CarrieHatesCancer

This is for Helen!

2009-11-17T10:40:00.005-07:00

Here are a couple of photos of my most recent hair... making progress!

This is me and Beth, another young survivor diagnosed before 30. She's a mother of 2 and a really fun lady! I met her through the Young Survivor Coalition Message Board and we went through treatment at the same time. Her hair is longer I think (and not to mention cuter!) but this is what the growth looks like! We finally got to meet in real life at the Living Beyond Breast Cancer conference in Philadelphia last weekend.

This is me all made up for a breast cancer fundraiser in October. They colored my hair purple, but you can't see it, and now it's back to black (phew!). It was a fun experience but the event was really poorly put together. Anyway, my hair was really cool that day! And you can see my new boyfriend in the background in the mirror! :)

Where are we? And who is this?

2009-11-12T10:12:00.002-07:00

Hey everyone! I have great ambitions to use this blog again for any number of things, but so far that hasn't come to fruition. Let today be the day that CarrieHatesCancer is revived!

So what has happened since we last spoke? Well, I think I said I'd gone to my six-month check-up. As it is, I'm very confused as far as time-telling and cancer go. My surgeon counts time from the first treatment action taken, which was chemo on August 4, 2008. My medical oncologist, who truly should have the final say, counts time from surgery, which wasn't until January 23, 2009. So by my surgeon's count, I've survived for about a year and a quarter, which sounds great! But by my medical oncologist's count, I'm not even at a year yet. :(

Anyway, I have an appointment coming up with my medical oncologist in December. That should count as my 9-month check-up, approximately. And for that appointment, I was due for my first mammogram since treatment. Generally I try not to stress too much about those sorts of things because it doesn't help. But no matter what, I've noticed that within a week or so before the appointment, I do get stressed and anxious. This time I felt really worried, for no particular reason. I just felt like I couldn't do this all again.

But without further fanfare, my mammogram went fine. I got the "all clear" quickly and was sent on my way. PHEW! They did both breasts this time, and in six months they'll do just the right one (the cancer one), and then in a year they'll do both again. Hard to believe that as a 27-year-old woman I have two mammogram appointments a year, but... well... I don't do many things normally anyway.

I still have the appointment sometime in early December, and I'll have to do bloodwork for that. So another chance for mild anxiety. But such is life. Err such is my life. I can't wait until I've been alive for three years post-cancer (if I make it that far...) because then the rates of recurrence drop dramatically.

This weekend I'm headed to Philadelphia to attend a breast cancer conference. Yet again, I've managed to score a scholarship so my flight and hotel are paid for! I'm so excited to see my "cancer friends" again! Through this horrendous experience, I've met some truly wonderful women. But more specifically, I have a good group of young survivors, most of us under 30. There are five of us, with different pathologies, stages, surgeries, everything. Totally different lives and lifestyles. But when we come together, we have a great time. I'm really looking forward to it!

There has been an interesting transformation in me. A year ago, I was miserably making my way through chemo, suffering and struggling. And since the end of treatment in May, things have been looking up, every day better than the ones before. Before, I was hearing from people what life was like after treatment. There's a discussion on my message board for young breast cancer survivors about "the new normal." There are a lot of women who will guarantee you that you will not be the same person you were before cancer. I found that to be terrifying, as I was pretty fond of how I was pre-cancer. And during cancer, there were so many struggles that I wanted to leave behind-- physical pain, fear, damage from radiation, etc.-- and I was scared I'd feel that way forever.

Well, let me tell you folks, it doesn't always end up that way. I feel today much like I felt before cancer. I'm different, that's true. I have a much broader perspective that has come from a unique experience. And now, here I am, maybe a year out, maybe not, trying to help others make their ways through the same experience. Another cancer-stranger-friend told me that she likes to read what I write because it gives her hope that she too will feel normal again. I can't even express how good that makes me feel.

It's a struggle to find your place and your role through cancer and after. It's sort of like being an adolescent again, figuring out who you are. But for now, I'm the same Carrie, just a little more experienced, a little wiser, and a little more helpful.

(I'm sure there are zillions of other things to say, but hey, MONTHS have passed so we gotta start somewhere!)

6 Months

2009-09-04T12:55:00.002-06:00

Hello all! I still exist! And thanks to anyone who still reads...

On Monday, I went to see my medical oncologist for my 6-month check-up. Everything went well; it was actually a very boring appointment. My bloodwork looked great and my tumor markers are very low. (Tumor markers are, I think, proteins that cancer cells produce. If cancer were back, the markers would be elevated. So low is good.)

I just wanted to let you all know that things are looking good so far. I also saw my surgeon a little over a week ago, and things were just fine there too. My arm on my cancer side bothers me, though. The muscles are tight and uncomfortable, and I'm worried about developing lympedema on that side. My hand was slightly swollen starting late this winter, and now I feel my wrist and lower forearm are very mildly swollen.

Anyway, in other news, life is finally very good. I've been working and making money, which admittedly makes me feel really happy. I'm so happy to be back in Winter Park, with the same faces and the beautiful weather. The summer season is finally drawing to a close, at the perfect time because I was starting to feel burned out, and I'm headed to Chicago for the annual summer trip with my college girlfriends.

Finally, life is good. To anyone who may be reading this while struggling through the breast cancer battle, please know that it WILL look up.

:)

Phheewwww!

2009-07-15T15:11:00.002-06:00

Just got the call today; my results are in and I do NOT have hepatitis C! Yay!

Tomorrow is my cancerversary, or the anniversary of the day I was diagnosed. I'll probably gab more about it later, but I'm tired from working a lot, and need to get ready to leave for New York City tomorrow! I'm meeting up with some of the wonderful young breast cancer survivors I've met and we're going to celebrate life. Should be a blast! Photos to come!

Which reminds me... I don't think I ever posted photos from the conference. Hmmm...

Next time!

A World's Full Turn

2009-07-10T15:58:00.002-06:00

Well, here we are. It's July 10, 2009.

A year ago today, everything was starting to change. On July 9, 2008, my PA told me she was 98% sure that the lumps in my right breast were cysts. But on July 10, I went to the Breast Diagnostic Center, and had one of the scarier days of my life. I remember thinking I'd go and get an ultrasound and the whole appointment would take a half hour. But when the doctor wanted to see more and more images, and when she came in to do an ultrasound herself, I knew things weren't going to be OK. She had this tense, scared expression on her face. It was a year ago today that they told me that I'd have to have a biopsy, but that the masses in my breast were highly suspicious for cancer.

How does this happen to a healthy, happy 25 year old? I still wonder about this.

I'd like to think that a year later, everything is different and better. But a recent event has made me wonder.

The hospital where I had my surgeries just fired an employee who is accused to re-using needles on surgical patients in order to steal painkiller. The employee had hepatitis C, and now anyone who had surgery in certain parts of the hospital during certain period of time needs to get tested for hepatitis C. Of course, with my new rotten luck, my surgeries took place in the certain parts of the hospital during the certain time period. I spent yesterday in Fort Collins getting a haircut and a blood draw to be tested for hepatitis C.

Fantastic.

I can't help but feel like a small chance is nothing to worry about. The chances of a person of my age getting breast cancer is very small, but it still happened.

Mostly I feel like I just don't get a break. I was getting back to being pretty normal, but now there's this whole hepatitis scare. I feel like my life was normal last year, and now it's all... wonky. I wish that cancer had never happened to me. I wish I could go back to being like everyone else. I really do.

Anyway, the anniversary of my diagnosis is July 16, and that day I'm leaving on a jet plane to New York City to celebrate with some other young survivor friends. Some of us were diagnosed just a few days apart. I hope it will be fun. I'm pretty sure it will be.

More later. Enough today.

Some Thoughts and An Update (Warning: Long!)

2009-05-21T17:41:00.002-06:00

Hello once again, to anyone out there who may still be reading. And also, thank you for continuing to check up on this site. I know my blog postings are becoming fewer and farther between, but I hope to bring updates still when something is happening. Or when nothing is happening…

Ultimately, though, this is a “cancer blog,” so I hope to keep the content related to my cancer adventure. For that reason, the posts are becoming rare. The things in my life are beginning to be less and less related to cancer, and that is a good thing. A very good thing. I hope that maybe someone may still stumble upon this blog and find it a helpful resource, and I also hope that you have found it a helpful resource.

That term “cancer adventure” takes me back to the beginning of this whole odyssey. I remember thinking last summer, before my diagnosis, that it was time for me to undertake a new adventure. After I graduated, I moved to Winter Park and had been living there for three years. That was the fulfillment of a childhood dream—to become a ski bum and ski as many days as possible. And while my some of my friends and peers were getting jobs and my parents were wishing I would go to graduate school, I was truly quite proud of myself for following through on my dreams (though humble and not particularly a service to the betterment of mankind). I was “living the dream,” as we so often say up here.

But then things started to take a turn for the worse. Well, maybe that’s a dramatic phrasing… perhaps a turn for the more mundane. I was entrenched in a very sloppy and unhealthy breakup that summer (which would lead to more sloppiness and unhealthiness later, with my diagnosis and treatment), and the novelty of my mountain life had just about worn out. Not to say I no longer enjoyed it; the life had just changed from a splendid thing of newness to well, everyday life. But with better weather. :)

At the beginning of every ski season, I would tell myself (and my parents) that this would be my last season, that I would get on with things and go get a life. And by the end of each ski season, I would say, “Well, just one more season, and then I’ll get it together.” Three years passed in this fashion and I guess I now know how castaways on Gilligan’s Island felt after their supposed three-hour tour.

It’s impossible to say how things might have gone because I’ll never know. Things went the way they went, and here I am now. There are those who say they think I may have continued a relationship with my ex-boyfriend had I not been diagnosed. I am ruminating over the idea that I may have moved on to another stage in my life, leaving the mountains behind. Who knows? But I do remember feeling that it was getting to be time for me to move on to my next adventure. I had a restless feeling and my life had gained a certain aspect of predictability. My first big adventure was living and studying abroad in France, my second was working and skiing in the Colorado Rocky Mountains, and my third was yet to be determined.

Unfortunately, my third adventure turned out to be cancer. I was originally thinking something more along the lines of Hawaii, or New York City, or Chicago. In the end, though, I didn’t end up having much of a say.

In the early days of diagnosis, I remember thinking at the time that I wasn’t really that stressed. But thinking about it now, I know that I really was. But in the face of all that stress, I also remember being optimistic in my innocence. What I mean by that is I had no idea what was to come, and so I thought, “Hey, this isn’t so bad.” It was in that naive but plucky spirit that I decided I would call this whole mess an “adventure.” I tend not to use popular words that I feel do not represent me or my attitude; I would never describe an awesome powder day as “sick,” for example. So the typical words “journey” or “experience” are not in my frontline vocabulary. I think this is because “journey” can include a certain level of pleasantness and willingness to go along, which clearly is an unfitting word in my opinion. And “experience” is so vague, though I sometimes use it.

Still, “adventure” is an appropriate word, I think. An adventure is a step into the unknown. On an adventure, one’s physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual strength is tested. I cannot think of a more apt word.

Anyway, the toughest parts of my cancer adventure are over, I hope. The most common question I field now is “So did they get it all?” I think a lot of people don’t understand how cancer and its treatment work. The unfortunate answer to that question is that I have no idea. We did our best to “get it all,” but we won’t know whether it’s all gone until either 1) it comes back, proving that we didn’t get it all, or 2) five years pass and it doesn’t come back. I’m not sure if all cancers work this way, but with breast cancer, if it doesn’t come back in five years, then you’re “cured.” This isn’t always true, but with my particular kind of cancer (triple negative breast cancer, or TNBC), it is very rare for it to recur after five years. And nowadays, doctors and researchers say that while the rate of recurrence is higher in the first three years for TNBC (and hence also more deadly), it’s pretty rare for it to recur after three years. And by five years, we can pretty much assume it’s gone and ain’t never comin’ back. This is the one advantage of TNBC. Breast cancers that are estrogen receptor positive are at risk of recurrence as long as there is estrogen in the body.

The measurement of five years is measured from my first surgery on January 23, 2009. So I’m about halfway to my first year. Tom Petty was onto something… the waiting may just be the hardest part. Actually, who am I kidding? The first part was pretty damn hard.

Anyway, I’m finding it challenging to think about things in the future. A year seems about as far away as possible. I sometimes feel paralyzed when it comes to making plans for the future because I have no idea what my life could be like. I know it sounds negative, but it has become a reality. In one year, I could be healthy and happy. In one year, I could be back in treatment for a local recurrence (the return of cancer, but confined to the breast). In one year, I could be going through treatment for metastatic cancer (the return of cancer in distant areas, such as bone, liver, lung, or brain). In one year, I could be dead. So it’s very hard for me to think what I want to do next. For most people, signing a one-year lease doesn’t seem like a serious commitment. When you’ve had cancer, it is. You have to realize that there’s a chance you’re going to have to break your lease. I was lucky the first time because my landlady/roommate is a good friend and it wasn’t a big deal for me to say, “Hey, I have cancer. I’m moving out at the end of the month to start treatment.”

All of this leads me to the important part of these posts, which is an update of what’s going on in the life of Carrie. This month marks three months since my second surgery. My doctors want to follow me closely, and that involves lots of check-ups. My medical oncologist will see me four times a year for the first year, then three times a year for the two years following, and then twice a year for the last two years. I think the surgeon and radiation oncologist will follow up with me, too, but not as intensely. Anyway, for all of these follow-ups, I had to get some scans and tests done. I had a bone scan to check my bone density, a PET scan to make sure things are looking good as far as the eradication of cancer goes, and blood work.

The bone scan showed that I have some osteopenia, which is a loss of bone density, but not as severe as osteoporosis. And thankfully, my PET scan was clear. The blood work came back looking very good too. All my doctors are pleased with my results and think that everything is looking good so far. Truth be told, though, it’s very early for anything to be wrong. But good news is good news, and I’ll take what I can get when I can get it.

After my appointment with my surgeon in Denver, I moved back to Winter Park. While I’m happy to be back, it wasn’t the easiest decision. I was already starting to get ready to move on with my life. And there was the ex-boyfriend situation. But there were also reasons I wanted to come back. I felt like I was robbed of my last ski season (even though I got 30 days on the snow), and I also didn’t want the reason I left to be an illness. I wanted to leave on my own terms. I knew I wanted to leave Fort Collins to hopefully restore some normalcy in my life, and Winter Park was the path of least resistance because I already had friends, a job (to start in a few weeks), and a place to live. And it’s also extremely beautiful here. The thought of moving to a strange new city seemed, at this point in my messy life, entirely too stressful. So here I am, back where I was.

The sensation of it all is very strange. With the warm weather, the appointments, and the shuffling from Fort Collins to Winter Park, I was flooded with memories of last July. It’s amazing how much a life can change in one year. And it’s so strange to be in the same places doing similar things, but be an entirely different person. Last year I thought that it wasn’t so bad, and that I could do it again if I had to. Now I think that it’s been bad but still know that if I have to, I can do it again. But there were times where I literally thought I couldn’t do it ever again. Ever. Again. God willing, I will never have to. But I am now wiser. Would I go back to exchange this wisdom for my carefree and innocent naivety? Of course. That was an easy one.

So the new challenge is to find how I fit in. On the Young Survivor Coalition Bulletin Board, we talk about the “new normal.” The new normal is what we call everyday normalcy post-cancer; it is not the same normal as before cancer. It’s an idea that I struggle with; currently I’m having trouble accepting that I will never be the same person I was just a year ago. I want to blend into my old life seamlessly. I want to be able to do the things I used to do and feel the way I used to feel. I don’t want to be “Cancer Girl,” and I don’t want the first thing people know about me to be that I had cancer. I want to feel the joy of being in my twenties and unattached (to a boyfriend, husband or children), and I want to feel like I’m going to live forever.

At the same time, I don’t think that it’s healthy to pretend like cancer never happened to me. I want to sometimes, and I justify that if it makes me feel better, then what’s the harm? But then I come back to earth, and I realize that even if it were healthy mentally, it’s still an impossibility. I have too many reminders. I’m not wild about my short hair (though it grows just a little every day). I have a 2-inch scar on my right breast. I have a scar from where my port is. I’m tired, and my knees ache. I’m sad, sometimes, still so sad that this has happened to me. And angry, too. These feelings don’t reign over my thoughts, but they’re there nonetheless, and I refuse to ignore them. And there are all these women I’ve come to know through this experience who have struggled like I’ve struggled. I value their friendship and their support, and I want to give back everything I’ve received. I care about what’s going on in their lives. To turn my back on cancer would probably mean I’d have to turn my back on them, and that’s just not going to happen.

It’s hard to say how this recommencement of life will go. I haven’t started working, so I have no way to measure how recovered I am. I haven’t been tested much because I haven’t been doing much. And while the terrain is the same, I am now a different voyager.

With some trepidation and my standard courage, I step forward. Stay tuned.

Finally!

2009-05-01T20:01:00.001-06:00

I... AM... DONE!!!

More on that later! Gonna go have a fun day!

Medium-well

2009-04-23T17:59:00.003-06:00

Remember me? Yeah, me neither.

Anyway, I know I've been really bad about keeping up with the blog recently. A large part of that is due to being out living my life a lot more. And a large part is me being lazy.

I wish I had documented my feelings better during this time. While physically it's been a bit easier, emotionally it's been difficult. My moods vary greatly from day to day, from hour to hour. Sometimes I feel so over cancer and ready to move on. Others I am stricken with sadness for myself. I still wonder how and why this happened to me.

I thought I should tell everyone to put their party hats away for another week. I know I had announced that April 24 was going to be my official last day of treatment. But... it's not.

You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?

My radiation oncologist has decided to add another 3 boosts (radiation directed at the "tumor bed," or where the tumor used to be, and not radiation to the whole breast, axilla or supraclav) to the end of treatment. And then the *#&%$ machine was broken for two days. So it's looking like the last day will be May 1. But who the hell knows what could happen between now and then.

I first made the goal of finishing treatment before the ski season ended. Failed. Then I made the goal of finishing before Susan's birthday. Failed again. Then I thought, well, if I could just be done by the end of April. Failed three times. I can't believe this.

My skin held up pretty well until Week 5. Now my armpit and an area near my collarbone are raw, red and feel like they're really sunburned. It's painful and uncomfortable. The doctor I saw yesterday thought it would start healing maybe this weekend, which was good. The nurse, though, said it could get worse over the next 2 weeks. I really hope not because it's not so great right now. I'm pretty cooked right now. But I'm calling it medium-well because I still have 6 more treatments.

My energy levels are sort of decent. I've been doing some fun stuff recently. Let me tell you about it, and we can pretend I'm not whining about radiation. :)

Last weekend was closing weekend at Winter Park Resort. I went up on Friday, in a HUGE snowstorm, to stay with some friends and get some final turns in. It snowed about 3 feet in 2 days, and the snow was amazing! It was nice to spend the time with friends and keep it mellow. Then on closing day I went out skiing, watched my friend try to snowboard across the icy Splash pond, and partied a little at the C-lot. And my skis and poles disappeared. :( They weren't my favorite skis, but I did invest a chunk on money on them. I think someone stole them; I'm still hoping it was an accident. Maybe I'll get a call soon from the resort's security office saying they got turned in.

Last night I went down to Denver to eat dinner with my friend Amber, and then we went down to Colorado Springs for a Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers show. The show was great, of course, and... at the end I got to shake Roger's hand! And we waited outside the tour bus, which is something I've never done, and I got to talk to him a little. AND HUG HIM! That was great. Amber said, "Roger! Will you please hug my friend? She's had cancer this year and your music has really helped her out." And he said, "Really? You're way too young for that." He said it in a really nice way. And he also asked if I was done with treatment, or is anyone ever really done, which was a pretty insightful question. It was the moment of a lifetime! I'm still pretty excited about that.

This weekend we're going to Denver to celebrate Susan's birthday. And on Sunday I am meeting up with other Colorado Young Survivors to have brunch at the Cheesecake Factory. Should be a fun weekend.

And then... to finish treatment. Hopefully forever.

Happy 100!

2009-04-05T21:15:00.002-06:00

Hello again!

This is the 100th post on my blog. Seems like we should be celebrating, no? Happy 100 to you all!

Anyway, I guess there's not much to update on... I've finished 15 of my 30 radiation treatments, so I'm halfway done. The last day should be April 24, if all goes according to plan. But nothing goes according to plan it would seem, so I guess I won't hold my breath. So far my skin is holding up really well. It's maybe a tad pink now, but there's not really any tanning or burning or peeling or sores or anything. It's gross though-- they told me I can't shave my arm pit on the radiated side until my skin is healed because now would be a really bad time for a cut. So I have maybe 8 really long arm pit hairs. EWWW!

I got a cold last week, and that was a bummer. But it did give me a chance to get a lot of rest, do some reading, and take a lot of baths. So that part was nice... I'm feeling better now, though not completely well.

I went skiing this weekend on Saturday and Sunday. The snow was great, and it felt wonderful, as always, to get out there and move around. I also skied last weekend. I think by now I must be up to about 25 days on the snow. Which is great, really, because at the start of this all I didn't think I'd get even 5 days in. Just goes to show you that 1) the doctors don't always know what they're talking about, and 2) nothing gets in between me and skiing.

There are only two more weekends of skiing left in the 2008-2008 winter season at Winter Park. That makes me sad. I think that's why I was feeling pretty mopey when I was skiing today. I'm not ready for it to be over. And I still can't believe that my treatment has taken so long; at the beginning I thought I'd be done with a month or so left in the season. Nope. The season will close and I'll have my last 5 radiation treatments.

