I am tired and out of it today. Sort of blah, although I slept well. Lots of little annoying tasks to do, no mood for much of any of it. This is the intersection of tiredness and coming off the pred.
Side effects good, however. Time for a nap I think, a little music, crochet.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
On being a Lady of leisure
I realize how very lucky I am, in some ways. Sure it sucks to have breast cancer and to undergo tests, surgery, chemo and rads, plus whatever else is coming down the pike.
On the other hand, this gives me a chance to think and rest and to read, to learn. So that is lucky. I don't work, I have a leave of absence for my PhD and I have no fixed plans, other than to get well.
Of course I suspect i will become bored at times and no doubt the various meds will wreck havoc with my brain... This week of predndisone, for example has fogged my head and made me a little distracted, more than a little distracted. Although today is far better than yesterday.
And since this is my first cycle of chemo, I am waiting for the first big things to happen here. Change of taste, tiredness and hair loss. I am really tired... And i don't have a great appetite, but i still have my hair. Till next week.
But i am organizing myself here and arranging myself so that I have amusing things to do, and visitors to look forward to.
And M, of course has been wonderful. Nothing quite like the love and care of a good man.
So yeah this sucks. And yet.... I am determined to make the best of it. And to live in the moment as much as possible..because what else can we be sure of?
On the other hand, this gives me a chance to think and rest and to read, to learn. So that is lucky. I don't work, I have a leave of absence for my PhD and I have no fixed plans, other than to get well.
Of course I suspect i will become bored at times and no doubt the various meds will wreck havoc with my brain... This week of predndisone, for example has fogged my head and made me a little distracted, more than a little distracted. Although today is far better than yesterday.
And since this is my first cycle of chemo, I am waiting for the first big things to happen here. Change of taste, tiredness and hair loss. I am really tired... And i don't have a great appetite, but i still have my hair. Till next week.
But i am organizing myself here and arranging myself so that I have amusing things to do, and visitors to look forward to.
And M, of course has been wonderful. Nothing quite like the love and care of a good man.
So yeah this sucks. And yet.... I am determined to make the best of it. And to live in the moment as much as possible..because what else can we be sure of?
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/25/opinion/25sloan.html?_r=1&src=tptw
Interesting article in the NY Times. Not sure how I feel about it. I do think that the development of disease has much to do with genetics and environment, so that we can't quite protect ourselves from everything.
But as I continue to manage breast cancer (see, I don't even like to fight my own body), I can't help but think that an optimistic attitude helps with compliance and better self care. Exercise and laughter leads to endorphins and stress reduction and breathing leads to reduction in cortisol.
I may be a little fuzzy headed today since I 'm on day 3 of prednisone head. And I 'm tired. I know I don't have ultimate control of the myriad of body processes, but how I think and feel helps me manage my disease outcome. Which might not be so different from what the author above is saying, or perhaps has left out of a short op Ed piece.
Interesting article in the NY Times. Not sure how I feel about it. I do think that the development of disease has much to do with genetics and environment, so that we can't quite protect ourselves from everything.
But as I continue to manage breast cancer (see, I don't even like to fight my own body), I can't help but think that an optimistic attitude helps with compliance and better self care. Exercise and laughter leads to endorphins and stress reduction and breathing leads to reduction in cortisol.
I may be a little fuzzy headed today since I 'm on day 3 of prednisone head. And I 'm tired. I know I don't have ultimate control of the myriad of body processes, but how I think and feel helps me manage my disease outcome. Which might not be so different from what the author above is saying, or perhaps has left out of a short op Ed piece.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
First day after chemo
Last night I felt a little buzzed. Anticipatory anxiety, and prednisone. Slept so so, needed a little help.
This morning I feel fine. Energetic, although I am taking it easy, no buzz and no nausea. Took all my meds and they seem to sit well. So I feel pretty good about the whole process.
The chemo cycle is sort of like this - I'm on a 3 week cycle.
First day, first few days: Infusion - nausea and possible reactions. You are given meds that kill off fast growing cell (like cancer cells), and steroids to combat reactions to such toxins and anti nausea/vomiting drugs for the first few days.
As the week progresses and into the 2nd, third week: Wait for the stuff to work - fast growing cells die off, so your blood counts drop, mouth linings shed, and of course hair stops growing and falls. Tired, maybe depressed and achy. hopefully killing off any nasty cancer cells, too but this is when you are most susceptible to infection.
During the third week you are no doubt feeling better, just in time for the next chemo!
So we will see how I fit this profile. One small benefit- the steroids are making my arthritic knee feel better.
This morning I feel fine. Energetic, although I am taking it easy, no buzz and no nausea. Took all my meds and they seem to sit well. So I feel pretty good about the whole process.
The chemo cycle is sort of like this - I'm on a 3 week cycle.
First day, first few days: Infusion - nausea and possible reactions. You are given meds that kill off fast growing cell (like cancer cells), and steroids to combat reactions to such toxins and anti nausea/vomiting drugs for the first few days.
