Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
The Day That Would Never Come... Is HERE!
I can't believe my last infusion is upon us! At the beginning, I kept envisioning myself at the end, thinking that these past 5 months passed by quickly. While I don't really feel exactly that way, at the same time I am surprised to find myself finally here. Though I haven't spent a lot of time reflecting on everything, I have come to realize that I've learned a lot in the past few months.
The most wonderful thing I've learned is that there are a lot of people out there who care about me. I've also learned a lot about friendship. Most of what I've learned has been positive, but there were some real downers along the way. I now know what I need from a friendship for me to consider it real and true. I've learned that ex-boyfriends will probably never be good friends. And I've learned that when faced with a challenging and difficult situation, some friends will fail. But friends whom you never imagined cared so much will step up and be there when you need them. It's funny; some friends I've expected very little of and asked for very little, but got everything I needed from them. And the close ones I've expected more from. I wonder sometimes if that's fair, but in the end, good friends will always be there when you need them.
That probably sounded really selfish and "everything is about me Me ME!" but in a time like this, it is essential to be real to yourself about what you really need. At the beginning of this adventure (I hardly think of it that way now; I look back on the beginning of this blog and think... dang I was spunky!), there were so many people who told me to "take care of me right now." But I was worried about everyone around me, too. In the end, that faded, and I took on treatment like a woman warrior, looking out for me. It's too difficult a time to stress about how everyone else is holding up, or to be putting yourself in bad situations. I realized I could no longer accept any drama that was leading nowhere and making me feel bad. This ended up meaning cutting some people out of my life. But if someone wants to kick you while you're down (which is certainly how I felt sometimes... but didn't discuss it here because I didn't want my blog to go in that direction), the you have to kick them out of your life. I'm sure this is hard to understand for a lot of people, but I think my fellow survivor friends know what I'm talking about. Anyway, out with the bad. In with the good.
It's a strange lesson I've learned, an interesting dichotomy. I've learned a lot about my own personal solidarity because I now know just how strong I am and that I can and have survived chemotherapy treatment (well, as of tomorrow... heh...). But I've also learned that I need people in my life and I can ask for help and not appear pathetic. Mostly the help I've asked for involves me doing something fun and crashing at somebody's place. I've learned to take people up on their offers because they usually meant it, and if they didn't, well... they shouldn't have said it in the first place!
After the big fight (chemo) has been fought, my treatment still won't be totally complete because I still have surgery and radiation to look forward to. The next phase, the one that follows active treatment, will be considerably difficult as well. You see, cancer isn't like a normal owie. You don't treat it and then WHAMMO you're cured. Once I live for five years, THEN I can be considered cured. But there are no guarantees in life, nor are there with cancer. But it is very rare for a triple negative breast cancer to recur after five years. So if I can just keep on keepin' on for five years... I'll hopefully not only make it to thirty, but have long hair and be cured of cancer! I think at that point, I will finally exhale and really know I'm going to live a long time. Like Tom Petty said, "The waiting is the hardest part."
Well, enough of my rantings and ravings and reflections. Tomorrow is a big day, and I'd better get ready for it and get to bed! Thanks for listening, and as always, THANK YOU for your support!
The most wonderful thing I've learned is that there are a lot of people out there who care about me. I've also learned a lot about friendship. Most of what I've learned has been positive, but there were some real downers along the way. I now know what I need from a friendship for me to consider it real and true. I've learned that ex-boyfriends will probably never be good friends. And I've learned that when faced with a challenging and difficult situation, some friends will fail. But friends whom you never imagined cared so much will step up and be there when you need them. It's funny; some friends I've expected very little of and asked for very little, but got everything I needed from them. And the close ones I've expected more from. I wonder sometimes if that's fair, but in the end, good friends will always be there when you need them.
That probably sounded really selfish and "everything is about me Me ME!" but in a time like this, it is essential to be real to yourself about what you really need. At the beginning of this adventure (I hardly think of it that way now; I look back on the beginning of this blog and think... dang I was spunky!), there were so many people who told me to "take care of me right now." But I was worried about everyone around me, too. In the end, that faded, and I took on treatment like a woman warrior, looking out for me. It's too difficult a time to stress about how everyone else is holding up, or to be putting yourself in bad situations. I realized I could no longer accept any drama that was leading nowhere and making me feel bad. This ended up meaning cutting some people out of my life. But if someone wants to kick you while you're down (which is certainly how I felt sometimes... but didn't discuss it here because I didn't want my blog to go in that direction), the you have to kick them out of your life. I'm sure this is hard to understand for a lot of people, but I think my fellow survivor friends know what I'm talking about. Anyway, out with the bad. In with the good.
It's a strange lesson I've learned, an interesting dichotomy. I've learned a lot about my own personal solidarity because I now know just how strong I am and that I can and have survived chemotherapy treatment (well, as of tomorrow... heh...). But I've also learned that I need people in my life and I can ask for help and not appear pathetic. Mostly the help I've asked for involves me doing something fun and crashing at somebody's place. I've learned to take people up on their offers because they usually meant it, and if they didn't, well... they shouldn't have said it in the first place!
After the big fight (chemo) has been fought, my treatment still won't be totally complete because I still have surgery and radiation to look forward to. The next phase, the one that follows active treatment, will be considerably difficult as well. You see, cancer isn't like a normal owie. You don't treat it and then WHAMMO you're cured. Once I live for five years, THEN I can be considered cured. But there are no guarantees in life, nor are there with cancer. But it is very rare for a triple negative breast cancer to recur after five years. So if I can just keep on keepin' on for five years... I'll hopefully not only make it to thirty, but have long hair and be cured of cancer! I think at that point, I will finally exhale and really know I'm going to live a long time. Like Tom Petty said, "The waiting is the hardest part."
Well, enough of my rantings and ravings and reflections. Tomorrow is a big day, and I'd better get ready for it and get to bed! Thanks for listening, and as always, THANK YOU for your support!
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Finishing Chemo with a Tan
Hey all, just a quick one to let you know that I'm back from Mexico and had a marvelous time! Nothing bad happened health-wise, except for a bit of a grumpy stomach, which I think comes naturally after a week in Mexico.
Every day was drenched in sunshine, and I got to swim in the Caribbean every full day we were there. There was some snorkeling, lots of reading, tons of relaxing, a little tanning, and most of all, very frequent eating. It was wonderful! Being around the whole family for the week was fantastic, not stressful at all, and the whole vacation took my mind away from all thoughts of cancer. Being back, it still isn't on my mind full time. I think that will change with my upcoming treatment, but it's nice to feel like my brain has been refreshed by the warm, salty breeze of Playa del Carmen.
I took pictures, of course, but we're having Internet issues at home. I'm currently blogcasting (a word?) to you from a coffee shop downtown, and I forgot to bring my camera to upload the pix. Ah, manana (imagine a squiggly line above that first "n" please).
I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas; I know I did, though it was certainly non-traditional. I think I had fajitas for Christmas dinner? Anyway, while you're at it, have a happy New Year's too. FEC #4 is on Dec. 30, so I'm guessing I'll be down for the count on New Year's Eve. But that's OK, I don't have anyone around I'd really like to kiss at midnight, and I'm doing the best I can to shy away from the booze. Without the kiss and the drinks, what's left to make a New Year's Eve special? Exactly.
As far as that ultrasound I had before I left goes, I still didn't get any clarification at my appointment because the report hadn't made its way to the oncologist's office yet. I have an appointment tomorrow with my actual oncologist, whom I haven't seen in what feels like forever, and will hopefully be able to report back more information then.
I can't believe chemo will be over after I recover from this last one. 5 months flies by when you're feeling like crap! I've learned many a lesson from this experience, but alas, that will have to be saved for another time, another post.
Until then, be merry!
(BTW, my eyebrows are coming in nicely!)
Every day was drenched in sunshine, and I got to swim in the Caribbean every full day we were there. There was some snorkeling, lots of reading, tons of relaxing, a little tanning, and most of all, very frequent eating. It was wonderful! Being around the whole family for the week was fantastic, not stressful at all, and the whole vacation took my mind away from all thoughts of cancer. Being back, it still isn't on my mind full time. I think that will change with my upcoming treatment, but it's nice to feel like my brain has been refreshed by the warm, salty breeze of Playa del Carmen.
I took pictures, of course, but we're having Internet issues at home. I'm currently blogcasting (a word?) to you from a coffee shop downtown, and I forgot to bring my camera to upload the pix. Ah, manana (imagine a squiggly line above that first "n" please).
I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas; I know I did, though it was certainly non-traditional. I think I had fajitas for Christmas dinner? Anyway, while you're at it, have a happy New Year's too. FEC #4 is on Dec. 30, so I'm guessing I'll be down for the count on New Year's Eve. But that's OK, I don't have anyone around I'd really like to kiss at midnight, and I'm doing the best I can to shy away from the booze. Without the kiss and the drinks, what's left to make a New Year's Eve special? Exactly.
As far as that ultrasound I had before I left goes, I still didn't get any clarification at my appointment because the report hadn't made its way to the oncologist's office yet. I have an appointment tomorrow with my actual oncologist, whom I haven't seen in what feels like forever, and will hopefully be able to report back more information then.
I can't believe chemo will be over after I recover from this last one. 5 months flies by when you're feeling like crap! I've learned many a lesson from this experience, but alas, that will have to be saved for another time, another post.
Until then, be merry!
(BTW, my eyebrows are coming in nicely!)
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Not Clear
I'm not really clear on my results, but to relieve any fears, there seems to be nothing new or growing, so that's good.
But they're still there...
Hopefully I'll understand more after my appointment tomorrow.
But they're still there...
Hopefully I'll understand more after my appointment tomorrow.
On Meeting New People
Last night I went out socially for the first time in a long time. I went out alone for the first time in a longer time. It's not exactly that I've become anti-social or anything, just with the timing of going skiing for a week, treatment, and then getting this cold, I haven't been feeling up for too much socialization. But it's just because I've been feeling physically drained, not because I have any aims to become a social recluse. I don't.
So a friend from online wanted to meet up, and he invited me to hang out with the Outdoor Club, a group from CSU who like to do outdoorsy things. I'd blown off meeting up with this guy a few times before but was out of excuses for being lame last night, so I figured, what the heck, life is short, why not meet some more people who like to ski? At the very least, maybe I could meet some people in Fort Collins who like to ski and can give me a ride up to WP sometimes.
It was really awkward and difficult at first because I didn't know ANYBODY at this gathering and just sorta... showed up. I'm a pretty social person and don't feel super uncomfortable meeting new people, but it's not easy to show up and not know anyone in a large group. Anyway, I sat myself down at a table with an open seat and talked to some people. In the end, I met a lot of really nice people who are definitely into skiing, which is always a great thing to have in common. I had a really good time.
But there's one thing that I still don't exactly know how to handle, and that's meeting new people and dealing with the whole cancer thing. I think it might be easier for other people because, while cancer rocks anyone's world when diagnosed, mine was rocked a little extra because I had to move and quit my job. So when I meet people, they often ask questions like, "What do you do?" or "Why did you move back?" I don't always want to get into it all with people I don't know very well (especially a big group); mostly I don't want people to treat me differently. Also, I don't like talking about it all the time. It's not shame or embarrassment really; it's just a personal thing and I hate that to be one of the first things they learn about me; I'm so much more than a disease. I'd rather be "Carrie" instead of "Oh, you mean Cancer Girl?"
So the alternative to getting into it all is answering "What do you do?" with "Not a whole lot." And that makes me sound like a loser. But it also doesn't invite strangers to ask many more questions. I don't regret my decision to not get another job-- it was an impossible time to begin with, and I had no idea what treatment would be like. And I don't plan on staying here forever, so...
Anyway, if anyone has any advice on how to deal with meeting new people and "the cancer thing," please let me know. I'll take any advice I can get on this one!
OK, now I'm off to my imaging appointment. I'll post any results I get later tonight. Wish me well!
So a friend from online wanted to meet up, and he invited me to hang out with the Outdoor Club, a group from CSU who like to do outdoorsy things. I'd blown off meeting up with this guy a few times before but was out of excuses for being lame last night, so I figured, what the heck, life is short, why not meet some more people who like to ski? At the very least, maybe I could meet some people in Fort Collins who like to ski and can give me a ride up to WP sometimes.