I'm still hoping to move back to Winter Park in May sometime. I guess I'm a little nervous that it's not the right choice, but I don't know what else to do. And I do know that I want to live my ski bum lifestyle next winter, so I may as well go back for this summer. It's beautiful up there, and it'll be nice to get back to "normal." I'm a little concerned that I'll be "cancer girl," and that that particular part of my reputation will precede my glittering personality. :) I guess in a way I wish I had kept things a little more under wraps. But it's too late now, and if people wanna act stupid about the fact that I have/had (I just don't know how to word that anymore) cancer, then they can go ahead. Just don't expect me to be around them for very long.

I really need to get a picture of my new hair up soon. I think those of you who haven't seen it since I was "baby butt bald" will be really surprised!

Ooooh I totally forgot I said I'd post some pictures from the conference. I need to save some to my computer from my facebook, so it'll take some time. Patience, please.

Tomorrow I have another appointment for personal training at the gym. I really like weight lifting, and I hope it's something I continue to do. Somehow since Dallas I gained a bunch of weight and now I'm working hard to take it off. Plus, I read an article that said that women who stayed within 5 lbs of their high school weight had fewer occurrences of breast cancer than women who have gained 20 lbs or more. I was really pretty thin in high school, and I know I've gained more than 5 lbs since then. I am not making it my goal to get back within 5 lbs because I think that's impossible, and probably unhealthy. But it would be nice to lose another 5-7 lbs.

I know I have more thoughts about various subjects that I would like to share with you, but none are coming to mind. And I have radiation at the ungodly hour of 9:00 a.m. (I know this is late to most of you, but give me a break; it's been a rough 9 months), so I'm going to bed early.

Thanks to anyone out there who still reads this junk! We've made it to 100 posts, not too shabby!

Live From the Trenches

2009-03-25T21:40:00.003-06:00

Hello! Do you even remember me? I had to read my own blog to see where I left off. And it turns out today marks one month since my last post. Incredible! Like I say these days, time flies regardless of whether you're having any fun or not.

So what's happened? A lot actually! I don't know whether I should go in chronological order or in order of importance...

How about random order? That sounds a lot more fun, and a lot more like ME!

We left off at the day before the conference. As you all may remember (or not... I know you have bigger things on your mind than me... although why I have no idea... ha!), I hadn't had my period since August due to what we call "chemo-pause." Chemo-pause is chemotherapy-induced menopause, and it's very normal for a woman undergoing chemotherapy to slip into menopause. You might remember me whining and groaning about having hot flashes all the time, and how it was very difficult for me to sleep. Well, as chemo wore on, the hot flashes diminished quite a bit, and I think (but can't remember exactly) that the last couple months were hot flash-free. That was nice.

The concern was that my doctor said she was sure my period would come back. Well, actually, that wasn't the concern. It was that she said there was an 80-85% chance it would. Those are good odds, yes, but 10-15% is still a good chance it wouldn't. Anyway, I tried not to stress about it because I have no control over it, plus I have no interest in having children anytime soon, if ever. I figured, though, if it were going to come back, it would probably come back at the least convenient time.

Well, the day before I left for Dallas for the conference, guess what happened? Yep, the ol' period came back. At first I thought there was something wrong with me! Ha! But anyway, it was nice to know that my body has regained yet another function, albeit not an enjoyable one.

I am amongst the menstruating once again.

Speaking of the conference, you may be wondering how it went. I think I honestly needed this entire month to process my feelings about the conference.

I left Colorado feeling excited to go, but not thinking it was going to be the time of my life or anything. And I came home to Colorado TOTALLY exhausted, sick of cancer, and ready for a little space to myself. In the end, however, it was a really cool experience.

On Thursday, I flew to Dallas, and it turned out that a fellow breast cancer young survivor friend of mine from Colorado Springs bumped her flight time up to fly with me. I ended up sitting right in front of her. That was fun, plus I had some people to share a shuttle with. I had taken a pill because I hate flying, and then she gave me the rest of her margarita. Ooops. Suffice it to say, I don't remember much of the shuttle ride. The rest of the day was spent sort of wandering around and meeting all sorts of women whom I knew only from our online correspondences. It was wonderful to meet so many people at once, but also pretty overwhelming. And I was walking around in my blue wig, so lots of people recognized me that way, but I wasn't sure who everyone else was all the time. We went out to a fun restaurant for dinner as a group of maybe 30, and that was pretty nice.

The conference didn't officially start until Friday. I registered, got a bag full of interesting goodies, and went to a seminar about the environment and cancer. It was a pretty interesting session. And later that night we went out dancing at a cowboy bar. That was a first for me; I've never seen people dance around in a ring like that. I rode a mechanical bull and met a very interesting young man. All in all, a pretty fun night!

Saturday was an exhausting day. We had 4 seminars to attend, and they started pretty early. I learned, talked, heard, read all about cancer ALL DAY. That was a little much. And at this point, I realized it had been hours and hours since I had any time to myself, by myself. Not that it wasn't great to be around all these fantastic and fun and beautiful and smart women all the time... but as of late I do have a lot of down-time to myself, and I was starting to feel a little burned out. The seminars on Saturday weren't as good, either. The one I had been looking forward to was about Triple Negative Breast Cancer, which is what I have, but the presenter talked very quickly and as if she were talking to another clinicians. I had no idea what she was talking about, plus my mind was already raw from all the rest of the cancer thinking. I was disappointed that the talk wasn't better.

Saturday night was a blast though! We had a dinner and dance at the hotel. Dinner was... questionable... let me say that a grilled chicken breast needs to have sauce, and no, mayonnaise is not an acceptable sauce. Anyway, the dancing was really fun because it was just a bunch of girls in different crazy wigs, bald, or with their own new hair, getting silly and having fun. I had the best time!

Oh yeah, I might mention that I was sharing a hotel room with three other girls. It was like a college spring break all over! They were all so cool and so nice. I wish the four of us had gotten more time to hang out. Oh well, I'm planning on going to New York City and Washington, D.C. to visit some of them in July, should funds allow!

On Sunday, I slept in. I needed it. And then I said goodbyes to all the people I had met. I was very ready to go home, even though I had a great time. I think that because I had had such a long break from chemo, cancer was on my mind a lot less before the conference. And being at the conference brought me back to having cancer on my mind ALL THE TIME. That I found really difficult for me. I didn't like thinking about cancer constantly, and talking about my cancer and other people's cancer and cancer in general incessantly. It was really draining, and with the skiing before, I got home totally exhausted and tired. And truly overwhelmed by it all.

Blogger is really stupid in the way it makes you upload photos. But next blog, which I PROMISE will appear sooner than a month, I'll include some pictures and you'll get an idea to why I came home so tired. ;)

What else? Oh, I've had two great visitors since we last spoke. My brother came to visit from Buffalo, NY, and that was really nice. We got to spend his birthday with him, and he, my sister, and I all went up to Winter Park for a ski trip. The Monday of our ski trip I skied GREAT, hit 11 runs in maybe 3.5 hours, and just totally killed it like I used to. Then on Tuesday, it snowed a bunch, which normally would be a good thing. But I was worn out from the day before, and honestly I'm not that great of a powder skier. And it was flippin' freezing out. I was miserable and falling left and right. I started to get scared I was going to hurt myself, so I just quit. I was so frustrated that I wasn't having any fun. So I took my boots off and went to lunch at my favorite restaurant! Ha!

Also, one of my favorite people came to visit from San Francisco. La Heather! It was so wonderful to see her, and she was here for 5-ish days. I wish I had been more energetic for her visit but I was really starting to feel tired with all the skiing and the extra activity. But it's always great to spend time with Heather, and I think she understood that my energy level wasn't what is once was, and that I like just hanging out doing nothing with her anyway. What a treat!

Also, some time starting towards the beginning of March, I started working out again. I think it's made a difference in how I feel, and I usually feel a little more energetic after a workout. With Dallas, my brother visiting, and Heather visiting, I managed to gain maybe 8-10 pounds, which is gross and I hate it. So now I'm working on getting back to a normal weight. I've also started strength training with a personal trainer (I know, fancy!) and that's going really well. Lifting weights reminds me of skiing a little bit because it's something you can do with a friend if you want, but it's just as good alone. And it's an individual challenge that you can improve upon every time. I really like it so far, and my trainer is really nice. She's supposed to be a little bit initiated with cancer stuff, but mostly I think she's clueless. Anyway, she did a really challenging workout with me yesterday and I'm practically hobbling, limping, and shuffling around. And I'm supposed to do it again tomorrow! Aye me! I feel a little stronger, a little less flabby, and like I have a little more endurance. That is, I feel a little more like myself. And that's a good thing.

And the biggest news, as far as CarrieHatesCancer goes, is that I've finally started radiation. After my brother left and the radiation office still hadn't called, I called them to make sure they didn't forget me. The woman on the phone said she was just lifting up the phone to call me. Whether or not I believe her on that one is up for grabs.

Anyway (boy this is getting loooong) I will have 30 treatments, 5 of which are "boosts." I guess boosts go directly to the surgery spot, and are "just electrons," whatever that means. The woman on the phone described it as "dessert after a big meal." I like the sound of that! As of today, I have had 8 treatments. Something is making me feel tired a lot, and I'm guessing it has to do with radiation. Although I was getting pretty damn tired before I started, so who knows. My body's been through a lot, and it's no small wonder I feel exhausted most of the time. By Week 3 or so, most people start to notice skin reactions (as in burning, peeling, redness, fun stuff). So far, at the end of Week 2, there's nothing to report.

I go to radiation EVERY day Monday through Friday, at 9 a.m., which is super early for me (I know, it's obnoxious, but I like luxury's lap and so I live there). If all goes according to plan, my last treatment will be on April 24. Guess who's counting the days? There is one good thing about radiation, though. The doctor's office has cookies out every day, and almost always there are two different kinds. Yes, even at 9 in the morning I indulge myself. I deserve it.

I've really resented being back into treatment, but now that it's been almost two weeks, I'm getting used to it. It was just a really long break from this crap-- my last infusion was Dec. 30. I really feel like everything took extra long in my situation. Some people get through treatment in much less time than the 9 months it will have taken me. But we're all different, and there's no magic timeline that we all fit on. It was hard to go back to feeling mediocre all the time and having to face the reality of cancer again. But radiation is nothing so far in comparison to chemo. And sometime soon I'll show you all the hair I've grown!

Speaking of my hair, every day I wake up and it's pushed itself into a mini faux-hawk. I look a little like an emo skater punk girl and little like Mr. T. But hey, it's hair, right?

Now that we're all up to speed, I feel better. And tired. So it's off to bed with me, and I'll talk to you soon, I promise. And there will be pictures!

(Sorry this post was sort of a mess. I would go back and fix it, but seriously, I'm tired. So excuse all the run-on sentences and stuff. Thanks!)

A Break From Reality... And Back Again...

2009-02-25T23:22:00.002-07:00

Every time I get the chance to go skiing, I totally relish it. It's such a welcome break from my "cancereality" as we may call it. It feels great to do something physical, and being outside in the snow is truly therapeutic for me.

Anyway, Monday and Tuesday I went up skiing in Winter Park and stayed with some great friends, Mike and Beth. I've worked with both of them in restaurants back when I lived in WP, which feels like eons ago. Mike was actually one of the first people I met. Anyway, they're both amazing cooks, so you can imagine I was spoiled by the food they made me. I thoroughly enjoyed some lasagna and breakfast burritos, plus they got a case of Bud Light for me and took care of my drinks. It was great!

The skiing was really fantastic on Monday. I took some of the best turns I've taken all season, plus I got to ski with my buddy Marty for the first time. Turns out, he likes to ski moguls too, and we had a great, albeit short, time! Then on Tuesday I skied terribly. We'd gotten a bunch of new snow, but it was about 39 degrees out, so it was wet and heavy. I gave up and went to visit some friends and have a Hurricane or two, as it was Mardi Gras and all.

In the midst of it all, I got a call from my oncologist's office. That was scary because it was after 5:00 and I had no idea why they'd be calling me. I was worried that they had rechecked my brain MRI and found something. In the end, though, it was to discuss radiation to my supraclav. My oncologist, unlike my surgeon, was all for it, and had discussed it with another radiation oncologist at the office I go to. My normal rads onc was out of town on a personal emergency, so she had talked with his associate. It turned out though that I'd be meeting with a "substitute doctor." So my medical oncologist agreed to talk to the sub as well.

We went back to M&B's place to change clothes, and then went out to celebrate! I had a great time dancing and seeing friends. Wahoo!

I had to head home on Wednesday morning because I had an appointment with the substitute rads onc, Dr. A. Dr. A. is a retired rads onc who was also a professor at the University of Oklahoma. He had a fantastic bedside manner and truly took the time to help me try to make a decision. The difficult thing about the decision of whether or not to radiate my supraclav is this: the risks are small but severe, and the benefits are not guaranteed. The risk is that the radiation could damage a nerve bundle in my shoulder causing my entire right arm to go permanently numb. There's also an increased risk of lymphedema. And there will be increased damage to my lung, but they tell me that it won't be noticeable or make a change in my lifestyle. The risk of losing feeling in my arm is very small; it's been approximated from anywhere between .5-5%. According to Dr. A., he had never seen it happen to any of his patients in his 38 years of experience. And as with anything, there is no guarantee of any benefit.

Having the control and freedom to decide on this makes me feel like I DO have control over my treatment. But as I am not a doctor, it is very difficult to try to make a medical decision for myself. I'm leaning towards doing it though. The rads oncs seem torn, but because I am so young, it seems like a good idea. I want to give myself every chance I can, and I don't want to regret NOT doing something that might help. There's also the idea that if cancer were to grow in my supraclavicular lymph nodes, a tumor could damage that nerve bundle, also causing my arm to go numb. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

"Where are we going? And what am I doing in this handbasket?"

The reason there is such a debate over whether or not to radiate my supraclav is that they usually do it if there are three or more lymph nodes "involved," meaning containing cancer. For less than three, they do not radiate this region. But, in my case, because I'm always special about things, the tumor in my node had broken through the lymph node capsule, which is... sorta scary. And like I said, I am a youngster, so we want to give me the best chance possible.

In the end, Dr. A. and I agreed that I should take some extra time to think about it, and in the meantime, have myself mapped out as if I'm going to do it. Then if I decide against it, it won't change anything. Which leads me to the next thing...

I got mapped for radiation finally. To do this, they stick you on an uncomfortable table and slide you in and out of a CT machine. This is purely for mapping and not diagnostic, so I didn't have to drink anything gross or be injected by anything. Then afterwards, I got my very first tattoos.

Now, before anyone gets too excited, these tattoos are TINY and are used to match my body up with the machines. A laser light will need to be matched to these black dots every session to make sure my body is in the perfect position. You don't want radiation going just anywhere! I was against them at first, but in the end, they truly are tiny and they didn't really hurt. The gal who did them told me she was famous for making them REALLY tiny. It was true; the two on my sides turned out so tiny that she had to redo them.

I was scared thinking she'd have a big tattoo gun, but in the end they just put a dot of ink on my skin and then stuck a needle in. No biggie.

I guess now they're working on my treatment plan and will call me to tell me when I can start. I think though, I'll end up telling them when I want to start because Big Brother #2 is coming to town to ski with me, and I don't want to worry about radiation until we're done skiing.

Yeah, I have a one-track mind. Skiing is my passion, what can I say?

I leave tomorrow for Dallas for the Young Women Affected by Breast Cancer conference. I get to meet all these women who have comprised my online support group. I'm really looking forward to it! Because of my age, a normal support group had very little appeal to me. I lost myself to this network of women closer to my age, and we all support each other. It's been incredible to have a life-line of people who know what I'm going through, and how hard it is do it at this age. Hopefully I'll learn a lot and have a fantastic time! I'm headed to Denver tonight to stay with Amber so I don't have to wake up so early tomorrow!

What a Week!

2009-02-21T15:08:00.003-07:00

Hello again! I'm sorry that I keep slacking off with the upkeep of my blog. I think because I'm feeling better, I blog less. I think back to my days of chemotherapy treatment and remember how this blog served as a lifeline for my mental health. I hope it means I'm mentally stronger now because I feel the need to blog less. And admittedly, the further along and the closer to the finish line I get, the more I dislike talking about cancer. I used to obsessively check the message boards at the Young Survivor Coalition, blog about my cancer adventure, and talk about cancer all the time. I finally feel like my thoughts about cancer are no longer constant.

Anyway, I'll fill you in on what felt like a long, crummy week of doctor's appointments.

On Monday, I had two appointments. The first was with my medical oncologist, Dr. M. This was the first time I'd seen her since surgery, so we were going to talk about my pathology results and prognosis. She seemed disappointed that the pathology report found a lymph node positive for cancer. That means that while her original staging was based on a guess, the chemotherapy did not downstage me. She used a computer program called Adjuvant Online to assess my prognosis for cure. The program isn't really the most accurate picture of my prognosis because I did chemo before surgery, but apparently it's the best and only tool we have. So according to the program, I have a 70% chance of making it another 5 years, disease-free.

As you can imagine, I was kind of down after hearing that. It was the number I had in my head approximately, but hearing it officially was a tad depressing. Yes, 70% is better than anything below 69%. But it still isn't as good as 80%, or 100%. Feeling that three times out of ten I'm dead meat was scary and disheartening. But I have to remember that I am not just a statistic and be happy for the 70%.

It really made me realize how little we still know about cancer. When I was asking questions about this 70% and wondering what was going to happen, my oncologist literally crossed both her fingers and said "we hope." Moving forward from a superstitious finger-crossing and a 70% chance of being alive at 31 makes a girl feel a little uncertain.

I also mentioned an issue I'd had a few weeks before with my peripheral vision. I went out and partied a little in Denver with some friends from high school, and the next day I realized there was a chunk of my vision missing in the periphery. It was freaky! But it came back after I ate and rehydrated. The doctor wanted to be on the safe side and ordered an MRI of my brain. She said it was very, very, very unlikely that anything was wrong, but given the whole cancer thing, we're playing it safe. The brain MRI was scheduled for Wednesday. Scary stuff, but I tried not to worry.

Anyway, I didn't have much time to be glum about it because there was more cancer business to attend to. I had my first consultation with my radiation oncologist on Monday too. This doctor, also a Dr. S., was very nice and very informative. I'd heard so many women complain about their radiation (we call it "rads" for short) oncologist, so I was worried mine would be a brusque jerk too. Instead he was a very friendly, informative and flexible doctor. For the first time in treatment, I felt like I really had control over my treatment and had lots of choices.

We discussed some different options for radiation, but we came to the conclusion that standard external beam radiation would be the best option for me. We talked about the side effects, which primarily are fatigue (what's new?) and skin irritations. We're also talking about radiating my supraclavicular region because apparently the cancerous lymph node had cancer that broke through the capsule. I scheduled a mapping CT for this coming Wednesday, and rads will probably start sometime in the first weeks of March. I hope to be totally finished with active treatment by then end of April.

I had my brain MRI on Wednesday, and by Thursday I got the results. The woman on the phone said, "Your brain looks completely normal." No one has ever said that to me about my brain! That was a nice relief.

Also on Thursday I met with a physical therapist to become educated on lymphedema, or LE. I learned that developing LE is a lifelong risk. I also learned that I shouldn't allow it to run my life. For those of you who don't know what lymphedema is, it's a condition caused by the lymph fluid getting trapped in parts of the body, in my case my right arm, and not being moved out because I have had 9 lymph nodes removed. Any injury, or nothing at all, could cause LE to happen. Essentially, I need to reduce my risk factors, be vigilant in my watch for any swelling, and should something occur, be prompt at treating it.

On Friday, I went to Denver for my follow-up appointment with my surgeon. It was a very brief appointment, and I finally got the bandages taken off my re-excision wound. The wound looked great, and Dr. S. was really please with the progress. I asked her about radiating my supraclavicular region, and she said I shouldn't do it. Dr. S. always has a brighter view on my future, so it's nice to see her after I see Dr. M.

So that was my week. It's such a drag to have to go to all these appointments, especially after having such a long break from them. But... this is my life, and as the Serenity Prayer commands, I must learn to accept the things I cannot change.

Side note: I started writing this a long time ago, and now it's about a week and a half later. But to keep my posts approximately in the time frame of actual life, I'm going to post it as February 21 and write another update.

Sorry I've Been Slacking! And No More Surgery!

2009-02-15T22:54:00.003-07:00

Hey everyone! I really have to apologize for slacking on my blog. I keep meaning to update everyone, but it got put off. Sorry sorry sorry!

So first off, let me tell you all that my second surgery was a success. I had a re-excision on Monday, and on Wednesday (I think?) I got the good news that the margins were clean and clear. The medical assistant said, "You won't have to have any more surgeries, unless you need your appendix out!" Let's hope she's right!

Tuesday was a little painful because I didn't want to take any more percocet. I just really hate the way painkillers make me feel! How people get addicted to them I'll never know. Anyway, the pain has been very minimal, and I've resumed my physical therapy exercises. Things are feeling really good right now, so that's great.

For whatever reason, my breast looks a lot better this time around. You'd think it would be flatter from taking out more tissue, but it looks... bigger! I hope that lasts!

I really need to get Susan to take my picture again because my hair is pretty noticeable now. It's not long, and it's not thick... but it's THERE!

Tomorrow is sort of a big day. I'm definitely not looking forward to it. I have an appointment in the morning with Dr. M., my oncologist. We'll probably go over the meaning of my pathology report. I'm thinking she's going to give me an official prognosis, meaning the statistics regarding my likelihood of 5 year survival. Icky. And in the afternoon, I meet with my radiation oncologist for the first time. I wonder what that will be like. I'll be glad to have it out of the way and to know more about what's going to be happening. So think good thoughts for me tomorrow because I'm sick of going to the doctor now. Which I think is pretty fair, since I've been doing it for 7 months. Tomorrow marks 7 months since diagnosis.