As the week progresses and into the 2nd, third week: Wait for the stuff to work - fast growing cells die off, so your blood counts drop, mouth linings shed, and of course hair stops growing and falls. Tired, maybe depressed and achy. hopefully killing off any nasty cancer cells, too but this is when you are most susceptible to infection.
During the third week you are no doubt feeling better, just in time for the next chemo!
So we will see how I fit this profile. One small benefit- the steroids are making my arthritic knee feel better.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Amusing post to end the day.....
I feel pretty good. But I'm going to sleep - been a long day. And I just have to add this small piece of silliness
Just want to post this so we can all thank Oprah for our large cupped bras and tights and stockings that don't fall down in the crotch and make us cranky....Proliferating like a virus or something?????
I'm as grateful to Oprah as anyone I suppose... actually, I don't watch much Oprah, and I once tried her favorite bra and it gave me indigestion. Who on earth ever thought of lingerie as proliferating like a virus? Simply more available would be good enough. I posted this on FB too, so sorry if it's redundant.....
But Jeez....if the lingerie was in size 0, it would never proliferate, methinks.
Think on that, my friends.......
Just want to post this so we can all thank Oprah for our large cupped bras and tights and stockings that don't fall down in the crotch and make us cranky....Proliferating like a virus or something?????
I'm as grateful to Oprah as anyone I suppose... actually, I don't watch much Oprah, and I once tried her favorite bra and it gave me indigestion. Who on earth ever thought of lingerie as proliferating like a virus? Simply more available would be good enough. I posted this on FB too, so sorry if it's redundant.....
But Jeez....if the lingerie was in size 0, it would never proliferate, methinks.
Think on that, my friends.......
One of those Twilight Zone like things....
I don't consider myself to be religious. I don't know what I believe in, although I do believe that spiritual connections exist.
The start of my own breast cancer experience is bracketed by my mother's death from breast cancer 20 years ago. Exactly 20 years ago.
I had a mammogram and ultrasound Dec 20. The radiologist looked at the lump and said - Fibroadenoma, probably benign, but to be sure we can biopsy. Or follow. I said, biopsy. Good thing I did. The next day, Marco and I found out that it was not benign, but rather poorly differentiated and thus malignant. This was Dec 21, and it was the day 20 years ago that we brought my mother home from the hospital, to die.
Someday I will write more about my mother's experience. For now - she continued on a steady decline and died on January 14, 1991. My sister, two aunts, hospice nurse and myself were all there. My father had just left for work. It was a bit past 10AM in the morning, a mild, sunny day. It was peaceful. As sad as it was, and while a part of me will always feel it was unfair that she died so young, there was something about it that seemed so natural.
On January 14, 2011, Marco and I were driving back from meeting my oncologist. He was very optimistic, I had a good prognosis, my scans were clear. We felt more hopeful than any time before Dec 21, when we first learned that the lump was cancer. At one point, we were driving down the A6, south of Bern, looking at the Alps - you can see the Jungfrau, Eiger, Moench if it's clear enough. It was a gorgeous afternoon. It's a spectacular view, if you've not seen it. The Alps here really remind me of quiet, grave, learned men and women, watching over us.
And at this one point, I just had this feeling - tingle, puff of air, whatever, and somehow my mother and I let go of each other. Not that we don't care for and watch out for each other, but rather, our paths won't be the same.
And when I checked the time it was a little after 4PM, Central European Time, 6 hours later than Eastern Standard Time - 10 AM in Pittsburgh.Maybe it's an angel, maybe the hand of some god, or maybe my subconscious rationalizing new information.
Whatever it was, it was a profound moment for me. The part of me that always has to make a joke wants to queue Twilight Zone music.....because it feels a little squirrly to be profound.
The start of my own breast cancer experience is bracketed by my mother's death from breast cancer 20 years ago. Exactly 20 years ago.
I had a mammogram and ultrasound Dec 20. The radiologist looked at the lump and said - Fibroadenoma, probably benign, but to be sure we can biopsy. Or follow. I said, biopsy. Good thing I did. The next day, Marco and I found out that it was not benign, but rather poorly differentiated and thus malignant. This was Dec 21, and it was the day 20 years ago that we brought my mother home from the hospital, to die.
Someday I will write more about my mother's experience. For now - she continued on a steady decline and died on January 14, 1991. My sister, two aunts, hospice nurse and myself were all there. My father had just left for work. It was a bit past 10AM in the morning, a mild, sunny day. It was peaceful. As sad as it was, and while a part of me will always feel it was unfair that she died so young, there was something about it that seemed so natural.
On January 14, 2011, Marco and I were driving back from meeting my oncologist. He was very optimistic, I had a good prognosis, my scans were clear. We felt more hopeful than any time before Dec 21, when we first learned that the lump was cancer. At one point, we were driving down the A6, south of Bern, looking at the Alps - you can see the Jungfrau, Eiger, Moench if it's clear enough. It was a gorgeous afternoon. It's a spectacular view, if you've not seen it. The Alps here really remind me of quiet, grave, learned men and women, watching over us.