It was really awkward and difficult at first because I didn't know ANYBODY at this gathering and just sorta... showed up. I'm a pretty social person and don't feel super uncomfortable meeting new people, but it's not easy to show up and not know anyone in a large group. Anyway, I sat myself down at a table with an open seat and talked to some people. In the end, I met a lot of really nice people who are definitely into skiing, which is always a great thing to have in common. I had a really good time.
But there's one thing that I still don't exactly know how to handle, and that's meeting new people and dealing with the whole cancer thing. I think it might be easier for other people because, while cancer rocks anyone's world when diagnosed, mine was rocked a little extra because I had to move and quit my job. So when I meet people, they often ask questions like, "What do you do?" or "Why did you move back?" I don't always want to get into it all with people I don't know very well (especially a big group); mostly I don't want people to treat me differently. Also, I don't like talking about it all the time. It's not shame or embarrassment really; it's just a personal thing and I hate that to be one of the first things they learn about me; I'm so much more than a disease. I'd rather be "Carrie" instead of "Oh, you mean Cancer Girl?"
So the alternative to getting into it all is answering "What do you do?" with "Not a whole lot." And that makes me sound like a loser. But it also doesn't invite strangers to ask many more questions. I don't regret my decision to not get another job-- it was an impossible time to begin with, and I had no idea what treatment would be like. And I don't plan on staying here forever, so...
Anyway, if anyone has any advice on how to deal with meeting new people and "the cancer thing," please let me know. I'll take any advice I can get on this one!
OK, now I'm off to my imaging appointment. I'll post any results I get later tonight. Wish me well!
Monday, December 15, 2008
I Need a Free Pass
You know, you'd think that when life is giving you lemons, the cosmic powers would somehow give you a free pass from the rest of life's little problems. For example, I have a cold, and I think it's unfair that I have to spend my "good days" feeling icky. But then again, it's probably all my fault.
Since I last posted, I had been feeling shockingly good. I was expecting and dreading about 5 days with "The Ghost," but the darn ghost didn't show up. Thank God! I slept my 20 hours after infusion and woke up Wednesday feeling pretty decent. Thursday was pretty good too. And I knew by Friday I'd probably be feeling back to "normal."
Susan and Nate were planning on going skiing Friday, and I told them I probably couldn't go because I wouldn't be feeling so great. But Thursday evening I was feeling stronger and stronger, and the thought of people skiing without me was too much to bear. And I figured that having a so-so feeling day skiing always beats a so-so feeling day in Fort Collins. So at 4 a.m. on Friday morning, I put on my slippers and went out to my car to take my ski boots out of the trunk. I put them in front of a heat vent inside the house so they'd warm up. I set my alarm for 6:30 and tried to sleep, but was really excited about skiing!
Friday was my first ski day as a Front Ranger in four seasons. I did go for a week a while back, but this was my first day trip, so it brought back lots of memories. It was definitely weird. But we had a nice day skiing, if not short. We took it pretty easy, but I got to wiggle my way down some "moguls" (in quotes because they were just babies) which always lands a grin on this skiing fanatic's mug. Susan twisted her knee and ran into me, so we took the rest of the afternoon pretty easy. In all actuality, we probably skied about 2.5 total hours. But I got to visit with Janet, which is always fantastic, and ski with Matt, which is also always fantastic.
But then when we were headed home, it became apparent that I had caught a cold. I spent the whole weekend just sorta lounging around the house and feeling crappy. I was so mad at myself for getting sick because it was so obviously a bad idea to go skiing so soon after treatment. It was such a bummer to feel sick when I should be feeling well! But in the end, I don't regret going, and of course, I can't wait to go again.
I don't know if everyone knows this or not, but I'm going to Mexico soon! Two years ago, we went to Mexico for Christmas as a family and had a great time. We've been planning this trip for a while now, i.e. before we knew I have cancer. I'm a little nervous to be going out of the country while I'm still in treatment, but my oncologist's office wrote me a prescription for some antibiotics in case anything happens. And it's a good week to be going-- the last week before my last treatment! It's so ridiculously cold here (-2 degrees) that I can hardly wait to be somewhere tropical! It'll be nice to relax on the beach and eat Mexican food. Everyone say their prayers that Montezuma doesn't take any of his revenge on me!
Once I get back, I have just three days until my last treatment. Can you believe it? We're finally reaching the end of chemotherapy. December 30, the day I thought would never come, is only 15 days away. I have some mixed feelings about it, but mostly relief. Well, there's also this other thing...
I have been kinda worried that my tumor has been growing or something. It seemed like I couldn't feel anything after Taxol, but now if I push pretty hard I can feel something. My onc nurse felt it after much trying, but she said she wasn't worried about it from a pathological standpoint. That was good to hear, but then again, that's what my PA said way back in July and look where it landed me. Anyway, she talked with my doctor and they're letting me have some imaging done-- mammogram and ultrasound-- to check it out. I'm not obsessing or freaking out, but I'm a little worried about what they're going to find. I really hope it's nothing, and that when they look for my tumors, they find nothing left. Wouldn't that be great? I really hope they're at least smaller. What I'm very afraid of is that they'll find some sort of change or growth, and that "they" will tell me I have to do more chemo. I really don't want that to happen. I really hope they look and can't find anything at all. Scary scary scary.
Going into my last treatment, now I have no idea what to expect. The first one was absolutely terrible, and the second one was pretty bad too. The third was a breeze. But the last treatment has the reputation of being the hardest, as chemo has a cumulative effect on people. It would be really nice to just be down for a day again and then come out of it like nothing happened. I guess in a way I feel worried that the last treatment didn't "work" because I didn't feel awful. Maybe my body is just getting used to chemo and has become more efficient at getting it out of my system. I have no idea. But it would be nice if the last one was as easy as the third and I could go skiing shortly after.
And after that, a new chapter will begin in this adventure...
Since I last posted, I had been feeling shockingly good. I was expecting and dreading about 5 days with "The Ghost," but the darn ghost didn't show up. Thank God! I slept my 20 hours after infusion and woke up Wednesday feeling pretty decent. Thursday was pretty good too. And I knew by Friday I'd probably be feeling back to "normal."
Susan and Nate were planning on going skiing Friday, and I told them I probably couldn't go because I wouldn't be feeling so great. But Thursday evening I was feeling stronger and stronger, and the thought of people skiing without me was too much to bear. And I figured that having a so-so feeling day skiing always beats a so-so feeling day in Fort Collins. So at 4 a.m. on Friday morning, I put on my slippers and went out to my car to take my ski boots out of the trunk. I put them in front of a heat vent inside the house so they'd warm up. I set my alarm for 6:30 and tried to sleep, but was really excited about skiing!
Friday was my first ski day as a Front Ranger in four seasons. I did go for a week a while back, but this was my first day trip, so it brought back lots of memories. It was definitely weird. But we had a nice day skiing, if not short. We took it pretty easy, but I got to wiggle my way down some "moguls" (in quotes because they were just babies) which always lands a grin on this skiing fanatic's mug. Susan twisted her knee and ran into me, so we took the rest of the afternoon pretty easy. In all actuality, we probably skied about 2.5 total hours. But I got to visit with Janet, which is always fantastic, and ski with Matt, which is also always fantastic.
But then when we were headed home, it became apparent that I had caught a cold. I spent the whole weekend just sorta lounging around the house and feeling crappy. I was so mad at myself for getting sick because it was so obviously a bad idea to go skiing so soon after treatment. It was such a bummer to feel sick when I should be feeling well! But in the end, I don't regret going, and of course, I can't wait to go again.
I don't know if everyone knows this or not, but I'm going to Mexico soon! Two years ago, we went to Mexico for Christmas as a family and had a great time. We've been planning this trip for a while now, i.e. before we knew I have cancer. I'm a little nervous to be going out of the country while I'm still in treatment, but my oncologist's office wrote me a prescription for some antibiotics in case anything happens. And it's a good week to be going-- the last week before my last treatment! It's so ridiculously cold here (-2 degrees) that I can hardly wait to be somewhere tropical! It'll be nice to relax on the beach and eat Mexican food. Everyone say their prayers that Montezuma doesn't take any of his revenge on me!
Once I get back, I have just three days until my last treatment. Can you believe it? We're finally reaching the end of chemotherapy. December 30, the day I thought would never come, is only 15 days away. I have some mixed feelings about it, but mostly relief. Well, there's also this other thing...
I have been kinda worried that my tumor has been growing or something. It seemed like I couldn't feel anything after Taxol, but now if I push pretty hard I can feel something. My onc nurse felt it after much trying, but she said she wasn't worried about it from a pathological standpoint. That was good to hear, but then again, that's what my PA said way back in July and look where it landed me. Anyway, she talked with my doctor and they're letting me have some imaging done-- mammogram and ultrasound-- to check it out. I'm not obsessing or freaking out, but I'm a little worried about what they're going to find. I really hope it's nothing, and that when they look for my tumors, they find nothing left. Wouldn't that be great? I really hope they're at least smaller. What I'm very afraid of is that they'll find some sort of change or growth, and that "they" will tell me I have to do more chemo. I really don't want that to happen. I really hope they look and can't find anything at all. Scary scary scary.
Going into my last treatment, now I have no idea what to expect. The first one was absolutely terrible, and the second one was pretty bad too. The third was a breeze. But the last treatment has the reputation of being the hardest, as chemo has a cumulative effect on people. It would be really nice to just be down for a day again and then come out of it like nothing happened. I guess in a way I feel worried that the last treatment didn't "work" because I didn't feel awful. Maybe my body is just getting used to chemo and has become more efficient at getting it out of my system. I have no idea. But it would be nice if the last one was as easy as the third and I could go skiing shortly after.
And after that, a new chapter will begin in this adventure...
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Super Bald!
I noticed it's been a while since I updated the blog with a current photo of my baldness. I have very little left, and I'm feeling pretty brave to show you my baldness...
But here goes... No makeup, no hair, no nothing!
And here are some cool and festive gel cling decorations that I got at Albertson's for just $1.50!
Post-Chemo Update
Hey yous guys! Guess what? I should be feeling like a puddle of slime, but I actually feel pretty good. I don't know why; maybe the slimy feeling is waiting for later. Or maybe I have become superwoman and am impervious to side effects! Wouldn't that be great? I think maybe the skiing helped somehow-- moving my body and getting some of the extra icky stuff out my system. I don't feel GREAT, but I feel very decent. I'll probably rest and relax all day and go to bed really early again, but... so far no evidence of "The Ghost." This is awesome (so far)!
I went into the chemo place today to get my Neulasta shot and hydration. I've had about 5 liters of fluid today, 4 that I drank and 1 intravenously. And my mouth is still so dry! My sister and mom went out for me to get me a little humidifier, which might help. I hope it does. They also got me some more of this mouthwash that helps a little too. It's already so dry here... The dry mouth is a really annoying side effect.
I forgot to tell you guys about my hairs! I am growing hairs! I plucked my eyebrows for the first time in months the other day. And I can see my eyelashes returning-- they're all the same length and look funny! And there's a light crop of short hairs returning to my scalp. Will they stay? Who knows!??!? But it's exciting to see them there anyway!
Well, keep your fingers crossed, or send positive vibrations, or pray for me that the "Ghost" stays away this time! If it does, I might go ski on Friday (pushing it, I know, and I doubt it'll happen...). Love you all!
I went into the chemo place today to get my Neulasta shot and hydration. I've had about 5 liters of fluid today, 4 that I drank and 1 intravenously. And my mouth is still so dry! My sister and mom went out for me to get me a little humidifier, which might help. I hope it does. They also got me some more of this mouthwash that helps a little too. It's already so dry here... The dry mouth is a really annoying side effect.
I forgot to tell you guys about my hairs! I am growing hairs! I plucked my eyebrows for the first time in months the other day. And I can see my eyelashes returning-- they're all the same length and look funny! And there's a light crop of short hairs returning to my scalp. Will they stay? Who knows!??!? But it's exciting to see them there anyway!
Well, keep your fingers crossed, or send positive vibrations, or pray for me that the "Ghost" stays away this time! If it does, I might go ski on Friday (pushing it, I know, and I doubt it'll happen...). Love you all!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Pre-Chemo Update!
Hey all! Sorry to have left you in the dark for so long. I looked over my blog and my last post was almost two weeks ago! Time flies when you're feelin' good. Seriously.