Today is actually a special day. You see, 26 years ago today, a little baby arrived in Denver, all the way from Seoul, South Korea. And when she landed, she met her new family and she started a new life in the United States. That lucky little baby was me. Today is what has come to be called "Carrie Day," a day celebrating the anniversary of my adoption. So Happy Carrie Day to you all! Hope you treated yourselves nicely!

Now that we have the updates out of the way, we can move on to the reflection part of the blog. I've been thinking a lot about the transition from "cancer girl" to Carrie. It's so crazy that things happened to fast and so unexpectedly. In 8 months, my life changed A LOT.

On the YSC message boards, we talk about the "new normal" a lot. We talk about how we'll never go back to being the women we were before cancer, but that we find a new normal, a balance that takes into account everything we've been through. I will never have breasts without scars, and I will probably never again feel like I'll live forever. I'll never be young and invincible. And my surgeon mentioned that she thought I might have to do stretches every day for the rest of my life because the radiation might mess up my muscles in my arm. All of this is will certainly contribute to my new normal, which doesn't sound very normal at all.

But slowly, ever so slowly, the evidence of this difficult time is disappearing. When I think about it, I get this visual of a Jolly Roger drawn in the sand by the sea. And with each wave that laps against the sand, the picture washes away just a little bit more. My hair is coming back slowly, and the darkness in my nails is fading. Eventually the fact that I did a tango with cancer will not be visible, and the people I meet will have no idea what I've been through. I will look normal. But we've yet to find out if I'll feel normal.

I've noticed, though, that I find myself thinking, worrying and obsessing about cancer a lot less these days. I didn't think it would be this fast. I feel so ready to move on with my life. Actually, I should clarify that statement. I have no idea what I want to do with my life. But I am absolutely ready to move away from this part of my life. When I'm through with treatment, which, mind you, will still be another two months probably, I want to move back to Winter Park. I feel like my time there was cut short. I feel like I need to go back so that when I decide to leave, it's on my terms. And of course, I want to ski another season because cancer stole this one from me.

What scares me is the creeping thought that I'll get back to the life I had pre-cancer and not be happy. I do feel very different and very changed. And if skiing doesn't make me happy like it used to, then... who am I? I feel like I don't know myself very well anymore because I've changed.

I feel conflicted in how to proceed. When doctors tell me negative things, and I read negative things on the YSC message boards, I just want to be the exception. I want to believe that these various bad things will not happen to me. I want to prove everyone wrong. At the same time, I hate to set myself up for disappointment. I don't want to believe I can go back to being normal and then have to deal with all the stupid effects of cancer and its treatment. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't want to live in denial of the after-effects of treatment, and I don't want to have unrealistic expectations. But I DO want to try my best to go back to being a normal 26 year old.

Part of that is getting my body back in shape. I have gotten really flabby and tired, and now I'm ready to tone up my muscles, gain some strength back, and get in shape so that when I finally hit the snow, I'm ready to rip! The only problem is that I have to keep healing from surgery and am not allowed to do any "strenuous physical activity" for another week. But this has become a major goal for me. And I finally signed up for the free 6-month gym membership I got because of cancer. And paid for three 1-hour sessions of physical training. So as soon as I get the go-ahead, I'm going to go ahead!

I'm tired! I'm going to bed. I hope I said everything I wanted to. I have no idea.

Oh wait, two more things!

1) Thanks so much to Nancy! I got your wonderful card! It was a great surprise on a pretty boring day. And thanks for dinner in Dallas! I'll make sure to eat something REALLY good!

2) I'm going to Dallas in only 11 days! I'm going to meet all these wonderful women who have been a special support group in these hard times. I'm excited!

Here Comes Another Song About Mexico...

2009-02-10T16:19:00.032-07:00

So Christmas was a REALLY long time ago, I know, but I finally loaded up all my pictures from my family's trip to Mexico. We all had a great time, and it was nice to look back on the fun times we had.

I took my camera with me only a few times, so the pictures I have aren't exactly representative of everything we did. Maybe if I get some pictures from other family members, I'll post them.

But without further ado, here are some photos from Playa del Carmen, Mexico!

Here's Mom getting searched by airport security. When she

wears her sunglasses inside, she looks like a movie star!

Here's Mom, Dad, Susan and me eating breakfast

at the airport before we depart. Yum!

The next photos are from a dinner at Yaxche, a Mayan restaurant. There's a beautiful patio in the back where you can eat outside. But it's very dark. You can see Mom and Dad using flashlights to read their menus.

David, Cristi and Michael are deciding what's for dinner.

Actually, David is smiling for the camera!

Here's Dad being a goofball, his typical self.

And me, drinking a delicious mixture of juices. Just juices, I swear!

Mom and Susan, smiling pretty!

And here's all of us, except Dad, who's taking the picture,
and Cristi, who got covered by Michael.

Here's a spotlight on my sister-in-law, since she got

covered by my brother in the last shot.

Here's me being silly. I was trying to imitate this really bizarre

statue across from our favorite restaurant.

And here's Susan being silly, kissing a statue near our house.

Susan and Carrie enjoying strawberry margaritas at Babe's.

This restaurant specializes in Thai food AND Swedish Meatballs.

Go figure.

And Dad and Michael enjoying their mango margs...

Mom enjoying a fine bottled water, and Dad with his margarita!

With our last remaining pesos, Susan and I bought these cool

handmade wool turtles. They're cool!

Here's out kitchen, with the housekeeper Marcela washing dishes.

The living room...

The room Susan and I shared...

Susan took this photo from inside, looking out our magnificent deck!

She also took this one. Hello Caribbean!

The patio, with Cristi, Dad, Mom and Susan...

The palapa covering the entrance to our house! (De nada, Palapa!)

A side view of the house...

Another view, to show you how close we were to the sea!

The front of the house...

This photo shows my sister-in-law Cristi, as well as the house we stayed

in the last time we were in Playa del Carmen.

The palm trees between our house and the beach.

Well, I hope everyone enjoyed a quick trip to Mexico. Remember the sun; it will be back again!

'Twas the Other Night Before Surgery

2009-02-08T23:46:00.003-07:00

Guess who? YES! It's Carrie! And she hates Hates HATES cancer!

Here we are again, the night before surgery. Last surgery I was all jittery and nervous. I was scared of the anesthetic and scared for the pain. I was scared for the outcome, too. But tonight, I look at my upcoming surgery as an annoyance. I wish I didn't have to have it, but I know I do. So... I'm gonna suck it up and blast through it. I just hope there won't be any ridiculous complications like last time. Five wire localizations, three attempts at an IV... not fun.

I have only 12 more minutes of water drinking and eating. Then I have to fast. I hate fasting for these stupid things.

I've been trying to be better about doing my dumb physical therapy exercises. I'm supposed to do them five times a day. And given that I don't really have anything else to do, this should be easy. But they're REALLY boring. Happily, though, they don't really hurt anymore. I feel a lot less of a stretch now. For a bit, my progress wasn't improving and I was getting pretty grouchy about that. But we seem to be heading in the direction of normalcy once again. I really hope that this next surgery won't interfere with the rehabilitation of my right arm. Because this bitch has some skiing to do! (Whenever Madame La Surgeon says it's OK, of course.) I hope to make it out again in March, but we'll see what the doc says.

I finally took my bandages off a couple of days ago. Things are looking pretty good. I was really scared to look at my breast at first, in the days immediately following surgery. But now things have settled, and though I will probably never be symmetrical again, it's not too awful. From straight on, you wouldn't really notice the unevenness (unless you were looking for it). The scar will certainly give away the fact that I have had surgery. But so what? I have had surgery. My profile leaves something to be desired, but it's not that awful either. It's not like they were perfect before, anyway.

I find I still haven't regained the energy I once had. I know it hasn't been that long since I finished chemo, and recovery is a long road. But I'm becoming more and more impatient with how slowly everything moves. I want to be strong and I want to be able to run around, but I still feel so week. I've been too sedentary in the past few weeks, I think, but then again, who can blame me? Anyway, I went for walks two days in a row, and on the third day my legs and feet were aching like crazy. I'm starting to feel that "26 year old trapped in a 90 year old's body" thing. And I don't like it. I signed up for a free 6-month membership at the gym, so I hope to be getting stronger and healthier soon. Wouldn't it be amazing to come out of treatment with a better body than I had before? Dare to dream Carrie.

In other news, I finally booked my flights for the Annual Conference for Young Women Affected by Breast Cancer in Dallas, Texas. I was going to go to Austin afterwards, but truly, funds are limited. And I'm saving up to go to Circus Mexicus! Anyway, I'm really looking forward to going to this conference and meeting so many of the women who have been my online support group. Plus, it's about time I got out of town again. I also have a Roger Clyne solo show to look forward to in about two weeks.

So tomorrow is another day in this whole cancer process. Let's all hope together that we get it all this time. It helps to know that I'm not going to be alone in my suffering... my darling online friends Catherine and Jen will be doing their own treatment things tomorrow too. It's terrible to think there are more 20-somethings out there with breast cancer, but there are. I am not alone. And their support and emails have been really wonderful in the past months.

Let's try to check another thing off the list tomorrow. Surgery, check. Next stop, healing. And after that radiation. And then...?

And then, get a life.

Late Night Update

2009-02-02T03:00:00.008-07:00

So it's 3:00 a.m. and I'm finally ready to go to bed. What am I doing up so late?

I am trying to do some writing therapy. When I have problems, it usually helps me to write them down. Otherwise thoughts just ping around in my head, bouncing around and making me feel nuts.

My problem tonight is that there are two people who really let me down through all of this. And sometimes I'm really angry about it. I am especially angry at one person specifically. And I don't like to be angry. I want to just let it go. But it's very difficult. I think I find it hard because neither of these people seem to think they've done anything wrong, and it's hard to forgive someone who hasn't really apologized.

(Just so we're clear, it's not anyone in my family. I'm pretty sure these two people know who they are, and I honestly doubt they read this blog anymore. They don't care.)

Anyway, I just spent the last long time writing two separate posts, which will probably never be published, addressing what these people did and why it hurt me. I hope this will help me feel better about things. Otherwise I may need a counselor. Or a bat. Just kidding.

On a lighter note, I wanted everyone to know that I'm feeling much better these days. I have come to terms with the additional surgery. Things happen and if you can't change them, don't fight them. Save your energy for the fights you can change. This is my outlook, or at least the outlook I strive to live by. It's kind of like the Serenity Prayer:

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can;and wisdom to know the difference. " --Reinhold Niebuhr

Anyway, I'm moving forward with life. Or I'm trying to.

Yesterday I went down to Boulder to meet up with a group of other young survivors. We ranged from 26 to 40-something. We had some dinner together and talked. It was really nice to meet some other people who have been in shoes quite similar to my own. Everyone was cool. I wore my blue wig so they'd recognize me from my online signature pictures. It ended up being a great time, and we closed down the restaurant! Hopefully we meet again.

Here's a picture one of the girls took (I hope this is OK)...

I'm the blue haired one.

I also have the Young Women Affected by Breast Cancer conference coming up at the end of the month. It's in Dallas. I may go visit Austin afterwards, or I might just come back home and get ready for radiation. Having something like this to look forward to really helps me push through the weeks upon weeks of treatment. I think the conference will be a blast, and it will be so fun to finally put some personalities and faces to the screen names I've gotten so much support from.

OK, I'm exhausted. I'm going to do my physical therapy exercises once more (only got to 4 times today... rats) and hit the hay. I just wanted everyone to know that things are looking up.

I'll get to that finish line someday.

Quick Update from Gloomsville, My Temporary Residence

2009-01-28T15:14:00.002-07:00

I got my drain out today. It hurt a little, but hey, pain comes with the territory and it wasn't a big deal. The medical assistant who pulled it told me that some people deal with those things for 3 weeks! Mine was out in about 5 days. It sucked to have to drive all the way to Denver for a 10 minute appointment, but I'm happy to have the thing out. I didn't hate it as much as some people did, but it was unpleasant.

Also, I rescheduled my surgery for February 9. I just didn't want to wait any longer than necessary, and the appointments that were already scheduled for that day are meaningless since I'll be having another surgery. Plus, maybe this way I can eat some birthday cake (or Toasted Almond Pie) with my dear friend Amber on her birthday.

As far as radiation goes, I rescheduled my consultation appointment to Feb. 23 because apparently I have to have time to heal. After that, I schedule a simulation appointment, and then my daily radiation appointments will start. Apparently it will take up to two weeks after my consultation to do the simulation. Fantastic. I wonder if we could make this process take any longer. As it's so enjoyable and all.

As you can see, I'm still in a pretty lousy mood. I'm going to lie low for the next bit until I deem myself worthy of human companionship. I'm seriously no fun right now.

I Spoke Too Soon (Not an Inspirational One)

2009-01-27T22:53:00.003-07:00

So I recounted my dramatic pre-surgery in my last post. And I told you that I was doing pretty well. The pain isn't terrible, and I'm getting further and further along the road to recovery with my physical therapy exercises.

So that's the good.

And here's the bad.

I called today to find out what's going on with my pathology report. I got two parts bad news. Part one was that there was a small section that was positive for cancer in my sentinel lymph node. I was really hoping and praying that there would be no cancer in my nodes. I don't know the significance of this yet; hopefully I'll know more soon. Part two was that the surgeon didn't get all the cancer out, so I have to have a re-excision.

What does re-excision mean? It means that I have to have another surgery.

When a lumpectomy is performed, the surgeon needs to remove the tumor along with a margin of healthy tissue surrounding it, keeping all the cancer contained. When the lump is removed, it's sent to pathology, and the pathologist examines the outside very carefully to make sure that all the tissue surrounding the lump is cancer free. If they find something on the outside, however, the surgeon has to go back and take more tissue, still trying to get "clear margins."

I knew this was a possibility, but for some reason didn't really think it would happen. And then when I knew I could find out my pathology results today, I was really hesitant. I could sense that I'd get bad news. I was right.

Don't get me wrong; this next surgery should be relatively easy in comparison to what I've just gone through. She won't be messing with my nodes, which is the only part that really hurts now. And she only needs to take 1/4". And I won't be under general anesthesia; it'll just be a local anesthetic (yay... again... needles in my breast...) and some loopy medicine. I'm sure I'll heal up quickly.

The part that gets me is that it's ANOTHER bump along this already too bumpy road. I feel like at every crossroads I run into complications. And each thing seems to add weeks onto the total time it's taking to get well again. I'm worried that because I have to have another surgery (which, by the way, isn't scheduled until Feb. 12), I'll have to wait to start radiation. I know that radiated skin doesn't heal as quickly as normal skin, and I'm guessing that after this next surgery I'll have to take even more time to heal and THEN start radiation, adding maybe 3-4 weeks to my finish date.

What's 3-4 weeks when you've been in hell for almost 30 weeks?

I guess I shouldn't get ahead of myself because I haven't talked to anyone about whether this will stall the radiation process or not. I just have a bad feeling about it. Mostly because nothing seems to go right for me anymore.

The news that I have to have another surgery sent me into a half day of depression. It's not a huge deal, really; it's a pretty simple surgery and re-excisions happen. But it's on top of all of this, all of this cancer bullshit. I realized today, because it has become abundantly clear to me, that I am tired. I haven't felt good (as in good for a normal person) in over 6 months. That is a long fucking time to not feel good (sorry for swearing Mom and Dad). If I didn't feel nauseated, I felt tired. To distract from the fatigue is pain. I get sick or an infection in my toe. I no longer have the capability to lie down when I feel yucky and wake up feeling fine. I wake up and I am still tired. I still have cancer. I am still recovering from treatment. I am still weak. I am still living a life that I do not like, let alone recognize.

I AM TIRED OF LIVING THE LIFE OF A 25-YEAR OLD BREAST CANCER PATIENT.

If it's another 3-4 weeks until I start radiation, plus 5-6 weeks of radiation, that could be as long as 10 more weeks. Two and a half months.

I want to move on. I want to move. I want to work. I want to ski. I want to be me again.

I also realized today that my life is dictated by other people right now. I do whatever the doctors tell me to do. Take this chemo. Have surgery. Have more surgery. Do radiation. Be here at this time on this day. Wait until the doctor is ready for you. Take these drugs. And none of it is fun. I am trying to keep myself alive and so I do what they say, and there is no guarantee that it will work. I feel like the more I do and the more I find out, the worse I feel and the worse my prognosis gets.

I don't want to live in statistics, but according to http://www.breastcancer.org/, patients with triple negative cancers (yours truly) have a survival rate of 77% over 5 years versus 93% of patients with other breast cancers. That means, for those of you who aren't great with the numbers, that one out of four will be dead in 5 years. Those are not great odds. Of course, that statistic includes all stages and grades of cancer, so it may not be so helpful, but still. Not good on a little Carrie's mindset.

I can't help but wonder still why this happened to me. How this happened.

I cried today. A lot for me. I am feeling very tested. And very tired of cancer. I know I can do this; I know I'll make it through the surgery. I know I'll get my range of motion back. I know it will stop hurting. I know someday I won't be tired and I'll feel great again. I know I will ski. But today was a hard day.

Oh yeah, and I totally acted like a jerk and yelled at my mom, which probably didn't help her at all. I just couldn't talk about it anymore. I didn't want to talk about cancer anymore, or surgery, or anything related to how much my life sucks these days. I didn't want to be on the phone. I didn't want to be in my own skin. I usually don't feel like I have a crappy life, but taking a candid look back at the last 6 months, it's been pretty damn bleak. I know, though, that it could be worse. But today wasn't a "count your blessings" day.

What I wanted to do today was call my ex-boyfriend and just SCREAM at him (no, not Marc, he got me pretty flowers... actually I have lots of pretty flowers right now). Hmmmm, that's healthy.

Even though it isn't representative of my feelings tonight, I'll leave you with some good news.

Tomorrow I'm going to Denver to get my drain removed. Yay! I think it's going to hurt, but whatever, what's new. And tonight I finally took a shower, and when I was washing my hair, I could really feel some of it coming back in. Not to say it's all growing yet, but at least there's something starting.

So there you have it. I'm going to do my physical therapy exercises once more, brush my teeth, take an Ativan, and hope the sun shines a little brighter tomorrow. The truth, whether I can see it or not tonight, is that it usually does.

Another Step on This Long Road Completed

2009-01-24T15:21:00.003-07:00

Welcome back to CarrieHatesCancer, where something is always happening!

So yesterday was surgery day, and it went... pretty well. But lemme tell ya, we got off to a bad start.

The first part involved my pre-surgery prep stuff at the breast center at Rose Medical. I had a REALLY nice nurse, so that was great. She told me parents and sister, who all came to my big surgery day, that I'd be back in about twenty minutes. And she said that the doctor who would be performing my wire localization was a good one. What's a wire localization? Well, let me explain...

In my pesky right breast, I had a metal clip (sort of like a small metal bead) placed into each tumor at the time of my biopsy. These clips mark where my tumors are/were. So that the surgeon can find the tumors to perform a lumpectomy, the radiologist inserts thin wires through the skin down to the tumor. The wire sticks out of the skin and made me look like a porcupine!

The wires are inserted into the breast with a hollow needle with the wire inside of it. But the radiologist first injects lidocaine, a numbing medicine, into the breast. This stings A LOT, plus has the charming sensation of a needle being pushed deep into the breast. Yeah. I know.

Because my last ultrasound gave good images of my tumors, the radiologist decided to use ultrasound to guide him to my tumors. Since my last ultrasound, though, I'd had one last chemo treatment. I did tell him about that, and that the most recent MRI showed that one tumor was no longer visible and that the other had shrunken significantly. Anyway, he used ultrasound to find my clips and tumors, and inserted two localizing wires into my right breast.

I'd like to take a moment and say yes, it is as unpleasant as it sounds. But if it were performed only once, or twice, it would certainly be very bearable.

So once the wires were in, a radioactive substance was inject into me. This was to help the surgeon find my lymph nodes in surgery. Then the nurse ordered a mammogram to make sure we got the wires in the right place. Going into the mammogram, we already knew that Wire #1 was something like 1.3 cm past the tumor. He tried to pull it out a bit, but the wires have little hooks at the end to keep them in place. And since I'm a youngster, my breast tissue is still quite dense. So imagine trying to pull a fish hook attached to a wire through a sirloin steak. And Dr. Radiologist said he *thought* he got Wire #2 in the right place, but it was hard to tell, and something about it not being an exact science. (Oh really? Isn't that what this should be? I know I'm coming off like he was a moronic ass, but he was actually a very nice man.)

So off I go to get a mammogram. They said it would be a light smoosh (very technical term, sorry I forgot what they really said) and it was.

When the results came back, it turned out that he'd missed my tumor entirely. There was some discussion that what the radiologist had termed "12:00 and 1:00" was more like 11:00 and 12:00 to him. (To the uninitiated, they indicate where tumors are in the breast as if the breast were a clock. Weird, yes.) Anyway, he takes another stab (ha) at it using ultrasound again, and then I have more mammograms. I've had probably 20 more mammograms than all my peers. The mammograms come back, and show that he missed the other tumor again.

At this point, I get to wait in a little alcove where my parents and sister have been waiting. The original time quote of twenty minutes has been WAY overshot. The doctor came to talk to all of us to get everyone up to speed with what's been going on. He was very apologetic, which was nice, but it would have been nicer if we could have just gotten the damn wires in place on the first try. Anyway, he spins it as a good thing, sort of, because it means the tumors are very difficult to find now. Which is, truthfully, a good thing. And he tells us that we're going to try another approach using the stereotactic table. He admits that we should have just done this from the beginning, but my ultrasound films made it appear that he'd be able to find the tumors using ultrasound.

The stereotactic table is a long bed-like table with a hole in the middle. I get myself situated on the table, with my right breast hanging through the hole. The table then rises up so that the doctor will be below me, kind of like when you drive over the hole at the oil change place and the guy is underneath, changing your oil. A technician starts taking some pictures trying to locate both clips. She can't find both, and then gets me to put my arm through the hole as well. She still can't get both. Then she messes with my breast and squashes it to the point that tears are coming to my eyes and I'm yelping "OW OW OW!" (Keep in mind, there are WIRES in my breast, and squishing it around does not feel dandy.) She has finally found both and gets the doctor.

