result of all this exercise is less depression and a satisfied rush when we get home.

We were walking mere days after surgery; we've walked the day of chemo, and the days after chemo. She doesn't care if I'm slow, which is good because I'm frequently slow. She does care if it's not long enough, so we're walking at least two miles each time we're out. I'm not allowed to cut it short, and if I do, The Diva is not a happy girl. She's pushed me to exercise, and I've felt better for that.

I appreciate my Diva girl, mostly because she's not feeling sorry for me. Instead, she's motivating me to take care of myself and to not wallow in pity because I've had cancer and chemo.

And now, it's time for our walk.
 #breastcancer
#breastcancersux
#cancerawareness

Self-Indulgence and the Bald Woman

I'm totally bald. Fourteen days after my first chemo treatment, my hair began to fall out. To make life easier, I had the rest shaved. At first, it was weird and awesome! No more lengthy moments in the bathroom trying to get my hair 'just right.' I found an additional 15 minutes a day! 

But now, two months later, bald sucks. I'm always cold. I'm tired of hats and scarves. My head itches. People stare at me when I'm not wearing a hat. My head screams, "HEY! LOOK AT ME! I HAVE CANCER!" Well, I actually don't have cancer anymore, I just might have cancer cells waiting to join up again. 

I feel...ugly. 

I dream of hair. Long, luscious hair. Combing my hair. The wind tousling my hair. It's a bit shocking when I wake up and find out I'm still...bald. 

So I've decided to indulge myself. Why not? All the money I'm saving on hair cuts, dyes, and products is now going to scalp treatments. Apparently, bald women (and men, I assume) can have scalp treatments that include scalp massage. Wow. I almost hate the idea of having hair if it means I have to give up someone massaging my scalp. Actually, I'd rather have hair. 

But anyway. Today I indulged in a facial. For some women, I assume that's not a big deal, but it is for me. See, chemo drugs are drying my skin, and I think I'm too young to have the latest and greatest wrinkles. So I indulged. 

I laid there, feeling guilty for paying an outrageous sum of money for someone to rub my face, and tried to relax. Cancer carries a lot of stress with it. I wrestled with my guilt for nearly an hour, but I'm glad I indulged. We cancer patients have to sometimes do things that make us feel good about ourselves because we spend so much time hurting and thinking about cancer, doctor's appointments, chemo side effects. 

So today, I the Bald Woman indulged in a facial. 

And it was worth it. 

 #boundtobebald #breastcancersux #chemohair #breastcancer