And at this one point, I just had this feeling - tingle, puff of air, whatever, and somehow my mother and I let go of each other. Not that we don't care for and watch out for each other, but rather, our paths won't be the same.
And when I checked the time it was a little after 4PM, Central European Time, 6 hours later than Eastern Standard Time - 10 AM in Pittsburgh.Maybe it's an angel, maybe the hand of some god, or maybe my subconscious rationalizing new information.
Whatever it was, it was a profound moment for me. The part of me that always has to make a joke wants to queue Twilight Zone music.....because it feels a little squirrly to be profound.
And so it begins....
Today I started chemotherapy. You'd think that I would actually know the names and classes of the drugs that I am receiving, but I don't at the moment. It's ok. Next time I'll write them down from the bags or see if I can read my doctor's handwriting. It doesn't really much matter... I'm more a behaviorist. What they give me matters, but the science part is less interesting to me than how it all works together, if that makes any sense at all.
I just have to say that I love Swiss health care so far. So organized. My regular doctor gives me this grid with all my meds and when I take them. And the oncologist gives me an even more detailed grid with specific days of the week and when I take which drug. Maybe they do that in the US too now - I don't know, but this is a fabulous set up.
At the same time, there's a bit more autonomy. When I went into the hospital for my lumpectomy, I brought all of my prescription meds, and took them. When I was released, I packed up, the nurse walked me to the elevator and wished me well. No wheelchair. You also walk yourself up to the room, and you walk down to the consultation room to see the doctor. I really like it.
Hmm.. haven't said anything about the lumpectomy. Well, that went really well. Small scar parallel to the floor under my arm where the lump was removed, and underarm perpendicular where they removed the lymph nodes. The pathology looks good - no evidence of mets or node involvement, tumor was 3cm, so I'm a IIa. But the tumor grade - level of differentiation - and a measure of aggressiveness - is 3, hence the chemo. Bone, liver, lung and abdomen all look clear. So all in all, good prognosis.
Anyway, I had 4 bags of stuff today. Two chemo drugs (cytoxins?) and some antinausea and some prednisone. I think I have a little prednisone buzz at the moment, but no nausea. Just feel a little wired and weird. That will go away, but then I'll probably become tired and loose my hair. But, I have a really cute wig waiting for me.
Should post more regularly now... this is more or less catch up. Also, I suspect that most of my posts will deal with my medical experiences for a while.... because I don't see myself cooking much inventive stuff for a bit, and I do seem to have this all consuming schedule of medications and doctor visits. It's a full time job!
I just have to say that I love Swiss health care so far. So organized. My regular doctor gives me this grid with all my meds and when I take them. And the oncologist gives me an even more detailed grid with specific days of the week and when I take which drug. Maybe they do that in the US too now - I don't know, but this is a fabulous set up.
At the same time, there's a bit more autonomy. When I went into the hospital for my lumpectomy, I brought all of my prescription meds, and took them. When I was released, I packed up, the nurse walked me to the elevator and wished me well. No wheelchair. You also walk yourself up to the room, and you walk down to the consultation room to see the doctor. I really like it.
Hmm.. haven't said anything about the lumpectomy. Well, that went really well. Small scar parallel to the floor under my arm where the lump was removed, and underarm perpendicular where they removed the lymph nodes. The pathology looks good - no evidence of mets or node involvement, tumor was 3cm, so I'm a IIa. But the tumor grade - level of differentiation - and a measure of aggressiveness - is 3, hence the chemo. Bone, liver, lung and abdomen all look clear. So all in all, good prognosis.
Anyway, I had 4 bags of stuff today. Two chemo drugs (cytoxins?) and some antinausea and some prednisone. I think I have a little prednisone buzz at the moment, but no nausea. Just feel a little wired and weird. That will go away, but then I'll probably become tired and loose my hair. But, I have a really cute wig waiting for me.
Should post more regularly now... this is more or less catch up. Also, I suspect that most of my posts will deal with my medical experiences for a while.... because I don't see myself cooking much inventive stuff for a bit, and I do seem to have this all consuming schedule of medications and doctor visits. It's a full time job!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
After surgery
Although I don't want to be defined by my breast cancer, I suppose some details are useful. I'm about to see the oncologist tomorrow for chemotherapy. After that, I will have radiation therapy, followed by hormone (or anti-hormone) therapy.
I appear to have clear margins, and am node negative, so those are good signs. The tumor was/is aggressive, hence the need for chemo. I had a lumpectomy and that's healing nicely.
I hate medical tests. I hate waiting for the results and thinking that it's a bad result, I've failed again. This is because I have test anxiety in general. That basically sucks.
But the prognosis is good.......
I appear to have clear margins, and am node negative, so those are good signs. The tumor was/is aggressive, hence the need for chemo. I had a lumpectomy and that's healing nicely.
I hate medical tests. I hate waiting for the results and thinking that it's a bad result, I've failed again. This is because I have test anxiety in general. That basically sucks.
But the prognosis is good.......
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