I'm about ready to snap at this point because I'm in quite a bit of pain and nobody seems to care. I'm thinking to myself that it's Friday, and I have to have surgery to remove breast cancer from my body. That I'm 26, and that my friends are at work. That people my age are out there thinking, "Thank God it's Friday" and making plans for a fun night out. And here I am with my breast bleeding and smashed in some stupid machine, with three wires poking out from the skin, awaiting further torture. And that once that's done, I'll be ready for a potentially disfiguring surgery. Usually the "it's so unfair" thing doesn't bother me, but at times like this, times when the cosmos seem to be rubbing it my face how much my life sucks, I have trouble holding it together. I'm really stressed out at this point because of the pain and the frustration and the fact that the nice nurse told me it would take twenty minutes and it's been hours. I want to have a total freak out meltdown, but I don't like to do that in front of people and there's always someone around. And then they're back, the doctor and the technician.

I can't see the doctor, which adds a different edge to everything. I can't see when he again injects lidocaine into my breast, which hurts more and more each time. He puts in the wire. Then he injects more lidocaine in my breast, and I ask why, because I thought he had gotten Wire #1 in the right place. He said he wanted the wires to be perfect, so he was going to do that one again. Another wire is placed. So now I have had 5 injections of lidocaine and 5 wires placed. He then wants to pull out the wires that were misplaced. Two of them come out with very little pain. Then he tries to pull the third and it hurts a lot. He says he'll quit trying and leave it. He attaches a little note to it to have it removed during surgery, and indicates that this wire does not lead to any tumors. Seriously, I had a little note attached to a wire IN MY BREAST. It looked a little like I had raised the flag at Casa Bonita meaning I wanted more sopaipillas.

I think I had to have another mammogram to prove that he got the wires in the right place. This time they were indeed FINALLY in the right places. YAY!

When I come out, I had gotten some little bag full of samples and a nice robe. I think it's because I was a pretty good sport, considering the morning I'd had. It pissed me off that there was a sample of shampoo because I'm bald, but then my parents reminded me that it was a sign of optimism, that it was for my future hair.

My surgery time was 1:15 and I think it was about 1:00 when I was wheelchaired out of the breast center. What was supposed to take about twenty minutes took over three hours. The nice nurse was the one to wheel me to my surgery so we didn't have to wait for a transport. She told me that I did a great job, that this was the most difficult wire localization she'd ever seen, and that she admired my attitude in a difficult time. That was nice. Then she left, and I was with new nurses.

I changed into a different gown and put on an extra pair of socks with no-slip grips on them. A nurse came in and took my vitals, and she brought a selection of hats her mother had made. I picked a funny pink one. She tried to get an IV in me, which meant more stinging lidocaine. Two tries, and then she gave up, giving another nurse a chance. The other nurse didn't use the numbing stuff, which meant it hurt more, but she did hit my vein, which meant we didn't have to keep trying. At this point I was really over having people stab me with needles.

The anesthesiologist came in and talked to me and made me drink this sour grape antacid stuff.

Then my surgeon came in to talk to me. I had one burning question for her: the day before my surgery, a surgeon friend (and also a young breast cancer survivor) told me that if my surgeon made her incision around my nipple, I'd probably lose sensation. As a huge reason I wanted to keep my breasts was that I wanted to keep sensation in my breasts, this concerned me. I brought it up to my surgeon, and she was pretty surprised. I asked how likely it was that I'd lose sensation, and she said there was maybe a 15% chance. I asked if she made the incision higher, would I lose sensation? She said no, I wouldn't, but that most girls my age prefer not to have a scar on their breasts over losing sensation. She told me to think about it for a while, which I tried to do, but of course there are people everywhere and I'm all jittery about having surgery. She comes back to ask me what I've decided, and about five pairs of eyes are staring at me. I'm hemming and hawing, and she says, from my experience, it seems that 15% is too high of a risk to you, and I don't want to be talking you into having the incision around your nipple and then you lose feeling. I decide she's right, and she will make the incision on my breast. I had decided the night before that I'd rather have a scar and feel my nipple than no scar and no sensation. I think I made the right choice, and the scar shouldn't be visible in a swimsuit or in clothes.

I get moved into the OR and switch beds. As I'm lying there, I say, "I know I should have asked this earlier, but how many times do people die from an operation like this?" The nurse told that she couldn't remember it happening once in her 9 years at the hospital. The anesthesia goes in... and I go out...

The lumps were going to be removed as one sheet, not separately. And a blue dye was injected into me to help the surgeon locate my lymph nodes. I peed bright blue when I went to the bathroom as we were leaving the hospital. Think Windex colored!

When I wake up, I'm very sleepy and grouchy. I think I was dreaming about someone I'm mad at, and that made me grouchy. I got to talk to the surgeon about my lymph nodes, and I think she said that she ended up taking out 10, and that one is suspicious for having cancer in it. She said something like, "This is a very sophisticated conversation to be having as you're coming out of surgery, Carrie. I'm thinking you must be pretty smart." I took that as a very big compliment, as I find my surgeon to be a very smart woman. Anyway, I can call on Tuesday to find out the pathology on my nodes.

I slept most of the ride home. Once I got home, my parents got the reclining chair set up right next to the bathroom in my old room. I set my phone alarm to go off every four hours to take a percocet, and my mom ended up sleeping in the same room because she was worried or something.

Today was a pretty slow day, but I haven't been napping all day or anything. I slept in, ate, got a visit from my brother and sister-in-law, watched some Gilmore Girls with my sister and mom, and now I'm ready to eat dinner.

This was a long post; thanks to everyone who made it to the end! Surgery wasn't as bad as I feared, and I'm not really in much pain at all (yay for percocet!). I have this surgical drain thing that's gross, but I think I'll talk about that in a later post.

Ciao!

'Twas the Night Before Surgery...

2009-01-22T22:12:00.003-07:00

Hello everyone! Tonight is the night before surgery, and I'm a little jittery. I wanted to update my blog before surgery, though, in case it's a while before I get back here. I just realized that I never got my Mexico photos up. Sheesh. But I have been a little busy...

Let's see. I went skiing on Sunday, Tuesday and Wednesday after hearing that I might not be able to ski for a while. Even though I could maybe ski groomers after three weeks, I think I'll just wait until I can ski whatever I want. It's just too tempting; I know if I went up with the intentions of skiing groomers, I would somehow make my way over to the moguls. So wait I will. And allow some healing to come to this poor little body of mine.

I had sushi for dinner tonight for the first time in MONTHS! It was great! The spicy stuff still hurts my tongue, but it was well worth it. Mmmmmm yum!

Last night I had this ridiculous dream. First off, I forgot to go to the pre-op part of tomorrow and just showed up for the surgery. Instead of not eating after midnight, I had eaten a granola bar and a cheeseburger. And I had forgotten my films in my car in Fort Collins, to which only I had the keys. What a mess.

I am getting REALLY tired of feeling under par. I realized that since my last treatment, I haven't had a single day where I felt really good. I've had a cold wandering in the wings for the past week or so, and now I feel downright sick. It's not awful, and I did call the surgeon's office to see if it's OK. They said they'd reassess tomorrow, but that the surgery is still on. Thank God! Even though I'm very nervous and scared for tomorrow, I don't want to postpone. But with surgery, I'm sure I won't be feeling top notch for a while, and then not too long after I'll be starting radiation. I just have no clue as to when I get to feel GOOD, or even GREAT, again. It's a bummer (to say the least) to feel icky all the time. Tired. Sick. 75% of normal. Downright yucky.

"I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired" would be a good motto for me.

I spent the day today trying to feel decent and getting things ready for surgery and recovery. I shopped for food, picked up my prescriptions (I've been to the pharmacy more times in the past 6 months than in my entire life, I think) and packed my things for tomorrow. It's going to be a really long day-- we'll leave Fort Collins at 7:30 for my pre-op stuff at 9:30. And surgery is scheduled for 1:15 or something. That should last an hour to an hour and a half from what I've heard, and then an hour or two for recovery. Then we trek back home, and hopefully get there by 6:00. Oy!

I was so happy to finally have a surgery date and to know for sure what my surgery was going to be. And while yes, that is nice, I am now feeling anxious and scared. I don't know why; I charged into chemo like I owned the place. I think it's because I haven't experienced much pain in my life (and for that I am blessed), and that worries me. And I really would like to be active again now that my body is on the mend, but I have to wait to be healed. And I am not looking forward to having a surgical drain hanging out of my body, and having to measure whatever fluid comes out of the wound. (Ew.) And I just heard from a friend (who happens to be a surgeon) that if the surgeon makes her incision around my nipple, I will lose feeling in it. That better not be true. And after this surgery, I may be disfigured to an unknown extent. And most of all-- tomorrow I will know if there's cancer in my lymph nodes. While I have embraced any and all knowledge and information regarding me and this dumb cancer, I face the answer to the lymph node question with trepidation. I am very VERY afraid to have cancer in my nodes.

Mostly, I am tired of the cancer stuff. I see myself as having finished "the hard part." But there's still about 8 more weeks of stuff, and then after that I suppose I'm supposed to piece my messy life back together. I want to go back to how my life was and be happy with it, but I worry that since I am not the same person I was just 6 months ago, will I still enjoy it? Cancer provides more questions than answers. I guess what I really want is to feel "normal" again; not tired, not anxious, not in pain, not weak.

What I need to do is somehow force myself to realize that tomorrow is another major step in the right direction. A step towards healing. A step that physically forces cancer out my body. A step towards the future and leaving this miserable excuse for a twenty-something's life in the past.

Regardless of my feelings, however, tomorrow I WILL have surgery (unless for some reason they think I'm too sick or something). And I'm sure in about a week I will look back and say to myself, "well, that really wasn't so bad." Luckily for me, I have the type of memory that is able to forget a lot of the bad stuff. Plus, I do have a sneaking suspicion that I'm just being a big baby about it all.

OK surgery. Ready or not, here I come. Wish me luck!

I Have a Surgery Date!

2009-01-15T16:18:00.002-07:00

Hi everyone, just a quick note to tell you I finally have a surgery date. I will be having a lumpectomy with a sentinal node biopsy, along with the removal of some extra axillary lymph nodes. And all this will take place on Friday, January 23, just one week from tomorrow! Hooray! FINALLY!

Also to note, my surgeon was very please with my chemo response and said we have a "nice, nice, nice shot at cure." So that's good to hear.

I guess radiation will start 2-3 weeks after surgery, and will last about 5 weeks. So in my head, I'm thinking that in 9 weeks, I'll finally be done with treatment!

I think I'm ready for the next stage in my treatment. I'm a little scared about the pain and how it's going to look in the end. But mostly I'm happy to be moving forward.

The part that really sucks though is that she said I should wait at least three weeks to ski. And when I get to skiing, to "take it easy." (What is it with everyone telling me that? The whole point of skiing is to challenge myself, not to take it easy! I love moguls! Who do these people think I am? Ha!) Groomers? I think I'd rather just sit this one out than ski Mary Jane Trail all day. I KNOW I need to take things at the appropriate pace, or else my arm is going to swell due to the lack of lymph nodes. Eventually I can get back on the horse, but for now, I guess I just heal heal heal. I'm a little disappointed because I thought I could go to this big mogul skiing thing at the beginning of February. But I guess not. Oh well.

Anyway, next stop, surgery! Let's hope I recover quickly and without incident!

A Little This, A Little That... But Most of All, GOOD NEWS!

2009-01-13T13:28:00.009-07:00

Hey everyone! I have so much stuff up in this noisy head of mine that I need to do a brain dump. So here's a mish-mash of a lot of stuff! I just added ALL my Mexico photos, and then Blogger didn't save them, and then my Internet Explorer page closed for whatever reason, and now they're gone. And it takes forever and is annoying, so I'm just going to have to do it again later.

This is sort of a big week. I had a breast MRI yesterday, which was mostly uneventful because they don't tell you anything at your appointment. The first nurse who was supposed to put in my IV for the contrast (they put liquid contrast stuff in you so they can see things better) started things off by scaring me. She stretched the tourniquet and broke it. That didn't bode well. Then she tried to hit my vein with the IV needle and couldn't get it. She tried again on my wrist and didn't get it. Then she called another nurse over and she got it. I have pretty good veins, so I hate it when I have newbies who miss them. Oh well, it wasn't that bad, just unpleasant. Perfect for a Monday.

Anyway, the big deal appointment is tomorrow. I get to meet with my surgeon, finally! I haven't seen her for almost 6 months, since I've been doing chemo first. It feels so great to finally be moving toward surgery in a REAL way. HOORAY! It'll be nice to finally know what surgery I'm really going to have, what kind of recovery I can expect, where I will have scars, how many and how long they will be, what kind of anesthesia, and most of all, a final pathology report telling us whether there's any cancer in my lymph nodes. Please, everyone, please please please pray that there is no cancer there! I'm really hoping I can schedule surgery as soon as next week, but... who knows...

I didn't say in my last post that I went to the zoo on Saturday. It was a free day, and it was nice to stroll around (in the cold...) and look at animals.

OK, so I wrote that stuff yesterday, but today I got some REALLY good news! I called my oncologist's office to see if anyone would talk to me about my MRI results. My oncologist herself called back and had good news. She said my results were "marvelous," which was a good start! My tumors used to be about 2.5 cm each, but now one is 0.47 cm and the other is not visible on the MRI! She also said it doesn't look like there is any cancer in my lymph node, which was a relief. Although we will only know for sure after my surgery.

To celebrate, I took myself out to dinner for Vietnamese food. A certain "Shaniqua Johnston" said I should pamper myself, so I did. Delicious! Also, a dinner alone is kind of nice from time to time.

Well, pictures will be posted again later. I'm still annoyed about that. But oh well, today is a good day! And hopefully tomorrow I will meet with my surgeon, go skiing, and then tell you all about it!

My Crazy Day, or The Worst Day Ever

2009-01-11T12:47:00.000-07:00

Saturday, Jan. 3, was a really hard and bad day. It was awful. A lot of things went into making it one of the worst days of my life, let alone the worst day of treatment, and I am so thankful that day is gone and since then, many new suns have risen.

How do I start this? I don't even know how to start.

I'm usually not a person with so many... feelings. On my "Crazy Day," as we'll call it, my feelings went all wonky-- I had so many emotions at once, almost all of which were negative, and most of them were pretty unfamiliar. For the most part, I am happy and strive to be positive. So when I get to feeling down, it's very difficult for me because it's unfamiliar terrain.

The day started out fine. I went to breakfast with my brother and parents. Big Brother #2 was leaving for New York (well, Detroit, but that's all details...) and my parents were taking him to the airport. My sister was out of town on a ski trip with her boyfriend and friend. So my usual buddy wasn't around. I went home, took a long and satisfying bath, and then... got really... bored. Not "Gee-what-should-I-do-now?" bored, but "What-is-the-point-to-anything-I-feel-like-I'm-wasting-my-life-waiting-to-go-to-bed-and-it's-3:00-in-the-afternoon" bored. Which legitimately scared me.

I thought "The Ghost" had vanished already, but looking back on the day, I really wasn't feeling back to normal. I think I probably still am not, but am hoping it's coming any day now.

My friend Amber called me, which was perfect because I was about to go insane. Unfortunately, this didn't prevent insanity from ensuing, but it was nice to hear her voice, to know she keeps me in her thoughts. She's been so great at keeping in touch and checking on me and taking care of me in her own little Amber way.

I felt so lost, so bored, and so weak. It's a bad feeling, knowing that you WANT to do something, but that your body is too weak to muster the strength to do it. The weakness is very hard for me to deal with. Not that I was a body builder before, but I did have the energy to do the things I wanted to do. On my Crazy Day, I had very little strength for anything except wallowing.

It started with the boredom, which led to me thinking to myself, "Why don't I have anyone to hang out with today?" Which led me, again, to my thoughts about friendship, and to a lot of neglected feelings. When you're going through chemotherapy treatment (and by you, I mean me... heh...), you really have to focus on making it through treatment, one day at a time. And with my neo-adjuvant chemotherapy (that means chemo before surgery, for those of you who aren't down with the fancy terms), I have no idea when anything else is going to happen. So focusing all my energy on finishing chemo was certainly the task at hand. And focus I did. But then once chemo was over, the emotional blinders keeping me focused were suddenly removed and I could suddenly see and feel a lot of things that I had kept bottled up.

I was suddenly VERY angry at a lot of people, some who deserve it and probably some who don't. But I realized that I felt that a lot of people whom I really thought CARED about me weren't THERE for me over this past five month period-- one abandoned me, one screwed me, and one really hurt me over and over. I think I'll talk about this part in a later post.

I guess I don't know what to do with this anger. While I don't feel it all the time, I am still pretty angry that these three people let me down. But on my Crazy Day, I was angry and had no one to direct my anger at.

Amber suggested I go for a walk. This was a really good suggestion because a little walk might have helped clear my head. So I get all ready to walk, but it's almost 4:30 and I'm worried it's going to get dark. I call my ex-boyfriend #1 (sometimes referred to as "the good one") to see if he'll go for a walk with me. It turns out he was in Steamboat, which is where my sister was too, and said he would take me if he could.

Right. Because you've been there for me so much in the past five months. Moving on.

So I go outside to try to get a quick walk in before it gets dark. When I get outside, it's REALLY cold and it's starting to snow. A bad sign, I figure. So I go back inside, feeling very... defeated. And I'm starting to feel really desperate. I felt desperate to feel differently, and just couldn't change how I felt. I felt very alone, very upset, very angry, very sad, and very helpless. Very scared. Very anxious.

I got in the car to go to Whole Foods to get this lip gloss I've used before. I thought it would help with the dry mouth issues, plus it would waste a little time and maybe help my mood. I called my mom to make sure I could maybe come over if things didn't look up, but I didn't indicate to her that I was freaking out and my world was falling apart. She was sleeping but of course said to come on over if I wanted to.

At Whole Foods, things didn't improve. I got the things I needed, and then a pizza and salad because it was clear that I needed to go to my mom and dad's house. While I was in the store, I felt so weak and anxious, like the last leaf on a tree, trembling in the wind, potentially about to snap off and drift away. Standing in line I thought I was going to lose it. I got taken over by feelings of panic and fear, so strong I felt paralyzed. I was so scared that even though I did all the chemo they told me to, it wasn't enough. I felt so afraid I was going to die from cancer, and soon. I felt so helpless.

That's the thing now-- I've done all the chemo that has been shown to be effective and beneficial. And if that wasn't enough, then... what? I know I'm not done with treatment and still have surgery and radiation to go, but chemo is over. And there's no way of knowing whether or not it was "enough." The only way you know is you wait. And if cancer hasn't come back, you keep waiting. Or cancer does come back and then you know the answer.

Anyway, I went to my parents' house. I sat down in the living room with my mom and just started crying. I told her about how angry I was with the people who broke my little heart. I told her how I was scared to be done with chemo. I told her how bored I was, and how I felt all panicky at the store. How I was worried this terrible feeling and this terrible day wouldn't go away, that I was scared I'd need to be medicated for a mental disorder or something. I cried and cried and told her how I wanted to go back in time, how I wished so badly that this had never happened. How sad I was that I would never be same person I was before cancer. She just held me in her arms, and she listened. At some point my dad came in the room to see what was going on. I told him I was losing my mind, and my mom caught him up to speed.

I was freaking out. Bad.

But the wonderful part of all this was that I KNEW they'd be able to somehow fix it. They were able to make me feel better about everything. They gave me reasonable reasons that people weren't there for me, but they didn't discredit my feelings. They didn't lie to me and tell me that everything is OK and that I will be able to go back to being the same old me. They told me I would be a different person than I was, but that my new normal would be good. Or even better. They listened and they talked and they soothed and they calmed. For the past many years, I've felt love for my parents but not need. On my Crazy Day, I needed them, and they were there. And somehow they were able to shrink my head so my problems weren't so huge. I felt a lot better at this point.

Then we made the pizza I brought over (it had spinach in hopes that the iron would help my feelings of weakness) and ate it while watching a light and funny movie. I was pretty much cured of crazy. I went home and went to sleep, and the next day, everything seemed brighter.

So most of my days, I feel pretty normal. I think about cancer less and less it seems. Maybe that's because I've been trying to keep myself busy since then. If you've been wondering where I've been, I went skiing for four days and then down to Denver to spend some time with friends. I had a great time all around! Skiing was really difficult and a little frustrating because what should be a snap is actually very tiring and difficult. But I got back most of my form and technique, and now I'm just waiting on some red blood cell development and getting back in shape. In Denver, I went to dinner and a Nuggets game with some good guys and then some partying in LoDo. Sunday was a lazy day to recover, even though I was supposed to go skiing. Whoops.

One last thing-- Michelle Gray, you commented on my blog but I don't have any way to write you back! I'd love to get in touch with you somehow...!

Guess What?!?!?

2008-12-31T16:46:00.002-07:00

I DID IT!

The Day That Would Never Come... Is HERE!

2008-12-29T21:50:00.003-07:00

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!

Finishing Chemo with a Tan

2008-12-28T18:59:00.003-07:00

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!)

Not Clear

2008-12-18T21:35:00.001-07:00

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.

On Meeting New People

2008-12-18T12:07:00.003-07:00

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!

I Need a Free Pass

2008-12-15T15:15:00.003-07:00

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...

Super Bald!

2008-12-10T20:24:00.010-07:00

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

2008-12-10T19:51:00.000-07:00

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!

Pre-Chemo Update!

2008-12-08T22:39:00.006-07:00

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!

A Thankful Thanksgiving

2008-11-26T15:07:00.010-07:00

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.