Tomorrow is FEC #3, so I wanted to make sure that everything here is up to date before I go into "Ghost and Shadow" time. This is the first time I'm really dreading chemo and time after. Usually I'm excited to get it all over with. This time I would rather just keep feeling good. But the exciting thing about it is that tomorrow is my second-to-last infusion, and in 22 days, I'll be having my last infusion. I might not (actually, I definitely will not) have a fun New Year's Eve, but I will be starting 2009 chemo free (side effects not included).
It's hard to believe that chemotherapy treatment is coming to an end. I really can finally feel that the end is in sight. The light at the end of the tunnel. A parting of the clouds in this shit storm.
My plan is to ask for an extra bag of fluids when I go in Wednesday for my Neulasta shot. And then I'd like to get another 2 liters on Thursday, since getting 2 liters on Friday worked wonders on Saturday last treatment. I plan on feeling horrible and getting up to pee about 30 times a day, but hopefully it will make me feel better EVEN FASTER.
This is going to sound sick and wrong, but last treatment I was so sick that I lost my appetite completely (no vomiting, FYI), along with quite a few pounds. Of course, they all came back, and with my recent ski trip (I'll get that later) I'm feeling a little tubby. So I'm sort of looking forward to shedding a few pounds because I'll be too nasty feeling to eat. I know. Wrong. But if I have to have cancer, I'd rather be THIN and have cancer. ;)
Since I've been feeling pretty great, I hate that I have to feel REALLY yucky soon. But I have to do this. I don't really have a choice, so I should just grin and bear it. OK, more like grimace and bear it. We do what we have to do.
I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT!
OK, now that that's out of my system... we can catch up on what I've been doing as of late.
My family had a really nice Thanksgiving, sans only one member of the family, and Michael, we all missed you. My parents had gone out of town just before to visit him, so we had Thanksgiving dinner at my brother David and my sister-in-law Cristi's house for the first time. I was able to taste my dinner and it was delicious! And so was the pie we had for dessert, even if we didn't eat trashbagsful. I was pretty full by then.
After Thanksgiving, I went for a visit to Winter Park, the ski town I was living in before I had to move home for treatment. I left on Saturday and came home on Friday. I was supposed to come home Thursday because I had a follow-up appointment with my oncologist on Friday morning, but it was snowing pretty hard and all the roads were going to be pretty dangerous. I ended up rescheduling my appointment to tomorrow morning before chemo, but it's with my oncology nurse, not my oncologist.
I had such an awesome visit. It was so amazingly therapeutic for me! I had to BUY a season pass this year, which put a sizeable dent in my personal finances, but it's going to be well worth it. I've already made a commitment to ski as much as possible this year. I got in 6 days of early-season, screwing-around, easy skiing in. On my last day, they opened Cranmer, and I got to ski some fake bumps, which felt great. I am, however, in terrible shape and not that strong anymore, and Cranmer made that very clear to me. I would love to be in better shape by the next time I go up, but I have chemo to deal with.
What made my trip so wonderful? Well, for starters, I have a bunch of wonderful friends up in WP who take great care of me while I'm there. Friends were buying me breakfast, lunch and dinner, and the occasional drink, too. And two friends cooked me dinner, on separate nights! Males, nonetheless! And Kelsey, my super ex-roommate, and Valerie, her super new roommate, accommodated me quite comfortably on their living room couch. I ran into a bunch of people I knew, and it was good to say hi to everyone. I got to spend actual quality time with people, which was exciting because I used to be working all the time, leaving little time to spend hanging out with friends.
But most of all, while I was skiing, I wasn't thinking about cancer at all. I would go long periods of time on the hill and then realize, wait a second, I have cancer. I forgot about it. It was like I was back in my normal life. It was an amazing feeling of being carefree and "normal" again. Skiing to me is mentally curative; it will fix any of my mind's troubles.
Anyway, it's getting late and I'm tired. I should clean my room tonight but I don't know if it's worth it. I've been working on this post and chatting on my gmail for a good 3+ hours, so... I'd better wrap things up and get some rest.
Wish me a speedy recovery! And all the best to you!
Tomorrow is FEC #3, so I wanted to make sure that everything here is up to date before I go into "Ghost and Shadow" time. This is the first time I'm really dreading chemo and time after. Usually I'm excited to get it all over with. This time I would rather just keep feeling good. But the exciting thing about it is that tomorrow is my second-to-last infusion, and in 22 days, I'll be having my last infusion. I might not (actually, I definitely will not) have a fun New Year's Eve, but I will be starting 2009 chemo free (side effects not included).
It's hard to believe that chemotherapy treatment is coming to an end. I really can finally feel that the end is in sight. The light at the end of the tunnel. A parting of the clouds in this shit storm.
My plan is to ask for an extra bag of fluids when I go in Wednesday for my Neulasta shot. And then I'd like to get another 2 liters on Thursday, since getting 2 liters on Friday worked wonders on Saturday last treatment. I plan on feeling horrible and getting up to pee about 30 times a day, but hopefully it will make me feel better EVEN FASTER.
This is going to sound sick and wrong, but last treatment I was so sick that I lost my appetite completely (no vomiting, FYI), along with quite a few pounds. Of course, they all came back, and with my recent ski trip (I'll get that later) I'm feeling a little tubby. So I'm sort of looking forward to shedding a few pounds because I'll be too nasty feeling to eat. I know. Wrong. But if I have to have cancer, I'd rather be THIN and have cancer. ;)
Since I've been feeling pretty great, I hate that I have to feel REALLY yucky soon. But I have to do this. I don't really have a choice, so I should just grin and bear it. OK, more like grimace and bear it. We do what we have to do.
I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! I HATE IT!
OK, now that that's out of my system... we can catch up on what I've been doing as of late.
My family had a really nice Thanksgiving, sans only one member of the family, and Michael, we all missed you. My parents had gone out of town just before to visit him, so we had Thanksgiving dinner at my brother David and my sister-in-law Cristi's house for the first time. I was able to taste my dinner and it was delicious! And so was the pie we had for dessert, even if we didn't eat trashbagsful. I was pretty full by then.
After Thanksgiving, I went for a visit to Winter Park, the ski town I was living in before I had to move home for treatment. I left on Saturday and came home on Friday. I was supposed to come home Thursday because I had a follow-up appointment with my oncologist on Friday morning, but it was snowing pretty hard and all the roads were going to be pretty dangerous. I ended up rescheduling my appointment to tomorrow morning before chemo, but it's with my oncology nurse, not my oncologist.
I had such an awesome visit. It was so amazingly therapeutic for me! I had to BUY a season pass this year, which put a sizeable dent in my personal finances, but it's going to be well worth it. I've already made a commitment to ski as much as possible this year. I got in 6 days of early-season, screwing-around, easy skiing in. On my last day, they opened Cranmer, and I got to ski some fake bumps, which felt great. I am, however, in terrible shape and not that strong anymore, and Cranmer made that very clear to me. I would love to be in better shape by the next time I go up, but I have chemo to deal with.
What made my trip so wonderful? Well, for starters, I have a bunch of wonderful friends up in WP who take great care of me while I'm there. Friends were buying me breakfast, lunch and dinner, and the occasional drink, too. And two friends cooked me dinner, on separate nights! Males, nonetheless! And Kelsey, my super ex-roommate, and Valerie, her super new roommate, accommodated me quite comfortably on their living room couch. I ran into a bunch of people I knew, and it was good to say hi to everyone. I got to spend actual quality time with people, which was exciting because I used to be working all the time, leaving little time to spend hanging out with friends.
But most of all, while I was skiing, I wasn't thinking about cancer at all. I would go long periods of time on the hill and then realize, wait a second, I have cancer. I forgot about it. It was like I was back in my normal life. It was an amazing feeling of being carefree and "normal" again. Skiing to me is mentally curative; it will fix any of my mind's troubles.
Anyway, it's getting late and I'm tired. I should clean my room tonight but I don't know if it's worth it. I've been working on this post and chatting on my gmail for a good 3+ hours, so... I'd better wrap things up and get some rest.
Wish me a speedy recovery! And all the best to you!
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
A Thankful Thanksgiving
Right now I should be going through my closet and drawers, getting rid of everything I don't want or need anymore. I also should be moving my winter clothes out of storage and putting my summer clothes into storage. I've been meaning to do this for some time now, but keep putting it off. Lazy lazy. Instead, I'd rather blog... but luckily there's time in this day for both.
Sometimes I get down and think that my life really sucks right now. This doesn't happen so often anymore; I'm getting pretty used to what my life is and what it has become. I guess, in my own way, I've accepted that cancer is just going to have to be a part of my life. There's really no point to fighting it; I have cancer and there's no turning back.
I think it's so strange that in the days leading up to diagnosis, I was so terrified that I could have cancer. The entire thought was just plain scary. And now, only 4 months later, I'm pretty used to it. I think it's that during treatment, you really have to focus on getting better. There are set dates for chemo and days that I know I'll feel like crap and weeks where I'm feeling pretty dandy. While there's still plenty of room for the unexpected, I know, more or less, what I'll be doing and how I'll be feeling from now until the beginning of January. Everything thereafter is still up in the air, but you know what? The first week of January seems like a long time from now, and I can deal with waiting to know what's going to happen after that. Because, again, there's no use fighting it. "It is what it is" has become the mantra defining my existence.
Anyway, let's get to the festive point of this post: I may have cancer, but I still have A LOT to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.
Family: I am so thankful for my family. They've been really supportive through this whole debacle.
My parents came to almost every appointment in the beginning, which was great because my head was swimming. And now they've given me the space to go to my appointments alone, which is what I prefer. They've allowed me to deal with cancer my way, and they have always put my preferences first. I really appreciate that. And for some reason, I thought they'd push me to get a bilateral mastectomy, but that hasn't happened at all. My treatment has been very much up to my doctors and to me. I think, given my young age, being able to make some of these decisions has given me the (false?) feeling that I have some control in this situation. Plus, they spoil me like crazy and I can't help but absolutely adore that...
My sister is the one who has to deal with me the most, and she also has handled me with grace. She lets me complain about feeling like crap without EVER rolling her eyes or getting tired of my whining. She doesn't let me overindulge in self-pity, either, which I think keeps me healthy. She calls me every day after she's done with student teaching to check if I need anything. She has included me to do things with her friends and boyfriend, and I feel like I can always rely on her to be there if and when I need her. She doesn't get mad at me for making her house messy (well, messier might be more accurate) and we take care of each other. Living together again has been the best part of having cancer. We've more or less always been close, but I think this experience has changed, and strengthened, our relationship in a way that will have a lasting impact. I wish everyone could have a sister, and I wish everyone could have a sister like Susan.
My brothers aren't around as much, and that's just fine. I know I have their support, and if I were to be in a bad way (well, a worse way...), I know they'd be here as soon as they could. It would freak me out if they started calling me every day to check on me. Actually, it would probably annoy me a lot. They treat me pretty much the same way as before cancer, and that has a very normalizing effect. I savor things that make me feel normal anymore.
Friends: I am so thankful for all of my friends. They all play different functions through this mess, but I am grateful to have so many people who've stepped up to the plate to help me out.
My friend Amber has been a really great and dependable friend. She knows what hardship is and she knows what it really means to always be there. We've been friends since I was 12, which means we've been friends longer than we haven't. We drifted apart through college, but it feels really nice to know that even through some really hard times, she'll be there. Amber knows how to be a good friend, which in times like these means a lot of selflessness. With her, it isn't "I'll always be there for you unless I have something more important going on," and that's actually something that's very rare to find in a friend. It means a lot that she has made so much time for me when she was pretty busy with a move to the city and a new job.
I'm also very thankful for the friends who made my California trip possible, Kelsey, Sonja and Heather. It's so nice to be able to look back on treatment and remember that it wasn't always terrible and that I had a really good time in California. I was able to not allow cancer take away all my fun, which is a proud accomplishment for me . But it would be untrue to pretend that my trip would have been possible without these three wonderful women. That was such a great trip, and it did wonders for my mental state to get out of the state!
And all the Winter Parkers, whom I don't hear from much, are also a happy source of support. They're all busy and most of them weren't friends I'd talk on the phone with anyway, but I know that when I'm in town, I can count on them to show me a good time. My friend Janet, though, has made a special effort to write me every week and send me some really lovely gifts. I was surprised to find such a faithful friend in Janet because I had no idea she cared so much! She's taken great care of me, and it's wonderful to know someone as caring and fun as she is.
There are also a bunch of random things that I'm really thankful for this year, and they don't fall as neatly under little categories. Or maybe I'm just getting lazy and feel like writing a little more free form...
