Category: Chemotherapy

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Chemo, a Shot, and Florida-Bound

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This morning is interrupted by chemo day, my routine every three weeks. Usually this starts by giving blood first thing, working for a couple of hours at Panera, and then back for chemo. I brought my nurse some chocolate chippers from Panera, and this put a smile on her face. There was enough to share, so I think several people were happy. They do so much for us; I like to give them something in return.

Technically, my treatment is considered “biotherapy” for the HER2+ cancer cells; but it does require an infusion that takes about 2-3 hours from start to finish (after the labs are drawn).

I can taste it today. It tastes a bit metallic. A few more sips from my hot tea do the trick at least temporarily.

I just learned from my nurse that even though they draw labs every time, there isn’t really have any requirements on my blood work to get the Perjeta and Herceptin. I just have to get echos every three months to ensure my heart is strong.

My body is stable, and the lesions are no longer visible (except two teeny, tiny spots on the brain), so it’s worth a couple of hours every three weeks.

I’m in a corner room, which is only separated from other patients by a thin, drawn curtain. It is my least favorite room in this suite since it is not as private, but today has been fairly interesting eves dropping on the conversations of my fellow patients. The first patient was only here for a few minutes to get an injection. She is looking for a labradoodle, and her breeder brought in pictures of her new puppies.  That brought some excitement to the air.  The next patient, who is getting chemo while I am writing this blog, is apparently using the cold cap.  If you’ve never heard of this, it is a pretty cool (pun intended) invention.  Cancer patients can save their hair by the use of this cap while receiving chemo.

Beeping interrupts my train of thought as the nurse comes in to turn off the machine. One down, one to go. I’m also getting my Xgeva injection today. For some reason this one sometimes gets overlooked on my schedule, so I have to ask about it. I’m “supposed” to get this shot once a month to help strengthen my bones. Xgeva does have a prerequisite – calcium and phosphorus levels. I don’t understand it all, but they checked my blood and everything is find. The last shot was September 19th, so the nurse will give me one today.  Frankly, I’m glad to save a trip since it doesn’t always align with chemo day.

After my Herceptin is finished, and I get my shot, we will unplug and I will be on my way. Tim and I are packed and leaving for Florida as soon as we can. I’m taking some books in case anyone wants one at a huge discount. First-come, first-serve!

We are heading to our undergraduate alma mater – Warner University – for their Homecoming 50th anniversary celebration. In addition, Dr. Darr is being honored for his retirement after 40 years. He was leading the music program when I was there, and just retired at the end of last year. I will sing in the special alumni choir that has been put together for this celebration. I think there are almost 100 people in the choir.

Aside, in case you didn’t know, my undergraduate degree is in music and youth ministry. Attending school at Warner and singing in the groups transformed this painfully shy little girl into a confident young lady.  I used the skills I learned to lead worship for many years. I owe a lot to this place. Further, I met my lifelong companion there, and we have been together for 33 years.

I can’t wait to see everyone! I wonder if I will recognize people, or if they will recognize me…it’s been a loooong time.

Á la prochaine…until next time!

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Scans

Several beautiful well-behaved Labrador Retrievers are sitting on and around a CT scan. The meme reads, “Sorry, sir, we can’t do your CAT Scan, but we can give you a LAB Report!”  Insert rimshot.

Doctor says to the patient, “I have the results of your MRI.  Half your brain is clogged with passwords and the other half is clogged with user names.”

I am amused by the plethora of jokes and memes regarding CT scans and MRIs.  Laughter is good medicine, and I love a good pun. I think we can all relate to the MRI joke with the new securities and technologies requiring newer and longer passwords–different user names for each site we visit–that are clogging our drains…eh hem…I mean brains.  My employer just announced the use of new VPN security due to a hacker getting into the system and diverting an employee’s paycheck! Yeah, I’ll take the extra precautions even though my brain is full of a few extra passwords.

Every three months my oncologist sends me for tests to make sure the chemo is doing its job:  CT scan of the abdomen, pelvis, and chest as well as MRI of the brain. Sometimes he does the bone scan but it doesn’t really tell him as much, so he didn’t do it this time. I didn’t mind not doing it as it meant one less visit to the hospital.

For about a year now the organs have been stable without any evidence of disease.  I am continually praising the Lord for what He is doing in my life.  Two tiny spots on the brain could be anything, but as long as they do not grow we must be doing something right.  Apparently, many people have spots on their brain and don’t even know it, so I guess one could say I fall in the ‘normal’ category!

In case you have forgotten, or don’t know my history, this round of treatment started with a diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer in December 2016, nearly two years ago.  I had a seven centimeter mass on my ribcage, spots in my spine, skull, ribs, as well as liver and lungs.  Since then, all of those spots have completely disappeared.