(Well, except for a clean bill of health, but we'll get to that!)

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I am thankful for you!

Happy Preamble

2008-11-23T13:38:00.002-07:00

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.

The Ghost and The Shadow

2008-11-23T12:32:00.006-07:00

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.

The Bottom of the Barrel

2008-11-19T20:56:00.002-07:00

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. ;)

Weekend Update!

2008-11-09T22:45:00.003-07:00

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!

Why?

2008-11-07T23:08:00.002-07:00

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.

Thursdays

2008-11-06T23:38:00.003-07:00

This is the first Thursday in 14 weeks that I have felt GOOD. Hooray for good days!

Today is the Day!

2008-11-05T20:48:00.005-07:00

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...

YARGH!

2008-11-04T12:31:00.001-07:00

My hair is falling out again! This is so annoying! And messy!

What Happens At Chemo Doesn't Stay At Chemo

2008-11-02T18:43:00.030-07:00

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...

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

2008-11-02T18:28:00.002-07:00

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!

Halloween... Wah.

2008-10-31T22:15:00.005-06:00

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.

Short Update

2008-10-30T23:27:00.002-06:00

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...!

First FEC... "Freakin' Evil Compound"

2008-10-29T19:42:00.003-06:00

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 mild
2. 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!

Tomorrow... One More Step Towards the Finish Line

2008-10-27T20:38:00.003-06:00

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!

Yay Good News! :)

2008-10-27T15:22:00.003-06:00

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!

Home Again and The Week Ahead

2008-10-26T23:10:00.006-06:00

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

Bad News :(

2008-10-21T19:53:00.002-06:00

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.

Imaging Results... Part 1

2008-10-20T22:00:00.002-06:00

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!

The California Post!

2008-10-19T20:17:00.030-06:00

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!

ARGH!

2008-10-17T19:42:00.005-06:00

So I'm really annoyed right now because I just went out to get some dinner and couldn't taste a damn thing. I went to Noodles and got Pad Thai, which I usually really enjoy. Now that I'm back, I feel like I haven't even eaten because I pretty much couldn't taste it at all. It's like I'm losing some of the really great parts of my life, like skiing, my health, my independence, and then losing some of the small pleasures, like tasting my dinner. I even covered it with hot sauce. Nothing.

Plus I ran into two people I haven't seen in a really long time. I got to share the cancer adventure story with one of them, the other was talking with some other people so I was saved. I mean, what are you supposed to say to "What are you up to?" or "What's new?" etc.?

I am grouchy. Like really-super-almost-scary grouchy.

Because It's Chemo 11, and Because I Love You

2008-10-15T22:20:00.006-06:00

Hello all, just thought I'd check in after Chemo 11. Boy, are the chemo-folk on Wednesdays old! All grannies and grampas today. I'll be glad to get back to the 40-60 year old range on Tuesday again...! I wish I had the energy to post my California pix etc, but not tonight. Sorry! OK... just one... and then bed...! Here's Carrie, Kelsey, and Sonja on the beach in Carmel, California!

So Chemo 11 went smoothly. The blood machine (yeah, I don't know what it's really called) was broken, so I went in early to have my blood checked out. Maybe because I had an extra day of recovery (well, probably because of this) or maybe because California and the ocean will heal all wounds (I prefer to think it's this), but my important white blood cell count was up to 2800, from 1500 last week. So that was good!

I talked with my onc nurse about nutrition today. It's a topic that's been weighing heavily on my mind. I don't ever want to have to deal with cancer again, and if my diet can play a role in that, then I'm all for it. However, I don't feel like my diet has been so crappy that it caused my cancer in the first place, and if I were to go crazy-raw-food-vegan-never-eats-anything-fun and then had a recurrence (ahhhh God forbid!), I would be super pissed. So I need to find a healthy balance. What Nurse A. said was to really try to follow the food pyramid, and keep lean proteins (so that means sausage gravy, right?) and whole grains and fruits and veggies of various colors in focus. I can do that. And she let me know that it doesn't mean you have to eat like a saint. Even those raw food nutsos get cancer! And as far as I know, we only live once on earth, so we may as well have some fun...

Speaking of which, even though I just got back, I wish I was going on another trip again! I had so much fun! You know what sounds great? Vegas! Although I have no idea how that would be sans alcohol. Hmmmm.

I slept long and hard today. I slept really hard through chemo, which is becoming more and more common. I actually get my best sleep there, when I've got all that Benadryl doing its thing. And then I came home and slept another three hours! I think I'm a little drained from my trip and birthday partying. Good thing there's Ativan! I think I'll have two tonight.

And I'm going to try a different antibiotic on my neck bumps now. I used to take these pills for my skin a while ago and got off of them because they're hell on my stomach. But I'd really prefer to try to have normal-looking skin, so we'll see if it works. It better!

So just one more Taxol and then I start the next phase, which will probably be AC. I hope! I'm glad to have a short week before my last Taxol. Please pray that my tumors are tiny or gone! I have some imaging on Monday, which I'm really excited for. And a little nervous. This is the first time we'll be seeing how the tumors have responded to chemo, and the radiologist will be measuring them on the ultrasound and mammogram. I wonder how many 25 year olds get to have three mammos in three months. I hope there's nothing to measure! Anyway, any thoughts, prayers, positive vibrations and good energies sent my way will be appreciated, as always!

And thanks to everyone who called, emailed, commented, and/or sent me a present for my birthday! It's so wonderful to have the support of such caring people, and I appreciate every single one of you. There's nothing like cancer to show you who your friends are.

Safe and Sound After Chemo-cation

2008-10-13T22:06:00.003-06:00

Hi all! I wanted to let you know that I made it home, safe and sound, from my California Chemo-cation. I had a blast, and my side effects weren't too much of a problem. Almost a full week of watching the sun set over the ocean, bonfires, birthday cake for breakfast, Shanghai Dumpling King, aquariums, black cats and many other wonders. I'll recap and add photos sometime later... tired tonight!

It's the eve of the anniversary of my birth... get your presents ready...! Kidding...! But tomorrow, I will be 26. 25 started off with a bang; 26 isn't looking so great for the take-off... but when you start crappy, there's nowhere to go but up Up UP!

And a special hello to those charming girls at the Private Lessons Desk... thanks for reading!

If Cancer Were a University, I'd Go to FU-Cancer

2008-10-07T15:28:00.004-06:00

Can you believe it? Chemo 10 is done! Now all I need to do is pack for California-- bikini, flip flops (flap flaps!), book, sunglasses, done? Nah, just kidding, it's Norcal, sillies!

So I'm leaving on a jet plane tomorrow and will be kickin' retiree-style in Carmel, and then off to San Francisco on Saturday, October 11, sometime. Then back to the Centennial State (yeah that's Colorado... we became a state in 1876!) on Monday, October 13. And then on Tuesday...

Tuesday, October 14...

Hmmmm what happens?

OH YEAH IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! PARTY TIME! GIFTS, CARDS, MONEY-- ALL ACCEPTED WITH GRATITUDE! Ha, I was just kidding about that last part, but some positive birthday vibes would be wonderful...

Nothing like an old lady disease to make you feel like a spring chicken! 26 years young!

I made a secret (well... not so secret...) vow to myself on my birthday last year that I would not have an ordinary life. I should have been more specific...

Oh, and for those who have been listening carefully... Chemo 11, which normally would be on my birthday, has been postponed to Wednesday, October 15. First birthday without a hangover in... years!

So forget cancer, I'm gonna have a sweet week! You guys do the same!

I'm A Broken Bouncy Ball

2008-10-06T17:54:00.002-06:00

Just a quick chemo update...

It's going well still, but I'm noticing that I don't bounce back as quickly as I did with my first few treatments. At the beginning, I'd feel icky on Thursday and sometimes Friday. That stretched out to Saturday after a while. And this week I've been feeling better than last week, but it's Monday already and I'm not back to "normal." I guess those cumulative effects are starting to get to me.

I hope I feel great this week, though, because I'm going to California, baby! Send me "feel good" vibes!

Race for the Cure

2008-10-06T16:52:00.022-06:00

Hello all! I survived the race! I had no idea what an ordeal it would be, but it was worth it!

65,000 people participated, which made me feel really good. I didn't know so many people cared! I had only two supporters with me, but they were good and loyal ones, so that made me feel good too. I expected to get all emotional and cry and potentially have a nervous breakdown or something, but I didn't feel that way at all. The only time I felt remotely choked up was when Susan told me it made her sad to see all the "I walk in celebration of..." and "I walk in remembrance of..." signs. I guess I thought I'd feel really attached and connected, but I somehow just didn't. Maybe it's because it's easy to feel lost in the crowd when there are 65,000 people. Maybe it's because being sad about any of it means being sad for me, and I don't want to be sad.

Anyway, in true Carrie-and-Susan fashion, we were running a little late and didn't know what we were getting ourselves into. Well, Susan didn't know how crazy crowded it was going to be, and I did know but failed to make a plan. We had trouble finding a parking space, and once we did we had to practically run to the start. We didn't know that with a gajillion people participating, it didn't matter at all if you were on time! Our parking place was probably about a mile from the start, so in the end we probably walked 5 miles for the cure. They'd better find a damn cure because we did extra! Walking three miles usually takes me about 45 minutes or so, but when half the world is walking with you, it takes about 2 hours. It ended up being a lot of time on my feet, more than usual, and the sun helped tire me out. I was exhausted by the end!

Enough of the blah blah blah (I really put the blah in blog, huh?), here are some photos!

Check out this video to get an impression of how many people were at the start. Keep in mind, this was the second race! Sorry in advance if you get motion sickness...

Here we are, ready to Race for the Cure!

Here's the Starting Line...

And we're finally racing!

Matt and his friend. Nice bunny ears!

Even dogs can Race for the Cure! I couldn't get over this dog in shoes!

Here's a bunch of racers against the Denver skyline. Hey Christopher-- Fuze Healthy Infuzions was a sponsor, and they gave out pink capes that said "Fuze for the Cure." I thought you would have enjoyed that!

Here's Susan, contemplating taking the Fort Collins exit and leaving the crowd behind...

My head started to get really hot in my wig, so I took it off and walked "pirate style." This photo was taken near the end of the race, so I made a good pirate face to show I was keeping strong. Arr matey!

The last leg of the race... this will give you an idea of what 65,00o people could look like!

The Finish Line! A sight we thought we'd never see!

I took this picture myself, so please ignore my double chin! We're finally at the finish line!

Two Month Chemo-versary

2008-10-04T12:31:00.005-06:00

Today marks the two-month anniversary of the day I received my first chemotherapy infusion. How time flies! I still remember that day; I was excited and nervous, and my sister and parents came with me. I didn't want them to have to see me hurt, so I tried to pick a seat where they couldn't see me get poked. I remember being surprised at how old everyone else was, and I remember feeling really awkward not knowing the protocol of how things were supposed to go. I remember getting knocked off my ass with Benadryl and being so sleepy I couldn't speak.

Now when I go to chemo, I go alone. I don't need anyone to be there with me because all I do is sleep, and that would be very boring for a guest. When I get there, I say hi to everyone I know. I know exactly what I want to have for the time I'm there and get it all ready: a table, with my iPod, GameBoy, phone, water and a juice box; a blanket or two to keep me warm; and my prayer shawl knitted by Auntie Alice. I take my shoes off, lean my chair back, cover myself up, and get ready for a drowsy 2-3 hours. I'm an old pro now.

So two months down already. And a little over two more to go. I can do this. No sweat.

I don't feel too good today, but I'd better get to feeling great! I have a race tomorrow! No running of course. And California in just 4...3...2...1...! And birthday in 10 days!

Today I had a great cancer moment. I was trying to sleep in, but the doorbell rang. The doorbell never rings, so I figured I'd better answer. I was hoping it would be a delivery guy with beautiful flowers from a mysterious benefactor, but it was door-to-door Obama people. I didn't bother putting a hat on, and I was just wearing my bathrobe. I told them I wasn't that interested in the election this year, as I have more important things going on. Blah blah blah, they asked if I had cancer, yes, what kind, breast, my mom had that, oh, can she pray for you, sure. Flowers would have been better.

You know, the funny thing about cancer is that someone has to tell you you're sick. I was feeling pretty good before diagnosis, before treatment. Usually when you're sick, you go to the doctor and tell the doctor you're sick and you feel like crap. After, the doctor helps you and you feel better. In the case of cancer, you go to the doctor and the doctor tells you you're sick. And then the doctor helps you and you feel like crap. But eventually you feel better. Right?

Something that disturbs me about cancer is that the patient has no real idea what's going on inside of them. And neither does the doctor. You have to have tests and images and scans and whatnot to tell you what's going on. For all I know, cancer is spreading in me right now. For all I know, there is no cancer in me now at all. Who knows? It bothers me not to know what's going on in my own body. And it bothers me that, regardless of why I have cancer, it's something that my body is doing to me. It's something I'm doing to myself, and I don't know why, and I don't know how to stop!

Stop making cells! Easier said than done, eh Marc, as I now realize... unfortunately...

If everything were different today, I know what I'd do. I'd call up that guy, and I'd see if he wanted to get a beermosa with me. Days like today always make me think of him. Days like today make me nostalgic for my old life. But everything is not different. And for the record, he's always told me I was, indeed, good for him.

Oh well. Cheers to today! Send me positive thoughts and good vibrations that I'll be feeling better for my race and my Chemo-cation!

Just When I Was Starting to Feel Better

2008-10-03T17:39:00.001-06:00

Seriously?!?!?!?

Thursday. Already!

2008-10-02T21:55:00.003-06:00

Why hello again!

Today is usually the beginning of Ick City. But it wasn't too bad today. I attribute this to a number of things... For one, I quit taking Ambien because it was making me hallucinate these neato, diaphanous, floaty thingies and a cat (Yes, it was on my pillow. And I did try to touch it to make sure it wasn't actually my cat. It wasn't. It was a hallucikitty.) and then I had a really realistic nightmare-type thing. So that freaked me out. I started taking Ativan, which is a drug for anxiety, nausea and sleep. I took two on Tuesday night because one just wasn't doing the trick. I may have made an ill-advised phone call, but oh well. I took only one last night. I slept reasonably well.

In case you're confused as to why I'm taking sleeping meds, Decadron, the steroid I have to take with my chemo cocktail, makes my head all buzzy and has insomnia as a side effect. My drugs for side effects have side effects. The whole chemo game is a balancing act, really. You have to use one drug or vitamin or supplement to outweigh the negative effects of the others. So I take Decadron intravenously for side effects from the chemo, and then I take Ativan for side effects from the Decadron. And I'm sure I'll have to take something to balance out the Ativan. Ha, just kidding, I hope. Apparently Ativan is one of those "fun drugs," as in normal people like to abuse it. This is pretty much the first time I've had this type of drug in my possession. I plan on using it according to the directions (because I'm a square). Plus I'm not a very anxious type, so I don't really notice much of a change when I take it. Except I get to sleep. Ahhhhh a nice feeling. It's just a Tuesday/Wednesday drug.

I also did a good job at getting a walk today. Since I slept in, I didn't get to have breakfast with my parents. So I walked to Rocky Mountain Bagel Works to get a whole wheat bagel, eating it on the walk home. Multi-tasking! I rarely single-task anymore, so you can see why multi-tasking is a big deal. I also did laundry and watched a movie with my mom. The combo of moving around AND taking it easy tends to be a good one.

But wait, there's more! I went out with Susan to register for the Race for the Cure. To anyone who might come on down and join the fun, you may want to register ahead of time. We went to Runner's Roost, paid the $30, and got our numbers and t-shirts. If you want to come, it's not too late! Call me or email me or leave a comment, and we'll find a way to meet up!

Participating in the Race for the Cure brought up a technical question for me. There are special parts of the event that apply to survivors only, such as certain free things and pink shirts v. white shirts. I started to wonder, "when do I get to call myself a survivor? After treatment? A year after treatment? Five years after diagnosis?" I brought this question up on a message board I've been frequenting, http://www.youngsurvival.org/, and the best response was this:

The minute you find out you have cancer and you don't drop dead from the
shock, you are a survivor. Get the free stuff. Love, Ruth

I have to say, that was an awesome answer! So I'm officially a survivor. Pink shirt for me.

Last Thursday, I was feeling a lot sicker than I am today. So I'm glad that today is better! It doesn't help that the weather keeps pooping out at the end of the week. I'm one of those people who thrives on sunshine; a gray day really brings me down. Let's hope there's sun in the forecast for the rest of the weekend!

So that does it for the "update" aspect of this post. Now we can move on to the three topics on my mind. Go get a drink, have a stretch, make a phone call. This could take a while.

Topic One: How to Live in a World that Is Trying to Kill You

OK, the title is probably a little more dramatic than the actual situation. But here's what I've been thinking about. Stressing about. Obsessing about.

My genetic test came back negative for BRCA1 and BRCA2 genetic mutations. Apparently not that many young breast cancer patients actually test positive for the gene mutation, which is contrary to what many would think. So as far as we can tell, my cancer is not genetic.

This leaves me wondering why I have breast cancer. And why I have it now. I'd like to think that my lifestyle hasn't been bad enough to warrant cancer. And even if it was, it would have been only, say, 7 years since I left home and was "taking care of myself." Could I really have done enough damage to give myself cancer at 25?

I've been told to just let it go, to quit wondering why I have cancer. It's not like I wonder about it all the time, but it would be really nice to know why this is happening to me, and why now. And the worry that has consumed my mind is whether the world, and our global situation, is killing people.

I keep hearing about how there are all sorts of products out there that are causing cancer. And how refined sugars and bleached flours and processed foods are making people sick. And there's pollution in the air. And in the water. And who knows what kind of long-term side effects some medicines have. I feel like everything is unhealthy. Today I had a lot of trouble trying to eat because everything I came up with was bad for one reason or another. Too much sugar. Fried. Too fatty. Has soy. Might have come from a hormone-injected animal. Pesticides. Even supplemental vitamin C is being researched to see if it helps protect cancer while protecting other cells.

If changing small things, like my diet, can help me ward off cancer, that's great. But what if it's something bigger that's causing an increase in cancer? What if it's the environment?

There don't seem to be any easy answers to this, and it has me worried. I mean, why waste time eating a special and ultra-boring diet if breathing the air and drinking the water is what's killing us? I remember not so long ago my response when someone would tell me something (anything) is a carcinogen. I would flippantly respond with "Everything causes cancer." I didn't give a crap back then (ummm 75 days ago). Now I'm terrified I was right. How am I, or really, how are we supposed to live in a world that might just be toxic to human beings?

Mostly I just never want to deal with cancer ever again ever in my life EVER. NEVER.

Topic Two: Concern That I'm Wasting My Life

This is the topic that inspired the title of this post, "Thursday. Already!" During treatment, I feel like I'm just waiting for time to pass. I want time to fly by and disappear in a cartoon-like whoosh, and then to find myself, smiling, healthy, "cured," at the end of this dark tunnel, ready to live my life again.

I sorta feel like I've "checked out" a little bit. Like I'm not really participating in my own life, just waiting for the icky part to pass me by. Sorta numb, almost. I guess I feel like I should be doing more, experiencing more. I mean, if anything, I'm learning how precious life is, each and every day. So why am I not actively out there enjoying it, absorbing life's gifts and pleasures?

Oh yeah, maybe it has to do with the toxic medicine swirling around in my body. I guess that's a decent excuse.

There's also this feeling inside that this is not my life. My life is easy and great and fun and exciting, and this life is not fun and not easy and scary and icky and really boring sometimes. But I know I'll be getting back to my good life. It'll be a little bit. But I know when I'm done, I'll be like "whoa, that seemed kinda fast." I just look forward to that day.

In the long run, I'm happy that time is passing relatively quickly. Can you believe I had my first chemo infusion almost two months ago???

Also, I've noticed that my thumbnails and big toenails are starting to turn dark at the bases. Blackish. It's gross. Whatever. I should have a showcase to highlight every "side effect of the week."

Topic Three: A Year Ago Now-ish

Maybe it's the birthday. Maybe it's the Peacemakers. But something is making me think back to what was going on a year ago from about now, and how much better that was than this.

A year ago now-ish, I was getting ready to go to Circus Mexicus, Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers' big show in Mexico, with a great friend. This year, no one wanted to go with me, and everyone was scared that I'd end up needing a hospital on the wrong side of the border. I really wish I was going! Oh well. It's better this way, and I am going to California.

This time last year, I was happy about recently being promoted (to a job I ended up hating). I was excited about meeting a guy (who turned out to be bad for me). I changed apartments (to a way nicer place with a cool roommate/landlady!). And I went to San Francisco (which I'm doing again YAY!).

So some of it is the same, and some of it is different; some was good and some was bad. But mostly, that was my life before cancer. I wonder if I had cancer then, actually. Who knows.

Sometimes I worry I'll never be the same person I was before cancer, and that I didn't really get a fair chance to be the "normal" me for very long. I worry I'll change... that I'm changing... and that I'll look back and wish I was still the same. Even worse, I worry that I'll look back and not even remember the person I used to be. OK, enough worry for today.

I wish I had nose hairs so that when I get upset and cry a little, snot would stay in my nose better. Ha.

I can't wait until it's next year, this time. I think I will have a lot more to celebrate.

Life comes at ya fast.

But anyway, the major point of this post was to say HOORAY I'M FEELING DECENT TODAY, AND CHEERS TO HAVING A GREAT WEEKEND! I'm going shopping on Saturday, Racing for a Cure on Sunday, going to the dermatologist on Monday for these yucky bumps, infusing Chemo 10 on Tuesday, and flying to California, baby, on Wednesday!

Your Lovely Baldy

2008-09-29T21:48:00.010-06:00

So I'm gonna be brave here and post some ugly photos of me. At least I'm wearing makeup, which is a rare occurrence anymore.