I'm very thankful that three years ago, when I was moving to the mountains, my dad and I sat down to discuss what kind of insurance to get. I'm so very thankful that we chose a good plan that has covered me well, and that Celtic Insurance has been really great. I'm also thankful that my parents have been paying for my insurance all this time. Like I said, I'm spoiled. I'm rotten. There's no getting around it. :)
In addition to the spoiling, I'm so lucky and thankful to have parents who can afford to take care of me the way they have. It's been a blessing to be able to not work through this time. Yes, there are days when I'm bored and would work in a heartbeat. But there are quite a few days when I feel like trash and cannot even imagine having to pull it together to go to work. The women and men who work through chemo are superheroes in my mind, and I'm so fortunate to have this part of the journey taken care of.
I think for a lot of people, the money stuff-- insurance, medical bills, working-- makes cancer all the more stressful and terrible. I think that if I had no insurance and had to work through chemo, I wouldn't have the good humor to call this "an adventure" but the good sense to call it "a disaster." Cancer this young is awful, yes, but at the same time, I can sometimes see it as the best time to be taking time off (from taking time off... heh...). I could probably have afforded this whole shenanigan, but it would have depleted my life savings. And as my parents put it when they handed me a check, "We're so proud of you working and saving your money and we don't want you to have to spend it all on being sick." Really, I have the best parents in the world. :)
I have so many things that others in this world do not, and for that I'm thankful. I have no needs right now. I have the basics-- food, shelter, warmth-- and then so much more. There is nothing more I could ask for. Which is good because the family has been planning on going to Mexico for Christmas, and I'm still hoping to go. And part of going to Mexico means no presents. Which is great, because...
I have everything I want.
Sometimes I get down and think that my life really sucks right now. This doesn't happen so often anymore; I'm getting pretty used to what my life is and what it has become. I guess, in my own way, I've accepted that cancer is just going to have to be a part of my life. There's really no point to fighting it; I have cancer and there's no turning back.
I think it's so strange that in the days leading up to diagnosis, I was so terrified that I could have cancer. The entire thought was just plain scary. And now, only 4 months later, I'm pretty used to it. I think it's that during treatment, you really have to focus on getting better. There are set dates for chemo and days that I know I'll feel like crap and weeks where I'm feeling pretty dandy. While there's still plenty of room for the unexpected, I know, more or less, what I'll be doing and how I'll be feeling from now until the beginning of January. Everything thereafter is still up in the air, but you know what? The first week of January seems like a long time from now, and I can deal with waiting to know what's going to happen after that. Because, again, there's no use fighting it. "It is what it is" has become the mantra defining my existence.
Anyway, let's get to the festive point of this post: I may have cancer, but I still have A LOT to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.
Family: I am so thankful for my family. They've been really supportive through this whole debacle.
My parents came to almost every appointment in the beginning, which was great because my head was swimming. And now they've given me the space to go to my appointments alone, which is what I prefer. They've allowed me to deal with cancer my way, and they have always put my preferences first. I really appreciate that. And for some reason, I thought they'd push me to get a bilateral mastectomy, but that hasn't happened at all. My treatment has been very much up to my doctors and to me. I think, given my young age, being able to make some of these decisions has given me the (false?) feeling that I have some control in this situation. Plus, they spoil me like crazy and I can't help but absolutely adore that...
My sister is the one who has to deal with me the most, and she also has handled me with grace. She lets me complain about feeling like crap without EVER rolling her eyes or getting tired of my whining. She doesn't let me overindulge in self-pity, either, which I think keeps me healthy. She calls me every day after she's done with student teaching to check if I need anything. She has included me to do things with her friends and boyfriend, and I feel like I can always rely on her to be there if and when I need her. She doesn't get mad at me for making her house messy (well, messier might be more accurate) and we take care of each other. Living together again has been the best part of having cancer. We've more or less always been close, but I think this experience has changed, and strengthened, our relationship in a way that will have a lasting impact. I wish everyone could have a sister, and I wish everyone could have a sister like Susan.
My brothers aren't around as much, and that's just fine. I know I have their support, and if I were to be in a bad way (well, a worse way...), I know they'd be here as soon as they could. It would freak me out if they started calling me every day to check on me. Actually, it would probably annoy me a lot. They treat me pretty much the same way as before cancer, and that has a very normalizing effect. I savor things that make me feel normal anymore.
Friends: I am so thankful for all of my friends. They all play different functions through this mess, but I am grateful to have so many people who've stepped up to the plate to help me out.
My friend Amber has been a really great and dependable friend. She knows what hardship is and she knows what it really means to always be there. We've been friends since I was 12, which means we've been friends longer than we haven't. We drifted apart through college, but it feels really nice to know that even through some really hard times, she'll be there. Amber knows how to be a good friend, which in times like these means a lot of selflessness. With her, it isn't "I'll always be there for you unless I have something more important going on," and that's actually something that's very rare to find in a friend. It means a lot that she has made so much time for me when she was pretty busy with a move to the city and a new job.
I'm also very thankful for the friends who made my California trip possible, Kelsey, Sonja and Heather. It's so nice to be able to look back on treatment and remember that it wasn't always terrible and that I had a really good time in California. I was able to not allow cancer take away all my fun, which is a proud accomplishment for me . But it would be untrue to pretend that my trip would have been possible without these three wonderful women. That was such a great trip, and it did wonders for my mental state to get out of the state!
And all the Winter Parkers, whom I don't hear from much, are also a happy source of support. They're all busy and most of them weren't friends I'd talk on the phone with anyway, but I know that when I'm in town, I can count on them to show me a good time. My friend Janet, though, has made a special effort to write me every week and send me some really lovely gifts. I was surprised to find such a faithful friend in Janet because I had no idea she cared so much! She's taken great care of me, and it's wonderful to know someone as caring and fun as she is.
There are also a bunch of random things that I'm really thankful for this year, and they don't fall as neatly under little categories. Or maybe I'm just getting lazy and feel like writing a little more free form...
I'm very thankful that three years ago, when I was moving to the mountains, my dad and I sat down to discuss what kind of insurance to get. I'm so very thankful that we chose a good plan that has covered me well, and that Celtic Insurance has been really great. I'm also thankful that my parents have been paying for my insurance all this time. Like I said, I'm spoiled. I'm rotten. There's no getting around it. :)
In addition to the spoiling, I'm so lucky and thankful to have parents who can afford to take care of me the way they have. It's been a blessing to be able to not work through this time. Yes, there are days when I'm bored and would work in a heartbeat. But there are quite a few days when I feel like trash and cannot even imagine having to pull it together to go to work. The women and men who work through chemo are superheroes in my mind, and I'm so fortunate to have this part of the journey taken care of.
I think for a lot of people, the money stuff-- insurance, medical bills, working-- makes cancer all the more stressful and terrible. I think that if I had no insurance and had to work through chemo, I wouldn't have the good humor to call this "an adventure" but the good sense to call it "a disaster." Cancer this young is awful, yes, but at the same time, I can sometimes see it as the best time to be taking time off (from taking time off... heh...). I could probably have afforded this whole shenanigan, but it would have depleted my life savings. And as my parents put it when they handed me a check, "We're so proud of you working and saving your money and we don't want you to have to spend it all on being sick." Really, I have the best parents in the world. :)
I have so many things that others in this world do not, and for that I'm thankful. I have no needs right now. I have the basics-- food, shelter, warmth-- and then so much more. There is nothing more I could ask for. Which is good because the family has been planning on going to Mexico for Christmas, and I'm still hoping to go. And part of going to Mexico means no presents. Which is great, because...
I have everything I want.
(Well, except for a clean bill of health, but we'll get to that!)
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I am thankful for you!
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Happy Preamble
The post I just wrote is kinda dark and depressing, a departure from my typical upbeat, you-can-do-it attitude. So in order to balance that out, I thought I'd better share something that's happy.
I missed the Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers show.
OK, that's not happy. I was feeling like total poo the night of the show. I had gone in to the chemo place to get extra fluids pumped into me, but they didn't help. I really wanted to go, but after a while I was realizing that what I REALLY wanted to do was go to sleep. So I decided to give my ticket away and get some extra rest. I was bummed, but more focused on the fact that I felt like a miserable sack of crap.
When I woke up the next day, I still had some residual chemo ickies, but they were fading (finally!). I peed like 20 times before noon, and I'm not exaggerating. I guess the fluids they pumped into me lasted for about a day and then started to really want to come out! As the day went on (and so did the peeing...!), I started to feel better and better. I called up my good buddy Amber, who had come up to Fort Collins the night of the show to see it with me, to see what she was doing. I wondered if she might maybe go with me to the show that night, Saturday night, in Denver, even though she had already come all the way to Fort Collins to see the show here. She was all about it, and was really supportive. We went to see RCPM in Denver and I had a blast! The Peacemakers are maybe a little better when mixed with Mexican beer and some tequila, but it was still really fun. Always a great show!
It really gave me the feeling that I wasn't letting cancer take all my fun away. Actually, I think I have a pretty good time, given the current circumstances.
I missed the Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers show.
OK, that's not happy. I was feeling like total poo the night of the show. I had gone in to the chemo place to get extra fluids pumped into me, but they didn't help. I really wanted to go, but after a while I was realizing that what I REALLY wanted to do was go to sleep. So I decided to give my ticket away and get some extra rest. I was bummed, but more focused on the fact that I felt like a miserable sack of crap.
When I woke up the next day, I still had some residual chemo ickies, but they were fading (finally!). I peed like 20 times before noon, and I'm not exaggerating. I guess the fluids they pumped into me lasted for about a day and then started to really want to come out! As the day went on (and so did the peeing...!), I started to feel better and better. I called up my good buddy Amber, who had come up to Fort Collins the night of the show to see it with me, to see what she was doing. I wondered if she might maybe go with me to the show that night, Saturday night, in Denver, even though she had already come all the way to Fort Collins to see the show here. She was all about it, and was really supportive. We went to see RCPM in Denver and I had a blast! The Peacemakers are maybe a little better when mixed with Mexican beer and some tequila, but it was still really fun. Always a great show!
It really gave me the feeling that I wasn't letting cancer take all my fun away. Actually, I think I have a pretty good time, given the current circumstances.
The Ghost and The Shadow
I've finally made myself comfortable enough to nestle down and post a blog for you (blog a post for you?). I was cold, so I put on a hat. When my bald head gets cold, the rest of me is cold. I now wear a nightcap to bed most nights! (Usually I would have another sort of nightcap... *wink*) I put on a fleece to help warm me up. I am wearing the fuzzy Halloween socks Janet gave me for my birthday, and my slippers are sealing in the warmth to my tootsies. I just microwaved some hot water for a cup of green tea (which has mint in it, unfortunately, but maybe it'll be good anyway... don't especially care for minty tea).
Anecdotal Interruption: The green tea came from my Chemo Angel. I signed up for this program called "Chemo Angels," in which unfamiliar volunteers get matched to people going through chemotherapy treatment. They write letters and give little presents. I thought, "If I have to have chemo, then I may as well get some free stuff out of it." Yeah. Working the system.
Anyway, now that I'm comfy (although I'm going to have to squeeze this tea bag out after it's done steeping), I thought I'd like to share with you, and simultaneously record for me, what it feels like to go through chemo. To me, at least.
I know I described before that chemo felt like the worst hangover you've ever had, and that it doesn't relent for three to four days. While that is a somewhat accurate description, I'd like to get more specific.
For one, I should note that weekly Taxol and triweekly FEC are two totally different cats. Weekly Taxol is like our house cat Lola; kind of annoying, tiring and a bit of a nuisance. FEC is more like a feral, starving and rabid big game cat. It consumes you almost immediately and entirely, and then ravages you until you feel like you have nothing left. In other words, Taxol was "easy" chemo and FEC is... not easy.
Another difference is that Taxol left me in a constant state of "so-so." I would have extra-tired days and then I would have regular-tired days. I was functioning at maybe 65-80% at all times. With FEC, the first few days I'm at maybe a 20%, but that number goes up gradually and continually until I'd say I'm about 90% or more. Hard to say because I have a feeling I'm really out of shape, so that makes a difference.
So what's this about The Ghost and The Shadow? Well, it's my very literary (yes, I'm literary now) way of describing how FEC makes me feel. There are two aspects, naturally: The Ghost and The Shadow.