Today was another follow-up with my oncologist to go over Friday’s test results.  I am never worried, but always a little curious, to know what the results will be. Whatever will be, will be, right? Worrying only takes time away from more important things. I admit it is always nice to get the thumbs up and hear the words “stable” once again.  I think he is a bit surprised each time I come in.  We talked briefly about the treatment plan, e.g. continuing with infusions of Herceptin and Perjeta every three weeks, as well as daily pills (Anastrozole).  If it’s working, don’t fix it; so, we’ll keep plugging along.

I continue to work, and I continue to ride the Harley, and I continue to spend time with my family…not necessarily always in that order. LOL.  I will continue to do all of these things as long as the Lord gives me breath, strength, and adds to the days of life.  Everything I do is to glorify Him. People, God is evident in my life! I couldn’t do this without Him.

“You will live a long life and see my saving power.” Psalm 91:16 CEV 

Á la prochaine...until next time.

 

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Blood Clots

Chemo day is usually pretty uneventful. Come in, give blood, get vitals, access port, get chemo, and I go home. Today, however, a little hiccup when the nurse could not get blood return from my port. He tried multiple times to no avail. He said it probably has a small clot in there. I admit I heard “clot,” and got a little nervous about that. However, this is fairly normal and apparently does not have any long-term concerns. He said they have to do a TPA and clear the line of any blockage. This takes about an hour. Basically it’s a syringe with some medicine connected to the line.

To move forward with my Herceptin and Perjeta treatment, they had to put an IV in my arm.  Ouch!  I have also been having trouble with IVs, so he went in through the wrist. The hand and wrist are pretty sensitive. My nurse Marco, who I had last time, took good care of me. It only hurt a little.

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Who will take care of me?

I just realized it has been three months since my last blog. And it was the week of Residency, which is this week as well.  What are the odds…Perhaps my quantitative friends can help figure that one out.

I had my chemo and XGeva this morning. My nurse was rushing like a bandit because she knew I was hoping to get out early. I got in early, about 30 minutes. That’s usually unheard of.  Unfortunately we can’t rush the chemo. Drip, drip, drip. It takes at least an hour regardless of how much we try to force it.  Then there is the preparation, and the flush in between, and after, and the Heparin. All in all, it takes a solid 90 minutes even if the stars align.

I’m sitting at Panera waiting for my hubby to join me. I was rushing to get out of chemo because he had a doctor’s appointment, and I wanted to be there.  My nurse could sense the urgency, as I don’t usually ask them to hurry up.  This is not your usual, ho-hum, mundane visit to the doctor. He’s been having symptoms. Headaches and such.  His doctor ordered a brain scan. They found “something.”  Today’s visit with the neurologist would help determine what they found. Unfortunately, he made it to the doctor before my last drip, so I’m waiting for him to tell me the results.

It’s always hard to wait for results from a scan, test, or other medical procedure, but I have learned how to be patient during the waiting.  Endurance produces character (Romans 5:4).  Last week I had a moment. Sometimes we joke about death – it may sound morbid but it’s our way of dealing with life with cancer. In the midst of laughing I had a sad thought. If something happened to him, who will take care of me? Shake it off…it was only a momentary lapse from the usual positivity we embrace.

He’s here…………….

Praise God my hubby came bearing good news! The spots on the brain scan, which were confirmed by the neurologist, are like age spots on your skin. (Ha! Despite his boyish face and blond hair, I knew he was aging.)  The doc says there is no concern. They ruled out all the biggies like MS, stroke, blockage, etc. In fact, it is likely the headaches created the spots. (I didn’t know headaches could do that.)  He does have some stress in his life, as any caregiver can relate, which may be contributing to the symptoms. The doctor recommended watching his cholesterol and blood pressure. Tim told me this as he was salting his apple.

Basically, the doctor ordered my hubby to de-stress and decompress.  Sounds like it is time for another ride.

À la prochaine…until next time.

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Perspective

Perspective

Janina Stout

“Never be afraid to fall apart because it is an opportunity to rebuild yourself the way you wish you had been all along.” ~Rae Smith

My Story

After two chemotherapy sessions, I had a repeat breast ultrasound. My tumor was a triple positive breast cancer, and it was not getting bigger with the chemotherapy regime my oncologist had ordered for me. I was very happy with the positive news.

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Act As If

Act As If

Anonymous

“Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” ~Mark 11:24

 

My Story

From the time I can remember, “acting as if your prayers had already been answered” was my mantra. Since childhood, visualizing a positive outcome and working toward it was my goal. Once I set my mind in that direction, the fear always dissolved because God was in the plan and I believed.

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