My hair is almost all gone, but there's still some stragglers hanging on. I should probably shave it again, but that just sounds so messy. I think it'll all come out with the next round anyway.

From straight on, it's not that bad...

But from the side, it's more noticeable. Plus, I just took my hat off, which makes my hair squish down and I look even balder.

Here's me as "The Thinker." I'm sure Susan would find this hilarious-- "Chemo Brain" has slowed my thought process and she's very patient when I try to express myself. Not much of a "thinker" anymore.

I miss my hair! Here's a blast from the past to remember what I looked like WITH hair... I believe I was 23 in this picture? Hard to say...

Aw, look at that girl. She has no idea what's coming...

Ready for Chemo 9

2008-09-29T13:56:00.003-06:00

Well, my last post was short and got 4 comments, so I'm postulating that the shorter the post, the more comments. Maybe my long posts exhaust my readers to the point that they can't muster a comment! Just kidding. But thanks to my commenters for commenting, and thanks to my readers for reading, and thanks to my supporters for supporting! And thanks to Auntie Judy, who just bridged the generation gap!

As you might have noticed, I had kind of a rough week this week. My side effects were just a little worse this week, which makes sense because chemotherapy is a cumulative process. That means that as I have more treatments, the effect piles up on itself, getting a little worse each time. I think that's true, but I'm hoping this week goes better than the last. And I hope the next week goes super duper awesome because I'm going to California! Wahooooo!

When I feel sick from the chemo, it really puts me into a bad, dark mood. Usually I'm pretty positive and happy, but when I feel sick it really makes me aware that I am sick. I don't like being a sick person. Sometimes I feel like the people around me think maybe this isn't so serious because I'm handling it pretty well (and my modesty helps... heh!) and I'm feeling pretty good usually. But this is a serious situation, a serious disease. When I really get down to thinking about it, I am truly fighting for my life here. If I were to have avoided going to the doctor, or if for whatever reason decided not to be treated, I would die. And that's just true. And that's also scary.

OK, enough of that scary stuff. I have my ninth chemo infusion this week, which is... two things. Amazing, because I don't feel like I've been doing "this whole thing" for two months already. Crappy, because I still have about three months left to go, and I feel like time will never pass fast enough. Anyway, Chemo 9 is tomorrow, and I'd appreciate some thoughts and prayers that I'll be back to feeling good this week. Then I have a little over a week to prepare for my trip, then Chemo 10, then CALIFORNIA, then MY BIRTHDAY, and then Chemo 11.

I gotta say, usually I'd be freaking out about how old 26 sounds, feels. But this year I feel young! So young! And I can attribute that to the fact that I have breast cancer, an old lady disease. Everyone with cancer that I see is old. Not always old like a grandma, but old like someone who could be a mom. Either way, older than yours truly. I'm gonna ask if there's any young people getting treatment at my place to see if I can go when they're there. Maybe I'll meet a guy. Hehehe, that would be... probably bad. But it would be nice to find some people my age going through treatment. We could be paranoid together about recurrences. I'd say we could hold each other's hair when we're puking, but... we could be bald together and commiserate about side effects. It might be normalizing.

I have an appointment today with Dr. M., my oncologist. I emailed her a zillion questions the other day, and she said that my questions were very good, but didn't lend themselves to email explanations. I'm excited to talk with her again and learn more things-- cancer is freakin' complicated! We might be able to talk about surgery again, which is very scary to me. I just really don't want to have to have a mastectomy. But if I do have to, then it would be nice to know now so I can start mentally accepting it. I'll tell you the answers to my questions once I know, and then you can be cancer-smart too.

It's amazing to think how much I know about breast cancer in comparison to what I knew about three months ago. I knew nothing before, and now I know all sorts of stuff. At Chemo Ocho, I was waiting (in the waiting room... imagine!) and overheard a phone conversation that a secretary was having with a potential new patient. They were talking about surgeons, and it was clear that this woman on the other end of the line was newly diagnosed. I thought back to when that was me, and it just wasn't so long ago. Really recent, actually! Just less than three months. And I imagined how scared and sad and upset and mad she must be. I just remember being there, how it sucked so much, and then I realized how much has happened to me since then, how far I've come. I also thought about how if I hadn't have met with Dr. S., my surgical second opinion, then I would probably be breastless now, never knowing that there would have been a chance I could have a lumpectomy after neo-adjuvant chemotherapy (that means chemo then surgery). I just wanted to grab the phone and tell this mystery woman, "I've been there and I'm still here! You'll get there. And get a second opinion!"

I'm gonna make myself look as pretty as I can get (not so easy without hair and weird acne breakout bumps all over my neck) and then take a picture of my balding self for you. Because I'm brave like that.

OK, now I'm going to "think." I put it in quotation marks because thinking is not what it once was for me. I have a lot of trouble concentrating, especially Wednesday through Friday or so. I need to make sure I can remember all my questions I want to ask. Well, at least for this week.

Oh yeah, before I go-- the Race for the Cure is this Sunday, October 5 (and Marc turns 26, but he'll be in Vegas so forget him! Ha!) and Susan, Kater and I are planning on staying in Denver Saturday night. We're all just going to register individually-- I think it's $30-- and walk together. If anyone wants to make a donation in my name (or in their name... or in anyone's name... or in no one's name... you get my drift), please do! Cuz cancer sucks, and CarrieHatesCancer! I'm a little fuzzy on the details, I know, but I'll get to calling people to make a plan. I'm really looking forward to it!

OK, Better Now

2008-09-27T15:09:00.002-06:00

I'm feeling a little better now and I'm in a better mood. Finally!

Maybe it's because I got popcorn at Target today. You know how I feel about popcorn...!

Grrrr

2008-09-24T23:59:00.000-06:00

OK, I'm ready to wake up from this nightmare now.

Chemo Ocho

2008-09-23T23:22:00.004-06:00

One more day, beating cancer, it's Chemo Ocho! That's a rip-off of an RCPM "Turbo Ocho" song!

I had all these things that I wanted to say today, but I'm really having "chemo brain." Can't focus or remember for the life of me! Hmmmm!

Hopefully tomorrow I'll remember and be able to use my brain...

I've walked over 2 miles a day, every day, for well over a week! And it's making me feel good-- errrr... better!

Anyway, some things I can say about today:

I forgot to put on my lidocaine number cream on my port site this morning. Oops! I'm acting like a newbie instead of someone who has had 7 previous infusions. It hurt a little, but not badly.
My granulocytes (infection-fighting white blood cells) went down this week. :( They were at a whopping 2.9 last week, and they're at 2.1 this week. But that's still good!
I asked my nurse a million questions this time. She's so nice-- a real angel! Anyway, tonight I will be taking 6 pills. UGH. One blood thinner, two sleeping pills, two antibiotics for all these bumps that appeared on my face, back and neck, and a Vitamin E for my stupid hot flashes. Good thing I have a big Nalgene (which I just knocked over... darn! Water everywhere!). I hope I don't drink too much and sleep too hard with my Ambien that I pee in my bed!!!! TMI?
I wanted to sign up for a free exercise class at a gym here that offers a special cancer-folk workout class with a trainer, but they're worried about my port. So apparently avoid strength training but go for cardio. Hmph.
I have two sores in my mouth that won't go away, so now I have instructions on what to do. I'm going to start with baking soda/salt mouthwash, and if that doesn't work, switch to Biotene, some sort of enzymatic mouthwash. And if that doesn't work, I have a prescription for another mouthwash with some number in it. And I bought special toothpaste, which is miracle stuff according to Big Brother.

I talked to another patient today. I usually don't do that much. I usually just show up, sit down, chemo-fy, and check out. But I think she likes to talk to me... I have no idea why, maybe she's just chatty. Anyway, she's in a really shit situation as far as cancer goes. I hope things look up for her. I have a feeling I'm going to meet a lot of people in scary situations. Please, let's all pray that this is a one shot deal for me, that we knock this out of the park and IT NEVER COMES BACK!

I think metastatic cancer is the scariest thing in the world to me right now. Actually, I think it will always be the scariest thing in the world to me.

I Wonder How That Happened...?

2008-09-20T12:52:00.006-06:00

Somehow I neglected to write a post about the day I was diagnosed. So I wrote one, and it's waaaay back on July 16 ("My Date Which Will Live in Infamy"). So there!

I'm having a pretty decent week. The trick really is to get the hell out of bed early (hehehe that means before 10:00 a.m. for me...!) and make sure to move around. It helps so much. Every day this week I've walked at least two miles. I gotta keep it up, and I think it is helping me drop some of that extra 4-5 pounds I've added. Lemme tell ya, it's hard to tell yourself "No, you can't have dessert with every meal," when you can so easily follow it up with "OK, fine, you do have cancer, so what can it hurt?" A little walking, a little less indulgence, and things are starting to look a little better.

I think I need to clean my room. No, I know I need to clean my room. So I'll go work on that and quit avoiding the necessary! I might even go for a hike today... if not, an "urban hike," a.k.a. a walk...

Hot Hot Hot!

2008-09-18T12:25:00.000-06:00

I have a new side effect that I think really sucks. So one side effect from chemo is decreased fertility. Which, in general, is fine, because I'm not really interested in using my fertility now or anytime soon. For a woman, decreased fertility can mean early menopause, which is hopefully temporary. So no periods for a while, which actually isn't so bad. The major concern is that my period won't come back and I won't be able to bear children in the future. Two of the doctors I've talked to (my oncologist and my surgeon) both seemed to think my period will come back. My oncologist, who is some sort of statistic fiend, said I have about an 80-85% chance of my period coming back, which I think is a pretty good chance.

I'm not really thinking about my fertility much. I would be upset to find myself sterile, but I'm not one of those girls who's always dreamed of having kids. I'm not necessarily sure that's what I want, and even if it were and I were unable to get pregnant, I could always adopt. It works pretty well from what I hear...

Anyway, the fertility thing isn't the crappy side effect. It's the hot flashes.

Naturally, along with the menopause (I was supposed to get my period over a week ago I think... didn't happen... sorry to all you people out there who really don't want to hear about my menstrual cycle... just part of the territory these days...) come the side effects of menopause, including hot flashes. When I mentioned them to the nurse on Tuesday, it was as if she was a psychic. She asked if I was having trouble sleeping because of them.

Yes. In fact I am.

The random flashes of feeling REALLY hot throughout the day aren't so bad. They don't last very long, and usually I'm wearing a jacket or something and can just take it off until I cool off. But I've been having trouble sleeping through the night because I wake up super hot and sweaty, similar to trying to sleep when you have a high fever. Before now, sleeping all the way through the night wasn't a problem. I hate waking up in the middle of the night. It really affects how rested I feel the next day.

I opened my window to try to keep it a little cooler for me. That's helped a little. It's funny; at first I didn't make the connection between my trouble sleeping and chemotherapy.

Hot flashes at age 25. That's a rich one.

California Or Bust (as if there weren't enough things going on with my bust!)

2008-09-18T11:12:00.009-06:00

I received my 7th Taxol treatment on Tuesday. Whoo hoo! I'm on the downward slope of Taxol, which is great. I do feel like I'm making progress in finishing treatment. But it's long and slow. Luckily for me, I know some really cool people in California, and I just booked flights last night for a visit. I'm so excited! I'll be hanging out in Carmel for a few days and San Francisco for a few days. And the flights were really well priced-- two one-way tickets, Denver to San Jose and San Francisco to Denver, for $189!

So now I have about three weeks to look forward to my trip, or in other methods of time measurement, three treatments. After Chemo 10, I will enjoy six days of beaches, good food, and even better company! I can't wait! And the day after I return to good ol' Colorado, I will turn 26. CAKE! And ice cream! Cool! I think I'm going to have Chemo 11 moved to October 15 so I don't have to have an infusion on my birthday.

See, I told you October is a cool month! Race for the Cure, California Adventures, and Birthday! And Halloween! I'm thinking about going as Mr. Clean because I will be bald!

At my follow-up appointment, we talked about the next phase of chemotherapy drugs and side effects. Yuck. I'll tell you more about that in another post because my eyes are getting tired looking at the screen and you're probably getting bored too.

Until next time!

Race for the Cure

2008-09-15T16:31:00.003-06:00

Hello again everyone!

As I mentioned (and will continue to mention for the next month), my birthday is in October, making October my very favorite month. But October is a special month for another reason; it's National Breast Cancer Awareness Month (how appropriate). Be sure to buy yourself a special bag of pink M&Ms to celebrate!

If you're looking for something to do to commemorate National Breast Cancer Awareness Month, the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure is on Sunday, October 5 in Denver. I have loose plans on participating, but I was wondering if there are any of you out there who'd like to join me. Of course there's no pressure, but I thought maybe some of you might be interested.

Anyone?

The Moral of the Story

2008-09-14T15:05:00.005-06:00

Today I wrote an email to someone I haven't talked to in a really long time. I consider her a friend, but I just now told her the news. There are quite a few people I consider friends but don't talk to very often. For this group of friends, I've sort of been waiting to tell them about my breast cancer saga until they contact me to say hello. I hope they don't feel ambushed or neglected; it's just that I don't feel like contacting someone I haven't spoken to in a long time just to say, "Hello! How've you been? Oh me? Cancer!"

Anyway, this got me thinking about why I tell people I have cancer. I mean, I'm not embarrassed or ashamed about it or anything. And I don't think of it as a secret. It's more just... personal. I read a book called "I Am Not My Breast Cancer," (and by "read," I mean flipped through-- it was a downer...) and some of the survivors said they hardly told anyone about their cancer. Some kept it just to their families, some told a few people at work. I don't think I could do that. Especially because I would have to lie about certain things and wear a wig. Like when friends ask how Winter Park is. I guess I could just say I moved and leave it at that. Hm. But I didn't want to leave Winter Park.

I tell people because I think they care and they'd want to know. And I think having more friends thinking about me and praying for me can't hurt. But a really important reason I tell people, and I don't think I've emphasized this much, is that I think every woman needs to know that breast cancer is something that can and does happen, even to really healthy women, even to really young women, even to me. The new statistic is that 1 in every 8 women will have breast cancer in her life. That's a pretty high number. I guess I haven't gotten on my soapbox to tell my friends this important message; I thought they'd deduce for themselves that if I can end up with breast cancer, they, too, could develop breast cancer. It's very unlikely, thank goodness, but I want every single one of you women out there to be aware of the chance. I want to make sure all of you are taking good care of yourselves!

So get to know your boobs, girls! I will openly admit that every time I went for my yearly exam at the gynecologist's office, she would ask if I performed monthly self exams. And I didn't. I always thought I should, but never really got down to doing it every month. It just didn't seem that important. And I don't know if I would have caught this earlier if I did perform monthly self exams, but I wonder. It's not that you'll be looking for a lump, but it's really important to know what's going on in there so you can notice changes.

Sometimes I wish that having cancer was like the chicken pox-- you can only get it once and then you're good for life. But I know it's not that way, almost the opposite. I just don't want to live my life scared of getting cancer again. I also wish the "1 in 8 women" statistic meant that 7 of my friends would be spared. I would bear this burden more happily if it meant I could keep 7 of my friends breast cancer free!

It's funny-- every time I tell someone new about my breast cancer situation, it's like I'm re-living the whole scenario. Not in a bad way, I just feel like I can't believe it. It's so unreal to me still sometimes. I have cancer? I have breast cancer? Whoa. No wait, really? REALLY? I can't believe that the story went the way it did. I was afraid that my lumps could be cancer, but somehow, looking back, I keep seeing all these times where it could have just been nothing. Like if my ultrasound showed cysts instead of tumors. Or if my biopsy came back negative. Or if somehow my sample got mixed up with someone else's.

It just goes to show us all that breast cancer does not discriminate. I still wonder why this is happening to me; why do I have cancer? I'm glad my genetic test was negative, but a positive result would have at least explained why I have breast cancer at age 25. Oh well.

Anyway, as far as my day-to-day goes, I've had a really good week this week. I dragged myself out of bed to meet my parents for breakfast (They go out to breakfast every morning. I kid you not.) on Thursday and Friday, which are days I usually feel crappy. I normally sleep in on those days, but I found out, at least for this week, that if I get up, eat, and drink lots of fluids, I feel fine for the rest of the day. Looking back, I didn't take a single nap this week. And I felt pretty good for the most part. Wahoo! I'll have to try the same thing next week to see if this routine works.

Did I tell you my head makes me look like a baby bird? My hair is thin and sparse, like baby bird feathers. I'll post a picture soon (maybe) but I think it looks really ugly and gross. Hats hats hats! And my head itches a lot. What's that about?

Also important to note is that last Tuesday was Chemo 6. That's right, folks, 6 out of 12 Taxol treatments are done! The halfway mark of my Taxol treatments was celebrated with a nice Italian dinner with my sister and parents at Canino's... with chocolate cheesecake... yum! I think it's safe to say I'm about one third done with treatment. It's a little less than that, but it sounds good. I'm trying to plan a trip to California to visit some friends, but we'll see how that goes. It would be really nice to have a trip to look forward to, and to pass some time in sunny (or cloudy) California.

And even more importantly, my birthday is one month from today! Wahoo! I'm a huge birthday person; I love that there's a day devoted to the celebration of my birth. I thought 25 was the most awesome year of my life, but that only lasted for maybe 3 months. It got considerable less cool when I was diagnosed with cancer. And I wish I didn't have to start year 26 with cancer, but there's no way around it so I'll deal. 26: The Beginning of the Decline of My Twenties. Yipes. But I think this year will bring big things. I'm sure of it. I'm excited!

The Head Shaving Party (was a long time ago... I know...)

2008-09-10T17:31:00.011-06:00

I know I promised pictures (and maybe someday video...) from my head shaving party. And I know that was over three weeks ago. So I apologize for the wait!

I just figured out how to load it on my blog! I'm a freakin' computer genius!

I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been reading my blog. I really appreciate your support and your kind words mean more to me than you probably know. A special shout-out to my favorite Mountain Roses-- Gail, Beth, Sudi and Hailey. I want you guys to know that I receive and read every single one of your comments. And to you shy violets out there, please know you're welcome to leave me a comment anytime! I love and appreciate all of you supporters so much!

Pills Pills Pills

2008-09-05T14:05:00.003-06:00

Today I didn't get out of bed until 1:45 p.m. Needless to say, I'm not feeling so great today. But that pretty much happens every week; Thursday-Saturday are usually the days I feel sick.

Chemo 5 went just fine on Tuesday. I had my purse stocked to the brim with stuff to entertain me and block out noise because the previous week's patients were loud and I couldn't sleep. I was semi-annoyed... But when I got there, the "noisy guy" was leaving as I was coming, so it didn't matter in the end.

On Monday, I noticed that my big toe on my left foot was hurting. I wanted to be really careful of whatever it was so that it wouldn't end up infected or anything. I thought maybe it was an ingrown toenail, but I've never had one of those, so I didn't know. My chemo nurse looked at it and said it looked fine, but that she'd ask what I should do about it. She told me to soak it in Epsom salt water and put Neosporin on it, and if it didn't clear up in by Thursday to call. Well, it still hurt yesterday, so I called. And the nurse called back and told me that I'd have to take antibiotics (again) and have it seen if it doesn't clear up by Monday.

Every time I have to take more pills, I get a little more annoyed and upset. It's really frustrating because I don't like taking medicine. This toe thing frustrates me because I know if I weren't receiving chemotherapy treatments, my body would be strong enough to fight off this little cut, or whatever it is. But because I'm in treatment, I just can't do it. My typically strong and healthy body has become a weak, incompetent, and unreliable piece of junk. My white blood cells have been kinda low for the last couple weeks, but at least they went up a little this week.

I just got off of antibiotics on Monday. They found some sort of bacteria in my urine, which apparently was something that some doctors would treat and some would not. Given my situation, we treated it just to be safe. The medicine seriously rocked my stomach system, which wasn't fun. I was really happy to be done with those pills, especially because I had to take them every 8 hours. It's hard to remember to do that, especially for two damn weeks! The new antibiotic is worse because I have to take it every 6 hours. Which means I have to set an alarm to wake up just to take it. At least it's just for a week. And I hope it works.

I know the toe thing is just a minor setback, but I don't like feeling like a weakling.

On Tuesday, I got a prescription for sleeping pills because I don't/can't sleep Tuesday and Wednesday nights. I took one on Tuesday and it really helped. I fell asleep quickly on Wednesday, but then tossed and turned all night. I'll take one both nights next week, I think; it really made a difference.

Since I'm already bitching and complaining and being a Debbie Downer (and it's even Friday!), I may as well go for the home run. My hair is coming out really fast now, and it's annoying and embarrassing and uncomfortable and upsetting. It gets on my neck, clothes and pillow, and it's itchy. And it gets everywhere else too-- on counters, on my face, everywhere. When I'm washing it, it looks like I just petted a shedding dog with a wet hand. THERE'S JUST SO MUCH! I'm glad my hair is so thick because I'd be bald by now if I had normal hair. I think I'll have someone shave it again because I can't stand all these little hairs. Although I think because they're a little longer, they cover a little more of my bare head...

I just really hate the feeling that the chemo is so strong and I'm becoming weaker such that my body can't continue to grow hair or even keep it in. It makes me seem... sick (well duh, I know). On the other hand, I guess I could say that since it's killing my hair, it's probably killing my cancer too... (Yay silver lining!)

Also, I feel like I'm getting fat, which is always a gross feeling. I was warned that a lot of people gain weight during treatment because they can't be as active. I was pretty active before all this because I waited tables all day and skied and stuff. But now I'm feeling good if I go for a 2-mile walk every once in a while. I don't know what exactly to do because I have to eat; I feel sick if I don't. And my body definitely needs food to rebuild itself. But I don't want to get fat! I feel disgusting enough as it is!