The Ghost is a feeling. It's not something tangible; it's more like a diaphanous entity that clings to me and won't leave until all the FEC seems to be out of my system. The Ghost is a lingering sensation that things are not right. It's an all-over feeling, but it mostly resides in my head (not in a psychobabble way, more akin to a headache). The Ghost makes me feel like no matter what I'm doing, I don't want to be doing it, and if I were to do something else, I wouldn't want to be doing that either. It's a restless feeling, a feeling that nothing is or feels right or good, and nothing can be done to change that fact.
When it gets almost unbearable, it's a feeling that I know I need to sleep but I'm tired and bored of sleeping, yet don't have the energy to do anything else. So I lie on the couch or in my bed like a lump until it's an acceptable time to take a pill to make me sleepy again. Everything becomes a chore, from getting up to go to the bathroom to trying to eat something. To changing the channel on the TV, to propping up a pillow. When I'm really sick, I can hardly move and I just sleep through The Ghost. But once I start coming back to myself, I feel like I can't hold still; that if I just do the right thing I will feel better. It's a feeling of struggle, as if I could work through it somehow but just can't seem to make it go away.
The Shadow, on the other hand, is how I would describe what I become. I am no longer Carrie in the typical sense, but a shadow of Carrie. The same shape, size and approximate image of Carrie, just fainter. Weaker. Becoming The Shadow breaks my life down into very small bits-- bits that are manageable to my strength at the time. If I am strong enough, I'll go to breakfast. If I need to go to the doctor's office, I go to the doctor's office. I do very few things I don't HAVE to do, and I perform only the mandatory tasks.
As The Shadow, my mood and thoughts get very dark and gloomy. When I feel sick, I just can't help but only see the negative side of things and feel hopeless. I think that's a natural reaction to feeling like sludge. When I am The Shadow, I get the increasing feeling that it is not humanly possible for me to live a full and long life without getting cancer again. I realize that many people beat cancer once only to have it come back to kill them. I think about the women living with metastatic disease with no end date for treatment in sight. I wonder whether I have the strength to fight this disease again. I consider that they say if I live another 5 or 7 years (not clear which is the magic number), then I can rest easy, that I can call myself "cured." But then I realize that dying in 5 to 7 years is really pretty soon, too soon. I wonder if I'll ever feel better, and if I don't, what I will do. How much is your life worth when you feel like crap? Like I said, my thoughts get very dark. I even asked my poor sister on my worst day, "Do you think I'll live very long?" Unfair question, and I hope I didn't scare or creep the hell out of her. But when you feel that miserable, it's hard to feel like you're going to live forever.
The Shadow has forced me to start thinking about my own mortality. I think most people my age are still in the "I'm gonna live forever" mentality. I wouldn't say I'm staring Death in the face and trying to see who will flinch first. I'm just realizing more that maybe I won't live to be 75. Or 50. It's scary, so I don't think about it that deeply (at least not yet) but the questions having to do with my future supply variable answers depending on just how long that future might be.
Sometimes I still feel like I'm gonna live forever though. So don't get too worried. It's just that the major fallacy that has come to define me-- "You're really so healthy, except you have cancer"-- mixes things up considerably.
DISCLAIMER: I hope that this post didn't freak you out or make you think I'm all Death And Doom all the time. I just wanted to share what chemo is like for me, and to have it written down for me sometime later, when all this is just a bad phase I went through in my twenties.
Anecdotal Interruption: The green tea came from my Chemo Angel. I signed up for this program called "Chemo Angels," in which unfamiliar volunteers get matched to people going through chemotherapy treatment. They write letters and give little presents. I thought, "If I have to have chemo, then I may as well get some free stuff out of it." Yeah. Working the system.
Anyway, now that I'm comfy (although I'm going to have to squeeze this tea bag out after it's done steeping), I thought I'd like to share with you, and simultaneously record for me, what it feels like to go through chemo. To me, at least.
I know I described before that chemo felt like the worst hangover you've ever had, and that it doesn't relent for three to four days. While that is a somewhat accurate description, I'd like to get more specific.
For one, I should note that weekly Taxol and triweekly FEC are two totally different cats. Weekly Taxol is like our house cat Lola; kind of annoying, tiring and a bit of a nuisance. FEC is more like a feral, starving and rabid big game cat. It consumes you almost immediately and entirely, and then ravages you until you feel like you have nothing left. In other words, Taxol was "easy" chemo and FEC is... not easy.
Another difference is that Taxol left me in a constant state of "so-so." I would have extra-tired days and then I would have regular-tired days. I was functioning at maybe 65-80% at all times. With FEC, the first few days I'm at maybe a 20%, but that number goes up gradually and continually until I'd say I'm about 90% or more. Hard to say because I have a feeling I'm really out of shape, so that makes a difference.
So what's this about The Ghost and The Shadow? Well, it's my very literary (yes, I'm literary now) way of describing how FEC makes me feel. There are two aspects, naturally: The Ghost and The Shadow.
The Ghost is a feeling. It's not something tangible; it's more like a diaphanous entity that clings to me and won't leave until all the FEC seems to be out of my system. The Ghost is a lingering sensation that things are not right. It's an all-over feeling, but it mostly resides in my head (not in a psychobabble way, more akin to a headache). The Ghost makes me feel like no matter what I'm doing, I don't want to be doing it, and if I were to do something else, I wouldn't want to be doing that either. It's a restless feeling, a feeling that nothing is or feels right or good, and nothing can be done to change that fact.
When it gets almost unbearable, it's a feeling that I know I need to sleep but I'm tired and bored of sleeping, yet don't have the energy to do anything else. So I lie on the couch or in my bed like a lump until it's an acceptable time to take a pill to make me sleepy again. Everything becomes a chore, from getting up to go to the bathroom to trying to eat something. To changing the channel on the TV, to propping up a pillow. When I'm really sick, I can hardly move and I just sleep through The Ghost. But once I start coming back to myself, I feel like I can't hold still; that if I just do the right thing I will feel better. It's a feeling of struggle, as if I could work through it somehow but just can't seem to make it go away.
The Shadow, on the other hand, is how I would describe what I become. I am no longer Carrie in the typical sense, but a shadow of Carrie. The same shape, size and approximate image of Carrie, just fainter. Weaker. Becoming The Shadow breaks my life down into very small bits-- bits that are manageable to my strength at the time. If I am strong enough, I'll go to breakfast. If I need to go to the doctor's office, I go to the doctor's office. I do very few things I don't HAVE to do, and I perform only the mandatory tasks.
As The Shadow, my mood and thoughts get very dark and gloomy. When I feel sick, I just can't help but only see the negative side of things and feel hopeless. I think that's a natural reaction to feeling like sludge. When I am The Shadow, I get the increasing feeling that it is not humanly possible for me to live a full and long life without getting cancer again. I realize that many people beat cancer once only to have it come back to kill them. I think about the women living with metastatic disease with no end date for treatment in sight. I wonder whether I have the strength to fight this disease again. I consider that they say if I live another 5 or 7 years (not clear which is the magic number), then I can rest easy, that I can call myself "cured." But then I realize that dying in 5 to 7 years is really pretty soon, too soon. I wonder if I'll ever feel better, and if I don't, what I will do. How much is your life worth when you feel like crap? Like I said, my thoughts get very dark. I even asked my poor sister on my worst day, "Do you think I'll live very long?" Unfair question, and I hope I didn't scare or creep the hell out of her. But when you feel that miserable, it's hard to feel like you're going to live forever.
The Shadow has forced me to start thinking about my own mortality. I think most people my age are still in the "I'm gonna live forever" mentality. I wouldn't say I'm staring Death in the face and trying to see who will flinch first. I'm just realizing more that maybe I won't live to be 75. Or 50. It's scary, so I don't think about it that deeply (at least not yet) but the questions having to do with my future supply variable answers depending on just how long that future might be.
Sometimes I still feel like I'm gonna live forever though. So don't get too worried. It's just that the major fallacy that has come to define me-- "You're really so healthy, except you have cancer"-- mixes things up considerably.
DISCLAIMER: I hope that this post didn't freak you out or make you think I'm all Death And Doom all the time. I just wanted to share what chemo is like for me, and to have it written down for me sometime later, when all this is just a bad phase I went through in my twenties.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
The Bottom of the Barrel
You know the term "scraping from the bottom of the barrel?" Well, if you were to perform said operation, you would be scraping me up. At least that's how I feel!
I'm back into the chemo swing, which is good and bad. Good to make more progress towards the eventual finish line, and bad because it makes me feel all crappy. I am pretty tired and am about to drug myself to sleep. Ugh.
I was having some back pain that was scaring me, but my x-rays came back clean. My onc nurse think I would benefit from some therapeutic massage. Too bad I don't have a sexy boyfriend to rub my back! But I do have some contact information for a foundation around here that will get me some free massage. YAY!
I think Winter Park opened today; this is the first year I won't be there as a resident in three years. :(
Anyway, to the bat cave. Just wanted you to know I'm still alive. Barely. ;)
I'm back into the chemo swing, which is good and bad. Good to make more progress towards the eventual finish line, and bad because it makes me feel all crappy. I am pretty tired and am about to drug myself to sleep. Ugh.
I was having some back pain that was scaring me, but my x-rays came back clean. My onc nurse think I would benefit from some therapeutic massage. Too bad I don't have a sexy boyfriend to rub my back! But I do have some contact information for a foundation around here that will get me some free massage. YAY!
I think Winter Park opened today; this is the first year I won't be there as a resident in three years. :(
Anyway, to the bat cave. Just wanted you to know I'm still alive. Barely. ;)
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Weekend Update!
Hey everyone, just checking in to say that I'm still feeling good! And I had a really nice weekend.
Someone recommended I watch the series Freaks and Geeks on DVD. It's so great! I'm addicted. So I watched a bunch of episodes of that on my cool TV. That was fun.
Also, my sister and her boyfriend came home yesterday with a bunch of groceries. She said, "We're making sushi tonight!" I thought to myself "Great, and I can't have any." But in the end, they were making sushi with cooked fish, and it was delicious! And it was really fun! My taste buds are almost 100% back which makes my life so much better. So Saturday night was a blast!
And today I didn't do much. I did go for a nice walk. It's perfect walking weather. And I think I might move myself up to attempting to jog. It would be so nice to feel in shape for when I do eventually go skiing. I'm thinking I'll go sometime after Thanksgiving.
I'm really hoping that the next treatment goes a little better than this last one has. I was feeling funky for 8 days! This time I get chemo on Tuesday, November 18, and there's a Peacemakers concert on Friday, November 21. I'm pretty much saying that I WILL GO to the show, but if I'm in really rough shape... nah I'm not even gonna consider that. And they play in Denver the next night, so...
I'm also glad that I should be able to taste my Thanksgiving dinner. The timing is pretty good for that one.
I'm a little nervous for the next treatment because the last one was so unpleasant, but I'm hoping that since I'll be going into it feeling good, it won't be as bad as last time. Last time I was feeling like I was getting sick, plus I also felt pretty beaten down by 12 weeks of Taxol. So please hope and pray with me that FEC #2 will be easier than #1!
I think I might be going to Denver next weekend to visit some friends and do some fun stuff. Maybe catch a Nuggets game or go to the art museum. Who knows?!?! I need to find more stuff to do with my newfound energy!
Someone recommended I watch the series Freaks and Geeks on DVD. It's so great! I'm addicted. So I watched a bunch of episodes of that on my cool TV. That was fun.
Also, my sister and her boyfriend came home yesterday with a bunch of groceries. She said, "We're making sushi tonight!" I thought to myself "Great, and I can't have any." But in the end, they were making sushi with cooked fish, and it was delicious! And it was really fun! My taste buds are almost 100% back which makes my life so much better. So Saturday night was a blast!
And today I didn't do much. I did go for a nice walk. It's perfect walking weather. And I think I might move myself up to attempting to jog. It would be so nice to feel in shape for when I do eventually go skiing. I'm thinking I'll go sometime after Thanksgiving.
I'm really hoping that the next treatment goes a little better than this last one has. I was feeling funky for 8 days! This time I get chemo on Tuesday, November 18, and there's a Peacemakers concert on Friday, November 21. I'm pretty much saying that I WILL GO to the show, but if I'm in really rough shape... nah I'm not even gonna consider that. And they play in Denver the next night, so...
I'm also glad that I should be able to taste my Thanksgiving dinner. The timing is pretty good for that one.
I'm a little nervous for the next treatment because the last one was so unpleasant, but I'm hoping that since I'll be going into it feeling good, it won't be as bad as last time. Last time I was feeling like I was getting sick, plus I also felt pretty beaten down by 12 weeks of Taxol. So please hope and pray with me that FEC #2 will be easier than #1!
I think I might be going to Denver next weekend to visit some friends and do some fun stuff. Maybe catch a Nuggets game or go to the art museum. Who knows?!?! I need to find more stuff to do with my newfound energy!
Friday, November 7, 2008
Why?
Why is this happening to me? It's still not a bad dream, or else I'm still not waking up. I think the worst part is, I'm not alone. So why is this happening to so many young women?
I believe a cure to cancer will be found in my lifetime. I have to believe this.
Jen, I'm thinking about you. Catherine, I'm thinking about you. All of you YSC girls, I'm thinking about you. Everyone in the world struggling with cancer, I am thinking about you tonight.
This has got to stop. Cancer has got to stop. It makes me literally sick to think that women are diagnosed with this horrible disease every day.
This has got to stop.
I believe a cure to cancer will be found in my lifetime. I have to believe this.
Jen, I'm thinking about you. Catherine, I'm thinking about you. All of you YSC girls, I'm thinking about you. Everyone in the world struggling with cancer, I am thinking about you tonight.
This has got to stop. Cancer has got to stop. It makes me literally sick to think that women are diagnosed with this horrible disease every day.
This has got to stop.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Today is the Day!
Today is the day that I finally feel as good as I usually do. YAY! I wonder how I'll be feeling in the next 12 days (that's how many days until my next treatment, November 18), hopefully better and better!
It was really great yesterday to go to my follow up and not have to get chemo. A girl could get used to this.
Those really sick days are almost a memory (short memory, huh?); I'd rather live in the moment when I feel well. I know there will be more sick days to come, but today is the first day I haven't needed to lie down and haven't felt exhausted by 7:30 p.m. and haven't needed a nausea pill. The feeling in the bottoms of my feet is back. And the bad taste in my mouth is gone. While I am losing my hair again, my nails are still dark, and I still can't taste that well, I'd say we're makin' progress folks. I went for a walk to the grocery store to pick up ingredients to make banana nut muffins with streusel topping. And my back didn't hurt enough to take any Tylenol! I hope I'm not speaking too soon, but I'm planning on feeling better and better, and the original goal was to be feeling good by Friday. Wahoo, I'm early!
If you'd like a description of what a bad chemo day feels like, it feels like the WORST hangover you've ever had for about the first three days. And it gets better VERY slowly. And for the past 8 days I've had an "icky" feeling that endures all day, which somehow involves a mild headache, a weird tummy, and a restlessness in my body.
Well, it's not yet 10:00 p.m. and I'm tired. I had a pretty boring day, but at least I felt good! I hope every treatment I can be feeling good by the Wednesday 9 days after.
I'm thinking about going skiing at Copper this weekend. Anyone planning on going? Or want to? I'm sure it'll just be some groomers, but I know it's been snowing up there...
It was really great yesterday to go to my follow up and not have to get chemo. A girl could get used to this.
Those really sick days are almost a memory (short memory, huh?); I'd rather live in the moment when I feel well. I know there will be more sick days to come, but today is the first day I haven't needed to lie down and haven't felt exhausted by 7:30 p.m. and haven't needed a nausea pill. The feeling in the bottoms of my feet is back. And the bad taste in my mouth is gone. While I am losing my hair again, my nails are still dark, and I still can't taste that well, I'd say we're makin' progress folks. I went for a walk to the grocery store to pick up ingredients to make banana nut muffins with streusel topping. And my back didn't hurt enough to take any Tylenol! I hope I'm not speaking too soon, but I'm planning on feeling better and better, and the original goal was to be feeling good by Friday. Wahoo, I'm early!
If you'd like a description of what a bad chemo day feels like, it feels like the WORST hangover you've ever had for about the first three days. And it gets better VERY slowly. And for the past 8 days I've had an "icky" feeling that endures all day, which somehow involves a mild headache, a weird tummy, and a restlessness in my body.
Well, it's not yet 10:00 p.m. and I'm tired. I had a pretty boring day, but at least I felt good! I hope every treatment I can be feeling good by the Wednesday 9 days after.
I'm thinking about going skiing at Copper this weekend. Anyone planning on going? Or want to? I'm sure it'll just be some groomers, but I know it's been snowing up there...
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
What Happens At Chemo Doesn't Stay At Chemo
This isn't Las Vegas, folks, it's Cancerland! And I've been wanting to share with you what exactly goes on at chemo. Unfortunately for my viewers at home, I usually go to chemo alone, so there's nobody to take pictures of the whole process. Because I was nervous and scared to start my new drugs, and also because I knew I wouldn't be getting my sleepytime Benadryl, my sister came with me on Tuesday to keep me company, calm my nerves, and fight off boredom. She also volunteered to be my documentary photographer for this post!
So here's what happens, if you ever wondered...
WARNING: I look like a "sick person" in this post. I didn't really know how I looked until I saw these photos! I think it's partially the hat... and being hooked up to machines doesn't help, either...
So here's what happens, if you ever wondered...
WARNING: I look like a "sick person" in this post. I didn't really know how I looked until I saw these photos! I think it's partially the hat... and being hooked up to machines doesn't help, either...
What Happens at Chemo...
Here we are, getting ready for chemo. Each time I go, I get my little table ready with all my crap, including water, juice, snacks, my phone, Gameboy, etc. I also get my blankets ready, take off my shoes, remove my jacket and get my prayer shawl (thanks Auntie Alice!) around me so I don't get cold.
Usually someone takes my vitals first (temperature, blood pressure and oxygenation), but this time we got right to the bloodwork and my vitals were taken later. Here, my favorite nurse, Nurse K., is rubbing some sort of sterilizer stuff all over my arm where my port is. This sterilizes my skin so we don't have cooties all over. It feels cold and smells like rubbing alcohol...
Once my arm is cleaned, Nurse K. finds my port with her fingers. She then puts the needle (eek!) right into my port. It doesn't hurt, though, because I put lidocaine on it about 45 minutes beforehand. The yellow thing in the picture is sort of like a handle on the needle.
Then Nurse K. tapes down the needle and tubes so that they don't get caught on things or torn out of my arm (ouch, that would seriously hurt!). Before, they weren't taped this securely because usually the needle came out at the end of chemo. But with the new drugs, I get hydration (saline) the next day, so I kept the needle in my arm overnight to avoid getting poked again.
Once everything is taped down, Nurse K. pushes a syringe of saline into my port. This clears it out, flushing crud out of the way. Then she pulls blood right from the same port, proving the the passageway is clear. My blood will be tested after this to make sure my white counts, red counts and platelets are high enough to receieve chemotherapy. You can tell it's working cuz you can see my blood! EWWW!
Nurse K. pulls two (I think) syringes of blood from my port. Don't worry; I can't feel any of it. Then the blood gets transferred into three separate vaccuum vials to be tested.
Here I am, all hooked up and waiting for my blood test results!
Me again, attached to many things. On the left, there's a machine taking my blood pressure. On my finger on the right side (my left finger though), is a sensor taking my blood oxygenation. (All that usually happens very first, but it doesn't really matter when...) And on the right, there's Nurse K. messing with some tubes of stuff going in my veins.
We got my blood test results back, and though my white blood cell (especially my granulocytes, the WBCs that fight infection) and red blood cell counts were a little low, I was still OK to get chemo. With the new chemo drugs, I take a special anti-nausea medicine called Emend. This is my Emend pill, which I got the clearance to take because I was getting chemo. I take this pill after my blood tests come back OK, and before chemo goes in me. I have two other pills to take the day after, and the day after that too.
Here's a picture of my chemo meds and a pump. The pump's mechanism is still a mystery to me, but somehow that green machine controls how quickly liquid is infused (or dripped) into me. I wanted to show you the Epirubicin, which is red. It actually turns your pee red. Well, pinkish orange. I have receive lots of bags of fluids: anti-nausea medication, a steroid, three different chemo meds, and saline hydration.
Me, hanging out, gettin' chemo, like I do...
Here's my arm, after I was all done infusing chemo into me. When all those meds were in me, Nurse K. flushed my port again with saline and then put heparin, an anti-coagulant, in my port to keep blood cells from sticking to my port. After that, my arm was all packed up so that they needle could stay in my arm, allowing us to avoid re-accessing it again the next day. We're done, let's go!
I hope you enjoyed our educational segment on CarrieHatesCancer today. Please stay tuned, and as always, thanks you for your support!
Alternative Therapy
I forgot to mention some alternative therapy I received about a week ago...
RETAIL THERAPY!
Thanks to my lovely mom, I got two new coats, three news hats, and a new scarf. I will probably have pictures later on... but lemme just say, retail therapy kicks chemotherapy's butt EVERY TIME. I think Mom was feeling bad for me because I was starting the new scary drugs.
So thanks Mom, for brightening my days!
RETAIL THERAPY!
Thanks to my lovely mom, I got two new coats, three news hats, and a new scarf. I will probably have pictures later on... but lemme just say, retail therapy kicks chemotherapy's butt EVERY TIME. I think Mom was feeling bad for me because I was starting the new scary drugs.
So thanks Mom, for brightening my days!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Halloween... Wah.
I'm feeling sorry for myself tonight. It's Halloween, one of my favorite holidays! I really love to get dressed up and go downtown and see all the college kids in costumes. It's so fun! This year I don't have the energy. I'm all achey and feel icky and tired.
I took a bath though...
Chemo and cancer are no fun. No fun at all.
:(
Somebody call the wambulance. (OK pity party over. Will be more of a trooper now.)
I.E., I'm going to bed before 10:30 on All Hallows Eve.
I took a bath though...
Chemo and cancer are no fun. No fun at all.
:(
Somebody call the wambulance. (OK pity party over. Will be more of a trooper now.)
I.E., I'm going to bed before 10:30 on All Hallows Eve.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Short Update
I am so tired. Soooo tired. Sleeping sleeping. zZZZzzzZZZZzzzZZZzzzz.
Thanks Paulette for those gorgeous flowers! Way to make a girl feel loved... and like a girl again! I think I scared the delivery chick though, with my bald head and all...! I don't have your phone number because I lost it... ever heard of chemo brain? Anyway, I'd like to call you to give you a real thanks...!
Thanks Paulette for those gorgeous flowers! Way to make a girl feel loved... and like a girl again! I think I scared the delivery chick though, with my bald head and all...! I don't have your phone number because I lost it... ever heard of chemo brain? Anyway, I'd like to call you to give you a real thanks...!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
First FEC... "Freakin' Evil Compound"
So I had my first infusion of FEC on Tuesday, Oct 28. Let's take a step back and I'll tell you the side effects of each drug, like I did with Taxol way back when...
These were all copied directly from the sheets I got from the onc's office. Please don't sue me for plagiarism or copyright infringement!
5-Fluorouricil (5-FU)Usually given intravenously
Often given with other chemotherapy drugs
Some of the side effects may include:
1. Nausea and vomiting; usually very mild2. Bone marrow suppression
a. Red blood cells, white blood cells and platelet counts will all drop, reaching their lowest point (nadir) at 9-14 days after administration.
b. All counts will recover by themselves. No specific diet or activity will hasten this recovery.
3. Alopecia (hair loss)
a. Hair may thin, starting 2-3 weeks after administration.
b. Temporary; hair will return after therapy stops.
4. Loss of taste and appetite; both will return after therapy stops.
5. Stomatitis
a. Small sores progressing to shallow ulceration
b. May start as a painful tongue or generalized sore mouth. Notify nurse or doctor is you notice this.
6. Diarrhea
a. Notify the nurse or doctor is this occurs.
b. Doses may need to be decreased of therapy interrupted.
7. Skin Changes
a. 5-FU can make you more sensitive to the sun so wearing sun screen is important.
b. The palms of your hands and soles of your feet can become red, sore and cracked.
c. Use a good moisturizer daily on your skin.
d. Notify is of any ski irritation.
Epirubicin (Ellence)
Given Intravenously
Frequently given in combination with other chemotherapy drugs
Some of the more common side effects include:
1. Nausea/Vomiting
a. May start soon after administration and last several hours to several days.
b. You will be given anti-nausea medications prior to treatment, and you will receive prescriptions for home.