I was reading online about dating and relationships in respects to cancer and treatment, and I was so shocked and saddened to hear what some of these women have gone through. A few of them had boyfriends and husbands who cheated on them and left/divorced them during the treatment and recovery process. I couldn't believe it! It takes a strong man to stand by his partner through this, yeah, but to actually cause damage to someone who is already suffering? Sheesh. John Edwards is a jerk.

I was, at first, really bummed that things in my relationship didn't work out because I thought it would have been such a comfort to have support from a boyfriend. I guess I thought a boyfriend could be a supporter separate from family and friends, someone who was just for me. And someone who could tell me I am beautiful, even when I'm really not (seriously, the cancer patient look isn't a good one) and someone who could rub my shoulders when they hurt so much from the chemo. I wanted that kind of support.

To be fair and honest, the timing of things was extraordinarily bad because we broke up about a month before this whole cancer nonsense got started. I hoped we could work our ways back together and be there for each other during this difficult period, and we tried to stay friends. That didn't work out and caused more drama than I need in my life right now (or ever, really...). In the end, I'm glad not to be dealing with relationship problems, unforgivable betrayals, divorce, raising children, or anything. While it would be nice to have a significant other to battle breast cancer with, being single and surrounded by the strength and love of family and friends beats the hell out of trying to get well while dealing with a cheating scumbag.

Well, darlings, sorry about the downer of a post. But I feel better now! Enjoy the weekend!

For Lil Miss Haley (And Everyone Else!)

2008-09-03T20:03:00.007-06:00

I felt really good today, like good for someone who isn't going through chemo! So naturally, I did some retail therapy today!

I bought some new necklaces (I thought the one I went in the store for was $186, so I kept shopping and found another one. But then it turned out that 186 was the product number, and it was only $15 or so, so I ended up getting both...), a blue Nalgene (BPA free!), and an apple cutter. I tried to find a hat because my hair is coming out a lot more now. And I also got... some super fun and crazy wigs!

So here's some photos, because Haley (the coolest 15-year-old on the planet!) asked for it!

So what do you think?

I'll talk to you guys about Chemo Cinco later... but nothing exciting happened...

Today's Thought

2008-08-29T21:59:00.001-06:00

Cancer is crap.

Chemo Cuatro

2008-08-28T12:14:00.002-06:00

Carrie here, reporting on my fourth chemotherapy treatment and my follow-up appointment with my oncologist.

The follow-up appointment went really well. I talked with Dr. M. a little about the side effects I have been experiencing (fatigue later in the week, extreme thirst, tingling in my scalp, arms and legs the day of treatment, etc.) and all of that was normal. I asked whether or not it would be helpful to try to track down some biological family history, and she said that it couldn't hurt.

Then she performed a breast exam, and the first thing she said was, "Wow!" That was great to hear because she hadn't palpated (fancy word for "touched") my tumors since before I started chemotherapy treatment. She said I was a star patient, and that I made her day because my tumors have responded so incredibly well to the chemo. She was going to do some measurements, but in the end she couldn't feel much to measure. She wrote down "impalpable" on my chart. She was very positive and pleased with my progress, which in turn made me, Mom and Dad all feel good. No, great!

I asked some more questions about what happens AFTER I finish chemo and surgery, as far as surveillance goes and what not. She said there will be blood tests and breast exams, and also some mammograms, but it won't be as heavy on the imaging. I need to remember to ask if a blood test is more sensitive than imaging, because I really have no idea. She reminded me that I won't be considered cured until I have survived 5 years past my diagnosis. I guess I already knew that, but it was important to hear again. 5 years is a really long time to me; I can't believe I'm going to have to be so careful and worried about cancer until I'm 30, which is also when I approximate that I'll have long hair again... And I'll still have to be really vigilant over the course of my entire life, I imagine...

My hair is starting to come out a little more now, which is kind of upsetting. Everywhere I read that it's always traumatic for patients to lose their hair, no matter how prepared they are. I thought that was sort of silly at first; how can people say that it's a universal feeling? Although I felt like I'd be ready, I really don't like seeing more little short black hairs coming out on my hands when I wash my fuzzy head. I was upset yesterday about that. I'm really not looking forward to being a baldy...

I've been having some trouble sleeping. The new pattern I've noticed is that I don't sleep well at all on Tuesdays, the night after treatment. I just can't seem to sleep, and I don't know if that's because going to chemo puts more cancer thoughts on my mind, or if the drugs somehow cause my brain to go into hyper drive. I just keep thinking and thinking and my brain won't shut off, and this Tuesday night I didn't fall asleep until 5:30 a.m. Plus I have all this tingling in my head and arms and legs. Last night, I fell asleep pretty easily, but then woke up at 4:30 a.m. unable to fall back asleep. I started reading for a little bit (been reading a lot this week; I'm on my third book and almost finished) and then fell back asleep for a little while. I need more sleep! I have a lot on my mind outside of the whole cancer thing too, which certainly doesn't help.

My brother D. and sister-in-law C. got me all set up with an online Blockbuster subscription yesterday, so I'll have some cinematic entertainment to help me pass the time. That'll be nice; maybe I can start watching some movies at night when I'm not sleeping.

I made a cool slide show of the head shaving party, but for some reason I can't get it to load. I need to work on that and stop being such a slacker!

I'm off for a nap now; hope you all are enjoying your day!

Clipped Wings

2008-08-25T20:37:00.003-06:00

It's Chemo Eve (Treatment 4 tomorrow, already!), and I'm back to share more thoughts with you, my friends.

So as you may know, I'm living in my old place in Fort Collins with my sister. It's been pretty nice; our house is comfortable and all my stuff is finally pretty much put away. There are things that are really nice about being home-- my nuclear family is mostly all here and so are my oldest friends. Winter Park was a great place to live, but there are definitely some conveniences about "city" living that I missed. I do miss, however, not being able to walk everywhere. Most walks would probably tire me out anyway, but I try to go on a couple a week.

But something has started to bother me. I'm starting to feel sorta... trapped. I love traveling; it represents freedom to me. I love planning a trip, saving for a trip, looking forward to a trip, going on a trip, sharing a trip, remembering a trip. There's something about being able to afford a vacation (though mine are modest and short, and typically my financial situation is at least somewhere on my mental radar) that makes me feel grown up, like I'm know what I want and I'm doing it. At some point, I got tired of always talking about doing something spectacular and not following through. So I try not to give voice to a fleeting idea if I have no concrete intentions of realizing it. I think it started when I actually went to France for a year to study (sometimes I still can't believe I did that... I dreamed in French last night, come to think of it...), but it became more of a personal philosophy when I made my adolescent dream of being a ski bum come true.

In the days preceding my quarter-centennial, I was really freaked out about turning 25. The number just seemed too big, too solid. Too serious. But in the end, I went to Arizona; Rocky Point, Mexico; San Francisco; Las Vegas; and Seattle this year. Not bad!

But now I have chemotherapy treatments every week until the end of October, and then the bi-weekly treatments for another two months after that. Not only do I have to be physically present to receive treatment, but I also am supposed to avoid crowds and places with germs and sick people, making traveling and airplanes seem even less of a plausible or safe option. Plus, I'm tired most of the time and feel kinda crummy about half the time. Not good for vacation.

I've ready many places that cancer patients feel like they've lost control of their lives because things keep happening to them, not by their own doing. Not being able to do my thing, to fly away to wherever I want whenever I can, makes me feel like that. It's one of the things that makes me feel powerless. And kinda pissed, actually.

I really wanted to go to Vegas for the RCPM concert this weekend, and Mexico for Circus Mexicus around my birthday in October. I'm still reserving some hope for Circus Mexicus... but I really do feel like I can't leave home very easily. It makes me a little nervous to think of going away, even somewhere as close as Winter Park, because I know I'll be away from the familiar (and more adequate) medical facilities of Fort Collins. It would be a nightmare to go somewhere fun and exciting and then get sick and not know where to go. Scary.

I'm also thinking about the things I want to do after this whole cancer nonsense is over. I think I want to move away for a while and put this whole icky period of my life behind me, forget about it as much as I can. But I don't know how post-cancer surveillance works if I leave Fort Collins. I know that one of my doctors (not really clear on which one) will be keeping a close eye on me for the five years following my eventual clean bill of health. After five years, survival rates go way up; it's during the five years immediately following cancer that you have to be really careful of recurrences, apparently. I've been thinking that it would be fun to either move to a big city or Hawaii for a year, but does that mean I'd need to come back for all the doctors' appointments, or try to find a quality provider in my new spot? Sounds hard.

Anyway, maybe I'll try to tell cancer that it doesn't scare me, that it can't take away my freedom (how Braveheart of me...), and go on a little trip. I guess we'll see. But I'm getting to the point where I need to plan some little milestone events to look forward to, to help the time pass and to get me through this.

Tomorrow I have an appointment with the oncologist. I don't really know what it's for; I'm guessing she'll do an exam and take measurements of my tumors to chart my progress. I really hope she thinks things are going well! After that, I have chemo, as usual... I think it took only 2 hours last week, so that was nice. This week, I think I'm braving it alone. And that's OK.

Hair Update: My hair hasn't really started to fall out. I just thought you'd want to know. It kinda makes me feel like the chemo isn't working, but hopefully it is.

Shout Out: Congratulations to Big Brother Michael, reportedly devoted reader Lindsay Smith, and the entire SUNY Buffalo women's soccer team for their first victory of many to come this season! Whoo hoo!

On Brilliant T-Shirt Ideas

2008-08-21T14:31:00.003-06:00

I forgot to tell you something funny. The day after we shaved our heads, I told Susan my great idea for a T-shirt she could make. It would say:

"My sister got cancer and all I got was this lousy haircut."

HA!

Chemo Three-mo, Genetic Test Results, Fuzzy Head, Etc.

2008-08-21T00:13:00.007-06:00

Hello out there! I keep kicking myself for not updating more often. A lot of the time, nothing is really happening, and then something happens that makes me too busy to write, and then more stuff happens and I have to write a lot!

Chemo Three-mo

Well anyway, I had my third chemo treatment on Tuesday, and that went just fine. They gave me half the dose of the Benadryl, but I slept through the whole chemo process anyway. When I was finished, however, I was less groggy. But after a fun-filled weekend with my SF friend, I was pretty tired and sickly going into treatment. After, I was just plain exhausted! They've started infusing the chemo into me at a faster rate, which means I don't have to be there for so long. So that's nice.

I've noticed some trends in my side effects, now that I've done it three (!) times. On Tuesday, I'm tired and groggy from my medicine, and sooo thirsty. The nurse gave me an extra bag of saline to try to help me get a head start on hydration. I get tingling on my scalp, from my elbows to my fingers, and from my knees to my toes. This is particularly annoying when I try to go to sleep. I haven't been sleeping well on Tuesday nights, which makes for pretty lame Wednesdays. I feel pretty good on Wednesdays, though. And I try to take it pretty easy because I'm still scared of having to go to the hospital again. Thursdays are kinda rough and I feel extra tired and very prone to getting sick. Then once my energy levels pick up, I've noticed I have a low grade headache for most of the time. Treatment really isn't that bad, but I never feel great anymore, and it's like I'm running at 65-87% all the time. I'm noticing a little bit of what they call "chemo brain," which is being unable to focus and remember some stuff. It's annoying, but at least now I have an excuse for being sorta spacey! All in all, it could be way worse.

Genetic Test Results

On Monday, someone called from my oncologist's office to tell me I have to take antibiotics because they found some sort of bacteria growing in my urine test. I guess it's a bacteria that some doctors would treat and some would let go, so I take it that it's nothing serious. I just have to take a pill every 8 hours, which isn't the most convenient, but then again, what do I have going on? Anyway, the guy also wanted to tell me that I would have an appointment with my oncology nurse to discuss the results of my genetic test. I sorta felt the air suck out of my lungs, but ended up just saying OK.

When I hung up, I realized that I would have to think of the fact that my results were in but I wouldn't know them for an entire day. That would drive me CRAZY! I hate waiting for any results! So I called back and asked if anyone could talk to me that day, and the guy said that usually the nurse needs to tell you information regarding the meaning of your results. So that was a bummer. And then, and before I was ready, he said, "But I can tell you that you were negative for the mutation." I wasn't ready to hear the results right then, but since the result was good, I was sooooo relieved! Finally, some good news!

A negative result means that the lab didn't find any mutations on my BRCA1 or BRCA2 genes. The significance of this is that my HOBC (Hereditary Ovarian and Breast Cancer) risk is "significantly reduced," though not as low, probably, as that of the general population. Which means I can keep my ovaries and don't have to rush to have a family! YAY! It also means that I won't pass on any genetic mutations to my children, which is a relief, given I am able to have any. The nurse did tell me that if I were to have daughters, they'd need to have mammograms in their early twenties. Usually they say daughters of younger breast cancer patients should start getting mammograms about 10 years before the mother's diagnosis, but in my situation that would mean at the age of 15, which is pretty ridiculous. I hardly had anything on my chest at the age. Actually, I hardly have anything on my chest now, which is part of why I find my breast cancer unfair. I mean, I didn't even get to take advantage of the damned things, and now one is sick! There's still a chance that I do have a genetic mutation that scientists are currently unaware of, however, and I think that chance is around 16%. Anyway, if my result were positive, I would probably have to have a mastectomy. So I'm glad it wasn't positive, although I'm keeping in mind that I may still have to have a mastectomy. I can't get my hopes up too high because then it makes it so difficult to get bad news.

I really thought my test was going to come back positive. I am so glad and thankful that it didn't! Thank you God! What a relief. Seriously. But then, I'm left with the question "Why did this happen?" But that doesn't bother me too much because it's kind of a dumb question. The answer wouldn't really change the situation, so there's no point in dwelling on the "Why Factor." Although I suppose it would give a certain satisfaction to know why. Anyway, a negative result is most useful when someone else in the family has had the test performed. Given that I know absolutely zippo about my biological family, I can't benefit from that information. I'm sort of wondering if I should try to start tracking down any biological family I can just in order to learn more about my family health history, especially any occurrences of cancers. But that sounds like such an arduous task, and it honestly entails quite a few other issues, ranging from how my parents will handle it to how I'll handle it. I mean, I don't think much about that part of my life, but if I were to start finding information on my biological family, I may as well get all my questions answered. But am I ready for that? Nah. But would knowing a family health history be helpful? Probably.

Fuzzy Head

The Head Shaving Party went really well. I had a glass of wine, which I probably shouldn't have. I think it made me a little more emotional than I would have been otherwise. I got a little teared up when I first started cutting, and then I flat-out cried when I saw my fuzzy head. My sister insisted that I cut her beautiful and long ponytail off so she could shave her head too. I told her she shouldn't because she was about to start student teaching and high school is brutal enough as is. But she put her foot down, saying that she feels like I'm all alone and I shouldn't have to be, and that this is the one thing she can do with me so I wouldn't be so alone. I really wasn't feeling all that alone, but my friends told me that it'd make her feel better, so we went for it! So now we're two Korean girl baldies! And phew, we both have nicely shaped heads.

In the end, I'm so grateful that she did it. I don't feel like such a freak when we're out together, though I'm a little self-conscious when I'm out with other people or alone. Susan loves her fuzzy head because it's so much easier to take care of (that aspect is aaaawwwwesome). She thinks it's unfair that women have so much hair maintenance to do, while men can just shave their heads and no one bats an eye. She says she feels liberated! I don't like mine much though; I miss my loooong hair. Every morning at first I was surprised to see my fuzzy head in the mirror. I'll get used to it, but then my fuzzies will probably fall out, and I'll have to get used to that. But so far none of my hair has been falling out. It should be anytime now. In a way I hope it starts to fall out so I can get used to the actual baldness thing, and so that I know I didn't shave my head for nothing! My sister's boyfriend said I look better with a shaved head than I did with hair (mixed feelings about that one...) and my ex-boyfriend (he came for a visit too, and took me to chemo this week) said I look hot without hair. Hmmm.

I will get the video and photos of the party up soon, I promise! I'm being such a slacker! The video needs to be edited and I don't know how to do that, but my sister does, so we'll do to it. Sorry!

Etc.

I'm still really wanting to go to Las Vegas for Labor Day to see the Peacemakers. I'm totally obsessed, and this has been my big RCPM year. But it's only 10 days away, and my sister seems to think it might not be as fun as usual because I'm not exactly in the same position as usual. Definitely not drinking as many Mexican beers or tequila shots as usual, which would be too bad because a good Peacemakers show really lends itself to beers and tequila! I'd just want to rest and relax by the pool, eat some good food, and see the show. A two-day, one-night trip. But I don't want to do anything that will get me sick, so I'm hesitant. Plus I have no tickets or reservations, so I'd have to get all that done like... right now. But I do think planning some stuff like small trips and visits from friends, etc., will help the time fly by. Giving myself things to look forward to and do will make time move a little faster, and I can think of things as "in two treatments, I get to...". So I think I'll work on planning some fun little things.

So three Taxol treatments down, meaning I'm 25% done with Taxol. And a little more than 2 weeks down, meaning I'm a little more than 10% done with treatment. And 3 chemo treatments down, meaning I'm done with 3/16 actual treatments, which is some sort of percentage but I don't feel like doing the calculation. So we're making progress! And next week, I get to meet with my oncologist. She'll hopefully do some measurements and tell me how she thinks I'm doing, which will be more helpful than the nurse's measurements because the oncologist felt the original tumors and the nurse didn't.

Anyway, this was long, so anyone still with me is a saint. I really appreciate any and all people and friends who are taking the time to read this nonsense! And if you know someone whom you think would care (especially in Winter Park, because I left in such a hurry), please pass on my blog address! The name is easy to remember cuz I really do hate cancer!

The Vanity Issue

2008-08-15T16:42:00.003-06:00

Today is Head Shaving Party day, so I wanted to talk about "the vanity issue" before my head gets fuzzy. I plan on using clippers to shave my hair down to about an inch long, so it's fuzzy but not tooooooo short. I hope it's at least sort of cute, but the sad truth is that it's going to be falling out in a few days. And then I'll be actually bald, which, after observation at the chemo place, is not cute.

Up to this point, I was able to think about the way I look in general terms. I've never had to really consider how my concept of how I look impacts my concept of who I am and how I feel. But along with breast cancer come a lot of worries concerning one's physical appearance. For one, either surgical option (mastectomy or lumpectomy) will leave me with scars at the very least. I feel like I should be concerned about the actual surgery, but all that I can think about is the result of the reconstruction. How will it look? What if I don't like it? How are people, namely men, going to respond to the whole reconstruction thing? How are they going to feel? How long will I have scars? And if somehow the stars align and I get to keep my breasts, what are my scars going to look like from the lumpectomy? I'll have to have radiation, and that causes darkening of the skin. Is that going to be really ugly too?

If my lymph nodes end up with cancer and have to be removed, there's the chance I'll get lymphedema in my right arm. That causes the arm to swell to varying degrees. So that could be ugly.

Then there's the ugliness during treatment. The hair loss thing really sucks because it makes a normal-looking person suddenly a very sick-looking person. I feel like today is the last day of having a "secret." It's not that I'm ashamed to have cancer or that I'm hiding it, it's just that it's a personal thing and I wish the whole world didn't have to know. But once my hair is gone, the whole world will probably know. And I wonder if I'm going to be treated differently as a result. I used to have really nice hair, and I don't feel like an egotistical asshole in saying so. And I will probably be 30 by the time my hair grows back long again. And who knows what my hair will grow back like. I pray to God it comes in straight-- I've always wanted straight hair. But what if it turns out curly?

In addition to the bald thing, I learned that a lot of people gain weight from chemotherapy treatment because they're eating more and physically doing significantly less. So you end up chubby and bald. Not a great combination for a 25-year-old woman.

Am I being shallow or selfish in thinking that this is a much bigger deal because I'm young? Of course older women care about how they look. I know that. Maybe it's that they've had longer to be young and attractive and I feel like I'm losing out when I should be in my prime. Maybe it's because they've had longer to find their dream man while their bodies were normal and I might have to try to do that after becoming a deformed monster.

I've come to realize that I care a lot about how I look. There's no use in denying it or lying about it; I feel better about myself when I feel I look good. I've pretty much always been obsessed with wanting to look good. There was a time when I thought it wouldn't be crazy to get my boobs done. Now that seems like the silliest thing in the world. How I feel about the way I look greatly influences what I think of myself. It's easy to say, "Oh, I don't care about how I look because looks aren't what matter." It's hard to admit to yourself that "I care a lot about how I look, and my self-esteem is based greatly on my outward appearance." It makes me sound so vain and shallow, but in the end, it's the truth in my case. And the more honest I can be with myself, the more honest I can be with my surgeons. They need to know that my attitude is hinging on coming out of surgery looking better than OK.

I can't imagine living the rest of my life hating the way I look. But I know if I come out of this feeling like I look ugly, it will change everything. And it's not something that other people can help with; if I think I look ugly, then no number of friends telling me I'm still beautiful will help. It's about self-image. Maybe that's the hard part. And I know that the really important part is to make it out of this alive, and I do take that part seriously. But I did want to share how I feel about the rest of it, and that the whole breast cancer experience, especially at my age, isn't only about surviving. It's about my confidence surviving.

Before all this happened, I had so many gripes about how I looked. Now I look back and think, "Carrie, you were as perfect as you could be, why didn't you just soak it up while you had it?" Things are definitely going to change, and I have to accept that. I just keep thinking how lucky everyone else is to be healthy and not have to go through this, and not how "unlucky" I am. I hope you folks out there can take a second to really appreciate yourself for the perfection you already have. I wish I had appreciated being "normal" before.

I hope you guys don't think I'm a shallow and completely hollow person. I know that I have a lot more to offer than how I look, and I'm not that hot to begin with anyway. I'm just offering you a candid look at something I think about... maybe a little too often.