2. Myelosuppression/Bone Marrow Suppression
a. Your red blood cell (RBC), white blood cell (WBC) and platelet counts will all drop after Epirubicin, reaching their lowest point (nadir) at about 2 weeks.
b. This makes you more prone to anemia, infection, and bleeding.
c. All counts will recover by themselves. No specific diet or activity will hasten this.
d. Blood counts will be checked at least once each week and more frequently if ordered by your physician.
3. Hair loss
a. Hair loss is temporary. It will grow back after chemotherapy is completed.
b. Hair loss will start 2-3 weeks after Epirubicin is given.
c. Hair loss may be partial or complete.
4. Heart toxicity
a. Usually does not occur until high cumulative doses are reached. We will keep track of your cumulative dose and stop it before the high limit is reached.
5. Fatigue
a. Common with most chemotherapy
b. Usually lasts throughout the entire treatment time period
c. Light to moderate activity can help alleviate some fatigue.
Cytoxan (Cyclophosphamide)
Given intravenously or orally (I get it intravenously)
Frequently given in combination with other chemotherapy drugs
Some of the more common side effects include:
1. Nausea/Vomiting
a. May start 2-24 hours after administration
b. Mild nausea may persist while taking oral Cytoxan
c. You will be given anti-nausea medications prior to treatment, and you will receive prescriptions for home.
2. Myelosuppression/Bone Marrow Suppression
a. Your red blood cell (RBC), white blood cell (WBC) and platelet counts will all drop after Cytoxan, reaching their lowest point (nadir) at about 2 weeks.
b. This makes you more prone to anemia, infection, and bleeding.
c. All counts will recover by themselves. No specific diet or activity will hasten this.
d. Blood counts will be checked at least once each week and more frequently if ordered by your physician.
3. Hair Loss
a. Hair loss is temporary. It will grow back after chemotherapy is completed.
b. Hair loss will start 2-3 weeks after Cytoxan is given and is more likely with intravenous administration.
4. Cystitis (bladder inflammation)
a. May cause discomfort when urinating, frequent urination, or blood in the urine
b. To avoid, drink 3-4 quarts of fluid each day (especially water) for 2 days after treatment, and empty your bladder frequently.
5. Decreased Fertility
a. May cause absence of periods, decreased sperm count, or permanent sterility. Continue to use contraception.
6. Fatigue
a. Usually lasts throughout the entire treatment period
b. Moderate exercise, good nutrition and rest can help remedy fatigue.
So now that you know all that, let me tell you about it from a "real" person's perspective. It sucks.
I went to my infusion on Tuesday, and because I was nervous, Susan volunteered to go with me. Plus I knew I wasn't getting Benadryl, so I might get bored as I wouldn't be sleeping the entire time. We watched a movie ("After the Sunset," and not recommended) and ate snacks while nurses came in and out to give me different bags of stuff. The Epirubicin is red... and it makes you pee pinkish orange, kinda cool...
About as soon as we got home, I had a headache and some gnarly nausea. In a few hours, I was debilitated! It was like having a really REALLY bad hangover with out having had the fun of drinking tequila all night! I rested on the couch, but then woke up extra super hot and sweaty and moved to my room.
I had a little breakdown in my room just because I was feeling so crappy. Somehow feeling crappy makes this whole experience that much more real to me. I was having a whiny, self-indulgent, whimpy, babyish pity party, but I couldn't stop. I decided it was better to get all that out, especially while Susan was out so nobody would freak out (heh except me). I put an Ativan (the good stuff... for anxiety, nausea, and sleep) on my tongue and sucked on it to make it work faster. Then I gave myself a "get a grip" talk, and said "Carrie, you can do this. Stop being a baby and get it together. Get up, eat something, and feel better. You're acting like a loser." Or something like that. It helped, and I got up and immediatly ate a little cup of applesauce to get something in my stomach. Then I made myself a bowl of vegetable beef soup. I ate that and I think I pretty much went to bed.
Today I slept in. I made myself some toast (wonderful Mountain Rose homemade wheat bread, I might add) and an egg, ate it, and then went back to bed. I slept until my 2:00 appointment today. Sheesh am I tired! And my mouth has been super dry.
I went in to my onc's office today for hydration and a shot of Neulasta. Neulasta is a drug that is given by way of shot (ewww) that is supposed to make me have more white blood cells. The white blood cells are the guys who fight against infection. And when they're really low, a cancer patient can wind up in the hospital for something as simple as an eye infection. According to my friend, the drug was developed during the blood-tranfusion-and-AIDS panic of the 80's or early 90's (or whatever, I'm not a historian...!) and it is used instead of blood transfusions, which I find creepy. According to my nurse, it also helps me stay on schedule, which is of utmost importance to me because I cannot wait to be done and don't want to delay a single dose.
So now we're updated to today. I was feeling crappy until I left the onc's office today. They gave me some Tagamet to also help settle my stomach. Now I'm feeling better, but tired. I haven't taken a shower for a while because my nurse left the needle in my port yesterday so I woudn't have to get poked again today. And I haven't changed clothes because I felt like crap and it didn't seem to matter. And it didn't matter! So now I need to clean myself up and get ready for bed. I'm not sure I would say I feel good, but better is good for now! And who knows what tomorrow brings... hopefully more better and no worse, but it certainly isn't possible to predict.
I had Susan take pictures at chemo the other day so I could give you a step-by-step presentation of what happens. You can look forward to that later in the week!
Thanks for listening!
Monday, October 27, 2008
Tomorrow... One More Step Towards the Finish Line
Just a quick note to ask for all your prayers and good vibes for tomorrow. I start new drugs and it's a little scary/nerve wracking. But I hope I'll be a superstar and just knock this one out of the park. My sister is coming with me, so that will help with anxiety and boredom!
C'mon FEC, let's rock these tumors!
C'mon FEC, let's rock these tumors!
Yay Good News! :)
Why hello again! I thought I'd write a quick post to share some good news I got today.
I had a meeting with Dr. M. to talk about my mammogram and ultrasound. I guess she and the radiologist discussed the findings. They decided that since my tumors have responded so well to the chemo, and since this "mystery lymph node" (I call it that because it's a little bit too big, and we were worried that there could be cancer there... and that's a bad thing because it leads to cancer spreading ...) has not changed in size, it implies that there might not be cancer in my lymph nodes.
She said "I don't think there's cancer in your lymph node." I wanted to jump up and celebrate! Of course, there's always the chance that she's wrong. But it was good to hear that maybe there's no cancer there, and maybe there never was! Plus, that would put me at Stage 1 and not Stage 2, which has a better prognosis. And maybe with FEC (nah, let's just say IT'S GONNA HAPPEN, none of this "maybe" crap) I can shrink the tumors down to a Stage 0. Wouldn't that be SWEET?
Yay I love good news! I really hope Dr. M. is right!
I had a meeting with Dr. M. to talk about my mammogram and ultrasound. I guess she and the radiologist discussed the findings. They decided that since my tumors have responded so well to the chemo, and since this "mystery lymph node" (I call it that because it's a little bit too big, and we were worried that there could be cancer there... and that's a bad thing because it leads to cancer spreading ...) has not changed in size, it implies that there might not be cancer in my lymph nodes.
She said "I don't think there's cancer in your lymph node." I wanted to jump up and celebrate! Of course, there's always the chance that she's wrong. But it was good to hear that maybe there's no cancer there, and maybe there never was! Plus, that would put me at Stage 1 and not Stage 2, which has a better prognosis. And maybe with FEC (nah, let's just say IT'S GONNA HAPPEN, none of this "maybe" crap) I can shrink the tumors down to a Stage 0. Wouldn't that be SWEET?
Yay I love good news! I really hope Dr. M. is right!
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Home Again and The Week Ahead
Hello all! I'm back, and for those of you who didn't know I was gone, let me fill you in. I went to Winter Park, Colorado, my former home before all this cancer hoopla. I visited some friends, dropped off my bindings to be mounted on my new skis, tried to comfort a buddy going through a rough time, exorcised a ghost (I mean that figuratively), got some free meals, shivered (it's cold there!) and relaxed. I had a really great visit, for the most part, and realized that I have some really great friends. Thank you to everyone for everything! Your support and concern means the world to me.
I got a lot of comments on my last post, probably because it was almost a week ago since I put up a new one. To "Kim," which Kim are you? I'm guessing my cool and lovely boss from the resort, but maybe the cool and lovely woman who cuts my hair? Anyway, thanks for reading and commenting, and also... it's an additional 4 weeks of treatment, making it a total of 12 more weeks of treatment until I'm done. I wish it were 4!
You know what makes me feel really proud right now? I'm an active user on the bulletin board of this website called the Young Survivor Coalition. I've met a lot of really cool young women there, and they all happen to have breast cancer. Anyway, a bunch of them read my blog and like it, and that makes me feel REALLY good! I think it's because the content is nothing new to them, but they still read. Thanks ladies for your support! I remember feeling really isolated because of my age (and attitude) before my friend referred me to YSC.
So here's the schedule for this week, in case you want to think of me and send me extra thoughts and prayers and good vibes. I think I'll be needing them this week...
Monday: Follow up with Dr. M., my onc at 1:00
Tuesday: First FEC infusion of four at 11:00. I'm scared and nervous, but trying not to think about it. If ever you wanted to send me strength and courage, this would be the day!
Wednesday: Get Neulasta shot (it's a shot to make my white blood cells mature faster so my immune system doesn't make me a giant target for infection) and hydration at 2:00. Which would you choose, a shot in your butt or your stomach? Instinct told me butt, but I've heard stomach is better.
So a new round of chemo with new drugs will begin. You know, I don't really know what a "round' or chemo means; is a round one treatment, or is it all the treatments with the same drug? Hmmm.
Let's hope I whoop this one like I whooped Taxol! Maybe I should write Taxol a little break up letter...
Dear Taxol,
I'm done with you; it's over. Finished. I know we spent 12 weeks together; 12 weeks I will never forget. You've helped me in one major way (cancer killin'!), but you've hurt me too. You made me feel bad sometimes and just didn't treat me that well. You aren't very fun and I'll never forgive you for making my hair come out. I hope that when you meet another woman, you will help her the way you've helped me. And that afterwards, she'll dump your ass the same way I did!
I will admit, I've found someone new. His name is FEC. I think he's a stronger guy than you, and I truly believe he'll do an even better job than you. Thanks for all the you've done, but I promise I will never miss you.
Forget you,
Carrie
I got a lot of comments on my last post, probably because it was almost a week ago since I put up a new one. To "Kim," which Kim are you? I'm guessing my cool and lovely boss from the resort, but maybe the cool and lovely woman who cuts my hair? Anyway, thanks for reading and commenting, and also... it's an additional 4 weeks of treatment, making it a total of 12 more weeks of treatment until I'm done. I wish it were 4!
You know what makes me feel really proud right now? I'm an active user on the bulletin board of this website called the Young Survivor Coalition. I've met a lot of really cool young women there, and they all happen to have breast cancer. Anyway, a bunch of them read my blog and like it, and that makes me feel REALLY good! I think it's because the content is nothing new to them, but they still read. Thanks ladies for your support! I remember feeling really isolated because of my age (and attitude) before my friend referred me to YSC.
So here's the schedule for this week, in case you want to think of me and send me extra thoughts and prayers and good vibes. I think I'll be needing them this week...
Monday: Follow up with Dr. M., my onc at 1:00
Tuesday: First FEC infusion of four at 11:00. I'm scared and nervous, but trying not to think about it. If ever you wanted to send me strength and courage, this would be the day!
Wednesday: Get Neulasta shot (it's a shot to make my white blood cells mature faster so my immune system doesn't make me a giant target for infection) and hydration at 2:00. Which would you choose, a shot in your butt or your stomach? Instinct told me butt, but I've heard stomach is better.
So a new round of chemo with new drugs will begin. You know, I don't really know what a "round' or chemo means; is a round one treatment, or is it all the treatments with the same drug? Hmmm.
Let's hope I whoop this one like I whooped Taxol! Maybe I should write Taxol a little break up letter...
Dear Taxol,
I'm done with you; it's over. Finished. I know we spent 12 weeks together; 12 weeks I will never forget. You've helped me in one major way (cancer killin'!), but you've hurt me too. You made me feel bad sometimes and just didn't treat me that well. You aren't very fun and I'll never forgive you for making my hair come out. I hope that when you meet another woman, you will help her the way you've helped me. And that afterwards, she'll dump your ass the same way I did!
I will admit, I've found someone new. His name is FEC. I think he's a stronger guy than you, and I truly believe he'll do an even better job than you. Thanks for all the you've done, but I promise I will never miss you.
Forget you,
Carrie
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Bad News :(
So as you all know, I was really hoping that my next phase of treatment would be AC (adriamycin and cytoxan). AC treatment would have been 4 rounds administered every other week. The other choice was FEC (5-Fluorouracil, Epirubicin, and Cytoxan), which would be administered every three weeks. I guess the treatments are very similar, but because FEC is composed of three drugs, I would need three weeks to recover. I wanted AC only because it would be done sooner!
Anyway, today my onc called to let me know what our course of action would be. I was very disappointed to find out I will be doing FEC. So another 12 weeks of chemo is on the horizon. An extra month of this crap-- great.
I wasn't as upset as I thought I'd be, but I am pretty bummed out.
I still have an appointment with my onc on Monday to discuss stuff, but she told me some things on the phone. I requested that she call me as soon as she knew which meds I would take because I feel like I have no idea what's going to happen to me, and I'd like to make plans.
She told me some stuff though: one tumor shrank from 2.6 cm to .9 cm and the other from 2.3 cm to 1.3 cm. I thought I remembered my onc saying that if both were shrunk to 1 cm or smaller, then we'd do AC. So I wasn't totally surprised. She also said that originally, I had 2 lymph nodes that were looking "suspicious." The ultrasound showed that one was 1.7 cm before and is the same now. :( I don't know how bad that is, but she did say that it doesn't necessarily mean there's cancer there for sure. The other node was 1 cm, and it didn't show up in the ultrasound, but my onc expressed some doubt that the tech went deep enough. She commented that it was a good reduction, but to get the best results, we need to do FEC.
Some good things: the E has less of a chance for heart toxicity than A, so that's good. And the C is supposed to really knock out tumors, so I'm still hoping and expecting to see more shrinkage next time. And this is supposed to give us a better chance at shrinking the tumors and getting me better, so that's good.
I don't know if I told you this, but I learned from my onc that when you're doing neo-adjuvant treatment, it's the stage you are BEFORE surgery and AFTER chemo that counts for your prognosis. So if I can get to Stage 1 or Stage 0 (dare to dream!), then my prognosis would be improved from being Stage 2.
Anyway, I hope this doesn't blow my dreams for skiing out of the water. It certainly will change them, but we'll just have to see how it goes. I hate that I can't make any long-term plans because I don't know what's going to happen as far as surgery and recovery times go, and whether I'll be doing 5 weeks or radiation, or what... FRUSTRATING.
But, to end on a lighter note, I've completed all 12 infusions of Taxol, and that's really something! I thought it would put me at 12/20 weeks, but it turns out I'm a little less than 12/24. So halfway. I know I said this was going to be "on a lighter note," but I have to say looking back on these 12 weeks, it feels like a long time. There was a time when I felt like time was really going by, and I couldn't believe I had done, say, 8 treatments already. Now I feel like time has morphed into molasses in January. In fact, I get my last infusion on this nonsense FEC schedule on Dec. 30, I think. So maybe I will be molasses in January.
Oh well.
Cancer is for the birds.
Anyway, today my onc called to let me know what our course of action would be. I was very disappointed to find out I will be doing FEC. So another 12 weeks of chemo is on the horizon. An extra month of this crap-- great.
I wasn't as upset as I thought I'd be, but I am pretty bummed out.
I still have an appointment with my onc on Monday to discuss stuff, but she told me some things on the phone. I requested that she call me as soon as she knew which meds I would take because I feel like I have no idea what's going to happen to me, and I'd like to make plans.
She told me some stuff though: one tumor shrank from 2.6 cm to .9 cm and the other from 2.3 cm to 1.3 cm. I thought I remembered my onc saying that if both were shrunk to 1 cm or smaller, then we'd do AC. So I wasn't totally surprised. She also said that originally, I had 2 lymph nodes that were looking "suspicious." The ultrasound showed that one was 1.7 cm before and is the same now. :( I don't know how bad that is, but she did say that it doesn't necessarily mean there's cancer there for sure. The other node was 1 cm, and it didn't show up in the ultrasound, but my onc expressed some doubt that the tech went deep enough. She commented that it was a good reduction, but to get the best results, we need to do FEC.
Some good things: the E has less of a chance for heart toxicity than A, so that's good. And the C is supposed to really knock out tumors, so I'm still hoping and expecting to see more shrinkage next time. And this is supposed to give us a better chance at shrinking the tumors and getting me better, so that's good.
I don't know if I told you this, but I learned from my onc that when you're doing neo-adjuvant treatment, it's the stage you are BEFORE surgery and AFTER chemo that counts for your prognosis. So if I can get to Stage 1 or Stage 0 (dare to dream!), then my prognosis would be improved from being Stage 2.
Anyway, I hope this doesn't blow my dreams for skiing out of the water. It certainly will change them, but we'll just have to see how it goes. I hate that I can't make any long-term plans because I don't know what's going to happen as far as surgery and recovery times go, and whether I'll be doing 5 weeks or radiation, or what... FRUSTRATING.
But, to end on a lighter note, I've completed all 12 infusions of Taxol, and that's really something! I thought it would put me at 12/20 weeks, but it turns out I'm a little less than 12/24. So halfway. I know I said this was going to be "on a lighter note," but I have to say looking back on these 12 weeks, it feels like a long time. There was a time when I felt like time was really going by, and I couldn't believe I had done, say, 8 treatments already. Now I feel like time has morphed into molasses in January. In fact, I get my last infusion on this nonsense FEC schedule on Dec. 30, I think. So maybe I will be molasses in January.
Oh well.
Cancer is for the birds.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Imaging Results... Part 1
So I had a marginally frustrating day today. First, I had an appointment with my oncologist, who is at this big health campus on the south side of town. My town isn't huge, but the onc's office is about as far away as you can get. So anyway, I show up at 10:30, and my onc walks in and says, "Did we make a scheduling mistake?" I was a little annoyed because I had called the week before, right before I got on the plane to go to Cali, to make sure the onc wanted to see me before my imaging appointment. And the person I spoke to said yes, she does want to see you before the imaging. So anyway, after I get there, she says I can just go, and I make an appointment for NEXT Monday to discuss the mammogram and ultrasound results, which will determine my next round of treatment.
So I leave and decide to get some breakfast, even though I have to be back at this health campus around 12:30 for my mammo/ultrasound. I head to The Rainbow because I've decided I want to eat their green eggs and ham. The Rainbow is probably about 15-20 minutes away. I get there and order a green tea, and as the waitress goes off to make it, I realize that I have a lunch menu and I've missed breakfast. ARGH! I decide to drink the tea and head elsewhere for food, but the tea is really gross. So I leave $3 and am getting frustrated.
Then I went home, but only got to be there for a few minutes because I had to go to my imaging appointment. And when I got there, there was a lot of waiting time. YARGH.
Enough blah blah blah, I'll get to the good stuff. I didn't get to speak with the radiologist; I guess he tells the tech to tell me stuff. But she told me that he said my tumors had shrunk considerably and that's good. The chemo is working, which we already knew. He also said that there was nothing new on my films, which is really good too, and I hadn't considered that new stuff could be happening. I asked the tech how big the tumors are now, and she said one's about 1.3 cm, and I think she said the other was a little smaller. They were 2.5-ish cm before, so they're about half as big. And according to what I hear, the next drug is one that REALLY smashes cancer.
I was really hoping that the techs wouldn't be able to find any cancer in me, but in the end I don't really know if that was a reasonable, typical, or even possible scenario. I'll know more about that next week. I am glad that they are shrinking though. And I still have a considerable amount of chemo left to do, so hopefully when I'm done there will be hardly anything left.
Speaking of which, tomorrow is my last Taxol infusion! I'm really happy about that, but at the same time a little worried that I'll be missing Taxol once I start the next phase. I think the next drugs are going to be harder. But I'll deal with that when the time comes, no use fretting over it now. It's been so long since I felt "normal" and "good" that I hardly remember what that's like. And that's a good thing because it makes it so I don't really miss it.
So adios Taxol, this is our last week together. Let's make it count!
So I leave and decide to get some breakfast, even though I have to be back at this health campus around 12:30 for my mammo/ultrasound. I head to The Rainbow because I've decided I want to eat their green eggs and ham. The Rainbow is probably about 15-20 minutes away. I get there and order a green tea, and as the waitress goes off to make it, I realize that I have a lunch menu and I've missed breakfast. ARGH! I decide to drink the tea and head elsewhere for food, but the tea is really gross. So I leave $3 and am getting frustrated.
Then I went home, but only got to be there for a few minutes because I had to go to my imaging appointment. And when I got there, there was a lot of waiting time. YARGH.
Enough blah blah blah, I'll get to the good stuff. I didn't get to speak with the radiologist; I guess he tells the tech to tell me stuff. But she told me that he said my tumors had shrunk considerably and that's good. The chemo is working, which we already knew. He also said that there was nothing new on my films, which is really good too, and I hadn't considered that new stuff could be happening. I asked the tech how big the tumors are now, and she said one's about 1.3 cm, and I think she said the other was a little smaller. They were 2.5-ish cm before, so they're about half as big. And according to what I hear, the next drug is one that REALLY smashes cancer.
I was really hoping that the techs wouldn't be able to find any cancer in me, but in the end I don't really know if that was a reasonable, typical, or even possible scenario. I'll know more about that next week. I am glad that they are shrinking though. And I still have a considerable amount of chemo left to do, so hopefully when I'm done there will be hardly anything left.
Speaking of which, tomorrow is my last Taxol infusion! I'm really happy about that, but at the same time a little worried that I'll be missing Taxol once I start the next phase. I think the next drugs are going to be harder. But I'll deal with that when the time comes, no use fretting over it now. It's been so long since I felt "normal" and "good" that I hardly remember what that's like. And that's a good thing because it makes it so I don't really miss it.
So adios Taxol, this is our last week together. Let's make it count!
Sunday, October 19, 2008
The California Post!
So my "California Chemo-cation" was really such a blast, and a wondeful way to both clear my head and approximately mark the halfway point of chemotherapy treatment. I feel absolutely blessed to have such wonderful girlfriends who were kind and generous enough to take care of me when I needed it most! So thank you, a thousand times thank you, to Kelsey, Sonja and Heather!
And now that it's been a week since I returned, I figured I'd better show you all some photos!
Here's a photo of Carmel, as seen from the beach. Kelsey's pad was only a short block away from the ocean. How wonderful!
And here's a photo of the beach! Beautiful!
And a blue sunset over the Pacific Ocean. We left the house every day around 6:00 to make sure we didn't miss it.
Here's an orange sunset.
Sonja and Carrie, smilin' beach bums!
Kelsey and Sonja, Bud Light drinkin' beach bums!
Our feet! In the sand! Best feeling!
On the first night, we returned to the beach to have a bonfire. We didn't have much paper to burn, so thank God Kelsey brought the lighter fluid...
Now our blaze is a-burnin'!
Kelsey and Sonja, makers of fire! Sonja decided to wear my purple wig...
Sonja wrote our names in the sand, and I thought it looked cool. "Not to prove that we were here, but to prove that we are here." -Roger Clyne
Here's me and a crazy line of spazzy fire! Sonja and I wore wigs down to the beach... a mistake because they smelled awful, like bonfire smoke, until I cleaned them yesterday.
I look awful in this picture, but Sonja looks really cute, so I put it up. I was trying to look surprised when they brought me a homemade birthday cake! How sweet, pun intended! We ate this morning and night for three days...
Some penguins at the Monterey Bay Aquarium...
We took a trip down to Big Sur and did a little hike to the beach. Here's the view when we got there!
Kelsey scrambling on a rock...
Sonja smiling on the beach...
. We climbed that rocky thing because... umm we wanted to... It was really steep!
And here's the sign we saw once we got to the top! What can I say, we live dangerously...
Another view from the top...
OK, so the San Francisco part of the trip is grossly under-represented. By the time I got to Heather (and Jackson... and Brody...), I was pretty tired. And tired of taking pictures, too! But here's Heather and Jackson, both irresistably adorable!
And just for fun, a video of the cats and Heather playing with an earplug. Cats are funny!
Well, I hope you've enjoyed my California trip photos! Tomorrow I have my appointment for an ultrasound and mammogram, so please keep me in your thoughts in prayers. Pray that there's nothing there to see anymore!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