In a way, I can feel lucky to have been forced to look at myself so honestly and carefully. And most women will never face the challenge of trying to find themselves beautiful after they've been stripped of about everything womanly about them. If I can make it through this experience relatively unscathed, I will probably so confident and self-assured that no one will be able to handle me...!

Hopefully by tomorrow I'll have some pictures and video of the party tonight. See you then, and wish me luck...!

Chemo 2

2008-08-12T22:28:00.004-06:00

Hey everybody! I had my second treatment today, yay! I was a little nervous about it yesterday for whatever reason, mostly not wanting to go and being a little worried about having to go to the hospital again. But my goal is not to have to go back there this week and to have an easy week.

The chemo went pretty well today. I had to have the same amount of Benadryl again, which was too bad, but there's a chance for an adverse reaction the first two times patients receive chemotherapy, and for that reason it's good to have a solid amount of Benadryl. Maybe next time it'll be less. It just makes me so sleepy! I slept through most of it and then slept another three hours at home. I freaked out in the middle because I felt some sharp pains at the site where the needle was stuck in, and I thought my bandage was filling with blood. In the end, it was just my weird surgical glue and bruise. Whoops. I wish that damn glue would come off because it itches, and I wonder what's going on under there. I think it's time my skin starts breathing!

I don't know if I told you guys, but this is pretty exciting. I can already feel my tumors shrinking! Even just a few days after the first treatment I could feel that they're smaller and not as dense.

I had a follow-up appointment with my nurse today before chemo, and she told me that my genetic test might be in by next week, which I already knew. I really hope that I'm negative for any genetic mutations, but I guess it's safer for my mental well-being to prepare myself for bad news. I kinda have a bad feeling it's going to be positive anyway. She also told me that the next time we'll do any imaging (like MRI, PET Scan, ultrasound, etc...) will be when I'm done with Taxol in about 2.5 months. That's a long time. She also reminded me that my hair was going to start changing after this week, which of course has been on my mind already. And unfortunately, she told me that a lot of people gain weight during treatment because they eat more and physically do less. I'm scared to be chubby and bald! How vain, but seriously, you have to be sick, fat, bald, and potentially breastless and scarred? That's sorta crap.

There was another thing the nurse told me that I found interesting. I told her that the medicine made me really thirsty and I was drinking water and peeing all the time. She told me that's because the chemo kills a bunch of cells, so I have a bunch of dead cells and waste running through my body. My body gets thirsty to flush all that junk out, and when I'm peeing, I'm peeing out all my dead cancer! Ew, but cool! So she said to keep peeing and pooping that stuff out. Wahoo, will do (can't really help it not to...)!

I have a treat this week, an out-of-state visitor! One of my best friends is coming for a visit, all the way from San Francisco. Wahoo! That'll be fun. And in her honor, I'm having my head shaving party on Friday. All are welcome to attend, but I know my Winter Parkers are gearing up for a big weekend of bikers. Good luck guys... "lose" the jerks' tickets and add secret gratuity! HAHAHA just kidding! Anyway, I plan on having someone take some video footage so you can all be in on the party and see whether I do indeed have a nicely shaped head (I'm thinking no... but whatever). I'll probably look like this. Hehehe. Be on the lookout for my video later this week!

ALSO: I put up a new post on July 25. It covers my meeting with the oncologist, and there will be three more after that to follow, when I get the time...

New TV = Fun! Emergency Room = Not Fun!

2008-08-07T16:46:00.012-06:00

So yesterday was a pretty exciting day for two reasons: I got a sweet new TV and I had to go to the emergency room at the hospital (as you may be intuited from the title of this post).

I started the day out sorta badly; I woke up grumpy because I had all these problems rotating my bed the night before. See, I knew I wanted to get a new TV, and with the way my bed was facing, there wasn't a place to watch a TV. So I had to move my bed 90 degrees counterclockwise, which wasn't that easy. Then Susan came to help me, which made it easier, but after she left I discovered that the frame was broken. My arm was still a little sore from my port placement, but it wasn't that bad. I was tired though, and moving the mattress and box springs and then fixing the frame alone was exhausting for me.

So when I woke up the next day, I was really tired and not feeling that great because I hadn't slept that well. I thought about skipping breakfast with my parents, but it's sorta a tradition in these parts, so I still went. I thought I was just having a regular bad morning...

After breakfast, Mom and Dad told me we could go TV shopping. My parents feel so terribly awful that I have to go through this, which is sweet of them, but clearly it's not their fault. Anyhow, that makes them want to take extra-special care of me, so they wanted to get me a TV to watch when the chemo treatments make me feel like hiding out in my room. I was just thinking of a little old school $100 thing and a cheapo DVD player, but they wanted to get something really nice.

"Got a flat-screen TV, 32-inches wide, I believe yours says Etch-a-Sketch on the side!" Thanks Weird Al, and pardon my liberties to suit my cause...

So yeah, they got me this really sweet 32-inch LCD flat-screen hi-def TV and a nice DVD player. Here's a picture of it, with my sister's head to show you how big it looks (the TV, not her head).

I love my sweet new TV, and I think it'll make my harder days go by a little more easily. Thanks Mom and Dad for such a generous gift! I really appreciate it! I've watched a couple movies and they look awesome! I like the picture above because it looks like Crush the Turtle is talking to Susan...

Anyway, after Mom and Dad set up my TV, they left. I was starting to feel really tired and sorta sick, like I had the flu. I watched Mean Girls, and when that was over, I was really flu-ish. I tried to take a nap, but I couldn't sleep because my body had aches and pains (apparently referred to as "myalgia" in the medical world) and I was experiencing some pretty strong chills. My oncologist's office gave me an hour-long educational course on the side effects of Taxol, and one of the things they really stressed was to watch out for any sort of infection, a good sign of which is a fever. I was to call if I had a fever above 100.5.

Since I forgot to pick up one of those nice digital thermometers, I called my dad to bring me one. He came with it after work, around 5:00. I took my temperature, and got 101 and 100.8. I called Dr. M.'s office (my oncologist) to let them know what was going on, and I talked to a nurse. Naturally, they were headed out the door, but the nurse took her time asking me all my symptoms and told me she'd call me back after she called the doctor. The doctor said I should go to the emergency room just to make sure everything's OK, and they were going to send over my file and some information.

I cried a little just because I didn't want to have to go to the emergency room, and because I didn't feel good, and because I was really hoping I would just sail through chemo. When stuff like that happens, I get upset because I really don't like that this is what my life has become, but I know I don't have any choices here, so I just have to go through it. It's just hard sometimes. But mostly I do OK.

Anyway, I was glad I'd had my dad stick around because he took me to the hospital. They got me all checked in and into a bed, and took a lot of blood for blood cultures. That's easy to do because I have my chemo port, which is a 2-way street-- they can put stuff in or take blood out. They do have to put a needle in my arm, but it's not that bad. I had an x-ray, and then later a CT scan to make sure I didn't have any pneumonia or blood clots in my chest or lungs, which meant this guy had to put an IV with a big tube in my arm. It had to be on the other arm because they needed to draw blood from two sites for my blood cultures. And the tube had to be big because they put contrast in me to see the image better. That IV hurt because the tube was bigger, and the two male nurses were trying to get me to relax so my vein wouldn't spasm and collapse. They told me to go to my happy place, which was on top of Mary Jane, looking down Drunken Frenchman.

Nurse: "Are you in the gondola, getting to the top?"
Carrie: "No, I'm at the top, ready to rip down!"

It was nice to think of skiing. Man, I wish I could do that today. Or tomorrow. Or even this season... we'll see...

The weird thing was when they put the contrast in my vein for the CT scan. They told me I would feel flushed and like I really had to pee. This is mostly true. I did feel flushed, but when it went in, I felt like I WAS PEEING! So naturally it was hard to hold still when I felt like I was uncontrollably wetting my pants. When it was over, I would have sworn I peed my pants, but I didn't. What an odd sensation.

Five hours later, they couldn't find anything wrong with me and told us we could go home. FINALLY! While we were getting ready to go, the nurse asked me what I do for a living. I said, "I fight cancer." I thought that was a pretty good answer, though I clarified that I used to be a waitress and am now unemployed. My dad asked me if I didn't like to say I'm unemployed, but I don't care at all. Some of my favorite times of the year are when I'm not working, out traveling and living the life of a lady of leisure.

I decided to stay at my parents' house in case anything went wrong. But nothing did and I feel well today.A little tired, but I took a nap and am trying to focus more on eating right and drinking tons of water. Hope you all have been having better days than I!

What a day!

Post Chemo Update

2008-08-04T23:42:00.002-06:00

So my chemo appointment went really well. I wanted to tell you about everything that happened, but first, just know that I'm feeling pretty good today.

When I got there, the nurse called me back to the "chemo room" after a sorta long wait, considering we were a little late already (damn trains). When I got back there, there wasn't a private room free, but Nurse A. (very very nice lady!) said one would free up soon. Other than 5 private rooms, there's one big room full of giant squishy leather La-Z Boy-style chairs, separated into three groupings of about 4 chairs. I wanted a private room not for the privacy, but because Mom, Dad and Susan all came. Anyway, for some setting, I was the youngest person there by about 40 years or something! I was kinda hoping there'd be someone else around me age, just for the comfort factor. But no, it was all gray-hairs. Well, pretty much no-hairs, but what was there was gray. Ha!

So a private room freed up, but before Nurse A. got back, a super old dude and his wife nabbed it. Whatever, I'm not stealing grampa's chemo room. So I chose a chair towards the back to get started so Mom and Susan wouldn't have to see me get stuck by the needle and feel some pain. I was a little anxious because my chemo port is still pretty bruised, but Nurse A. moved quickly. Though it did hurt, it was very brief.

To start, she pushed some saline into my port to make sure it was clear of an obstructions and in functioning mode. Then she took three vials of blood to test my cells and make sure I was clear and ready for chemo. She said I was in great shape for it, since it was my first time.

Then came the icky part, and it's probably not what you think. She gave me a bunch of benadryl through my port, to help ward off allergic reactions. It went in fast and strong, and I felt super duper weird. It was like getting an extra strong dose of extra strong cold medicine, and I got really woozy, groggy and drowsy. It was hard for me to move, open my eyes, speak, do anything, really. And that makes sense because that's pretty much what cold medicine does, and that's sorta what benadryl is. My mouth got dry and I felt weird for the entire process (4 hours, nearly!) and a couple hours after.

Then I got two bags of anti-nausea medicine. Those were fine.

Then the big show, which was a bag of Taxol, my first chemo drug. That went in fine, no bad reactions or anything. And because of the benadryl, I pretty much slept through the whole thing. Talk about boring. So if anyone wants to come to a chemo treatment, just know that I'll probably sleep and you'll probably read or something. Not exciting, but I'm sooo happy I started.

Afterwards I got a shot of blood thinner stuff so platelets wouldn't stick to my catheter attached to my chemo port. Nurse A. took out the needle and the sticker that was holding it in. That hurt a lot because it tore off a little of my surgical glue and my skin is REALLY tender still from my port placement surgery. She gave me some Tylenol (she's an angel) and then I was free to go!

Susan had to drive me to Walgreens to pick up some anti-nausea medicines, which I didn't end up needing today, and embarassing OTC medications for... digestive tract issues. Hopefully those will be unnecessary if I can eat right, at least that's what I'm hoping for. I'm starting to feel a little sickish now, but I think that's because I ate a lot of candy and snacks today. Didn't affect my appetite! I took a nap when I got home, but then started moving around and working on my lovely blog.

I'm anxious to see how Taxol affects me. This first week shouldn't be so bad, but I think the side effects start to pile on top of each other. Only 20 weeks to go! And in 14-ish days, I should be a baldy! :(

All in all though, not an entirely bad day!

Chemo! Finally!

2008-08-04T09:48:00.000-06:00

I received three phone calls before breakfast today. The first was a nurse with my insurance company, and she told me the happy news that my chemo treatment has been approved and authorized.

My oncologist called and told me that, yes, my treatment has been authorized and I would receive another call later today about scheduling it for today. She also told me that my PET scan didn't show any surprises, really; there was no sign of cancer in my lungs, liver, or bones, which is really good and indicates the cancer has not spread. PHEW! However, there is one "suspicious" looking lymph node, which is too bad, but we're keeping an eye on it, I guess. I really hope my lymph nodes can be fine because I don't want them to be removed. If they are, there's a chance I'll have to deal with lymphedema, which is sucky.

Then a nurse called, and my first chemo session is scheduled for 11:30. I'm excited to be getting started and finally start kicking some cancer ass, but I'm a little scared for the side affects. I guess in about 14 days I'll be bald! Yipes!

Anyway, more updates to come, and certainly a lot of backtracking because a lot has happened. It's just hard to find time to sit and type because I'm working on moving, and my brother visited, and all sorta of other stuff.

Anyway, send me those warm thoughts and positive vibrations around 11:30 MST!

Feeling "Normal," Even If I'm Not

2008-08-02T18:10:00.001-06:00

Today was a good day because I was able to do two things that I hadn't been able to do. I washed my hair with both hands, which I couldn't do before because my arm was so sore from my port placement surgery. I also was able to put my hair back in a ponytail all by myself! That saves Sooz from having to do it for me. I'm pleased with my progress.

I met my parents and brother for breakfast and ran into some random acquaintances. I did something with my arms that made my port surgery grossness very noticeable, which was sorta awkward because these people hardly know me and don't know about the whole cancer thing. My left arm looks like this:

I sorta slipped it in that the wounds were from a port placement to get chemo because I have cancer. I don't think they really heard or understood, which is probably for the best.

I worked on moving more stuff into my room and getting settle for this long haul. Wahoo.

Later in the evening, Sooz and I went over to David and Cristi's house for a BBQ. We won at TriBond, which is to be expected (ha) and had a very nice dinner. The hosts gave me the gift of Netflix, which should be really nice in the coming months of fatigue from treatment. What a thoughtful and useful gift! Thanks to them!

I had a good day today because I felt normal. You know, that's the strange thing about this whole disease-- I feel fine most of the time, but I know I'm not fine. I have a serious illness, but life is pretty much the same, minus the daily office visits, the increase in needle sticks, and the two tumors hanging out in my right breast. With cancer, you have to feel icky to get better, which is a really strange concept to me. You have to get sick to get unsick.

Still wondering what will happen with insurance and chemo. I just want to get this all over with and in the past... 20 weeks of chemo treatment is 5 months; I just need to find another way of thinking about that because 5 months is a long freakin' time...

The Long Day: PET Scan and Port Placement Surgery

2008-08-01T19:33:00.001-06:00

Today was the longest day of cancer crap so far. UGH.

So one of the things that sucked about today actually started the night before. For both of my appointments, I had to fast. No food or water. So after 4:30 a.m. this morning, I couldn't have anything to eat or drink.

I had to be at my PET Scan at 8:15. You may be wondering, "What is a PET Scan?" That's a great question. Click here because I feel too lazy to explain!

After paperwork and paying $965 (which is after insurance!), I went back with a technician dude who gave me an IV. They put radioactive glucose in your veins so they can see what's going on better. The guy missed my vein in my arm, which was weird because I've heard I have great veins, and had to put it in my hand. Oh well. After that, I was to sit in a nice chair and be as still as possible. The cancer cells are supposed to eat the radioactive glucose to show where metabolic activity is going on, so you're not supposed to move so you don't create any extra metabolic activity (I think...). So I got those nice heated blankets ( I LOVE THOSE!) and leaned back for an hour.

Then they came to get me. The machine is another big donut tube thing. They got me situated on my back and told me to hold still. The tech asked if I wanted updates on the time, and I said it would be nice to know when we were half done and 3/4 done. I closed my eyes for it, even though I wasn't sure if I had to or not. I was tired! And hungry! Anyway, the bed I was on moved in and out of the tube, and that, along with the hunger factor, made me pretty motion sick. It only took about 30 minutes or so, and when I was done, they had a little gift bag for me with a book of quotations, snacks, and little bottle of water. Which I couldn't have until AFTER my port placement. ARRR!

The PET Scan finished on time, which was great. We had plenty of time to get to Denver for my port placement. I had to call to pre-register on the way down, which proved more difficult than originally assessed because my cell phone kept cutting in and out of service. Once that was done, though, I was able to just waltz through the hospital (Rose Medical) straight back to radiology.

We made it on time, which was a big relief. But in the end, it wasn't that big of a deal because the surgeon was like an hour and a half late. When I got there, they set me up with an IV. They dripped some saline in for a while, and then when it was closer to time for my surgery they but in a bag of antibiotics. I had to wait in a little bed for what seemed like forever, but I suppose it was probably only two hours or something.

The surgeon finally showed up and explained a little about the procedure. He showed me what the port looks like, and here's a photo for you folks at home. I was going to be given a combination of a narcotic (wheeee!) and a pain killer, which would make me nice and loopy but not unconscious. Some people sleep, and some don't. I was sorta in the middle.

So they wheeled me off in my little bed down to the surgical room. It was a weird little room with a big X-ray machine. I had to switch from my nice warm bed to a cold, hard bed. They started to get me ready by putting on a funny papery hat on me, a mask and oxygen tubes up my nose. I also had a heart rate monitor and a blood pressure squeezer on me. On my left arm, where the port was to be placed, they cleaned the area with some blue stuff and put drapes all over me.

When the doctor got there, they gave me drugs. I kinda remember them asking me how I was doing, and I said something like, "I'm fine, but the ceiling is doing something really weird." It was moving and melting and sliding around. Maybe I should do drugs more often... Anyway, the doctor had to anesthetize the area with lidocaine, which meant more needle injections in my skin. But after that, I couldn't feel too much. I think I slept for a bit, but I woke up before they were done and asked some questions. The doctors sorta ignored me and sorta answered, which was annoying. It hurt when they were pushing in the port (at least I think that was what they were doing). And I could feel him putting in the stitches; not pain, just the feeling of the thread going through my skin.

I'm now realizing that there was a chunk of this surgery that I don't remember at all... darn drugs... so maybe click here to learn more about ports.

When they were done, I had to switch back to my bed with the wheels so they could wheel me back. I have no idea why, I think it was probably the medicine, but I started crying and couldn't stop. I was shaking really hard and felt weak, woozy and cold. And the tears just kept coming. The nurse was a little alarmed, but I told her I was OK and I didn't know why I was crying. She thought maybe it was the sight of my arm, which admittedly was a bit disturbing because it was all scary looking. Anyway, I was glad that my parents had gone for a cruise around the hospital so they wouldn't see me upset. Not that they'd mind or anything, it's just that I wasn't upset, I was just somehow acting upset. WEIRD.

When I got settled in, I asked for something to eat because I was starving. It was probably 3:30 or something and I hadn't eaten since dinner the night before due to all the fasting. I got a little cup of peaches and some cranberry juice. It was delicious. I told the nurse that my arm really hurt because it did, and she said maybe I could have some percocet. I thought that sounded great. So she told the doctor, but he said no, just Tylenol. Booo. He came over and I told him it hurt. He said I bled more than usual during the surgery. Whatever. He said to try to move my arm around, and I did so weakly BECAUSE IT HURT. And he said to move it around more, showing me by bending his arm all the way up and down. I tried, but got maybe halfway and it really hurt. I started to really dislike this guy because I told him my arm hurt and he told me to do something that made it hurt more. How hard would it have been to just give me a little extra pain killer? Anyway, he said Tylenol would be OK, but nobody gave me any at the hospital before I left.

After a bit, the nurse was wondering where my parents were, and I reminded her that they were waiting out in the other waiting room and that she had said she'd tell them when I got back. She remembered and went to get them. They seemed happy to see me and didn't know I had already been there for about half an hour. I showed them my nasty arm.

The nurse gave me some discharge and aftercare information. We got me all put back together and got the hell out of dodge.

The car ride home was kinda rotten because my arm was aching and my dad kept talking and talking and talking. I was grumpy because it had been a long day and I don't deal especially well with pain. I snapped at him, and I think I hurt his feelings, which I apologized for, but all I wanted to do was sleep in the car so I wouldn't have to feel my arm hurting.

When we got back, I took a nap and woke up feeling better. Since my brother was there, we all went out for dinner, and that was nice. I just made sure everyone knew that I couldn't have one of those 2-hour dinners because I wasn't up to it. But dinner was good.

Since I'm writing this way after it happened, I should note that my arm was really sore for about three days-- I couldn't put my own hair back or wash my hair with both hands for that long. But after three days I was able to use my arm a lot more. The surgical glue stayed on for a long time... there's still a little stuck on and it's been two weeks. And the bruising is still there too, but that should fade someday soon...

What a day. Glad it's in the past. But now I have my port and I'm ready to chemo!

EKG

2008-08-01T18:51:00.000-06:00

Today's big cancer-related appointment was an EKG. An EKG is essentially an ultrasound of the heart, so there's no pain or needles or anything, just some cold gel. It hurt me a little, just because my arm was still pretty sore from my port placement, but nothing to write home about. The technician took pictures with her little machine and measured some things, and when the machine played the sounds of my heart beating, it sounded like plunging the toilet. It only took a few minutes and I was out of there to start living my life!

I went to see Hancock with my bro and mom. OK movie but not great. Lately (as in maybe the last year or so) I can't watch violent movies or movies where the camera moves around too much. It gives me motion sickness. It's weird, but I get a strong urge to vomit at these types of movies (such as The Bourne Ultimatum... ugh).

I tried to call my insurance company because I got a message saying that they had not authorized my chemo treatment. The woman at my oncologist's office assured me that it would get worked out on Monday, as my doctor was on vacation and would fix everything when she got back. I was a little annoyed because my chemo appointment was for 9:00 on Monday, and I really wanted to get started. But I'm not really worried that it won't go through; it just seems to be some sort of miscommunication, or at least that's what the insurance coordinator on the phone led me to believe.

I went over to my parents' house to have some sandwiches and hang out with my brother. It was a nice night together.