I don't have breast cancer

While the title of this post could lead you to believe that this post is a rant on Pinktober, and while I could easily rant for a long time about the disgusting commercialization of boobs at the expense of real women dealing with a potentially fatal disease, that's not what this post is about :)

I went to see an ob-gyn about chemo boobs at the recommendation of my PCP. She was a neat lady and I felt like she was competent. She sent me for a mammogram and a breast ultrasound, since breast cancer risk is higher for those who have had radiation to the chest.

I went for those tests the next day. It's funny. At no point have I even remotely thought that I might have breast cancer. And yet, going for a mammogram — my first ever, since I'm just shy of 34 — I was nervous at the outcome.

It varied between pretty uncomfortable and low-grade pain. I can see why women don't go for these things when they're supposed to. The ultrasound, of course, was easy.

The ob-gyn had written the orders so that I could be given the results by the radiologist right then and there, which was nice. I have a few small cysts, but that's pretty normal. Both docs could feel them, though I can't. Nothing to be concerned about. Fabulous.

So later this week, I went to the podiatrist about some plantar warts. In the course of talking, I mentioned that I've had these removed once before, though clearly, it didn't work. He asked if they'd been biopsied. Um... no?

Apparently, there is some kind of carcinoma that looks like plantar warts, and if they've been around for a while and don't respond to treatment, they should be biopsied.

Huh.

Well, in the time that these things (two of them) have been growing, I've had five PET scans. I'm going to need to believe that if they were cancerous, we would have known about that by now. He said that he's never had a patient whose warts turned out not to be warts, and he's been a podiatrist for 30 years, but he's read about it in the literature. At least he's keeping up to date.

And so these little cancer things pop up and pop back down. And it's so weird when and how they show up. And I wonder if I would react to them the same way without my history, and I have to assume it would be different. If I hadn't had cancer, the possibility of a wart being cancer would be ridiculous, because things like cancer happen to other people, to older people, to less healthy people, not to me...

two years!!

Happy two-year cancer-versary to me!

The doc counts years beginning at the end of chemo, which isn't until November, but today is the anniversary of when I got the good news that the cancer was dead — first negative PET scan. Hooray!!

Hodgkin lymphoma is most likely to recur in the first two years, so this is a big milestone!

I plan to celebrate in November, when I get the high-five from the doc. Giving thanks at Thanksgiving indeed!

hoping hoping hoping it's nothing

For the last month or so maybe, since I started swimming on a more regular basis, my skin has been super-itchy. I have been sometimes putting lotion on it, which sometimes helps. I've been making sure to wash more thoroughly after being in the pool, taking showers that aren't quite as hot, etc., trying to reduce drying agents. I assumed that the itchiness was either a reaction to chemicals in the pool or dry skin as a result of the season and the pool.

For the last week-ish, my back has been sore, just right up the spine. If I'm sitting or standing normally, I don't notice it. When I twist, it's a "I worked out too hard" kind of sore ... but I hadn't worked out those muscles when this started. Also, I can do general back exercises and they don't bother the soreness at all.

For reasons unknown, I went just now and looked up the vague symptoms that help lead to Hodgkins diagnoses. Itchy skin and vague back soreness are both on the list.

I'm a bit freaked. OK, I'm a lot freaked.

Everything else is fine. I have no other potential symptoms, my breathing is fine. I think that maybe my inability to explain why my back is sore is ramping up my current anxiety. Itchy skin I can explain away.

Lymph nodes in my neck are not noticeable. I don't know how to check any of the other ones. Though I am guessing if this actually *is* a recurrence, it would be in the same place as the old one, and I can't check there.

I'm going to call the oncologist's office on Monday and see if he thinks I should be concerned. I'd like to be able to talk to someone sooner, but it's not something to bother the doctor on call about, I don't think.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

it's almost that time...

We are rapidly approaching the one-year anniversary of my entrance to the hospital (May 16). It actually is kind of making me nervous, like there's something inherent about May that is going to cause me to wake up one morning and not be able to breathe again.

I just sent an e-mail a few minutes ago, and in it, I was bitching a bit about having our district festival on Wednesday, and how that means I'm in teacher mode until 9:00 Wednesday night, after which, we get to clean up. I'm conducting the beginning band, so it's not like the afternoon when kids are rehearsing is putz time. (Actually, though, I'm looking forward to conducting a band that has more than 20 kids in it.)

Anyway, in the e-mail, I said that last year, the day of the district festival was the first day I was in the hospital, so I'm glad this year to be going to the festival instead. But even as I typed it, "hopefully" was somewhere in my head. As if to say, I won't believe that I will actually be there until I'm there.

I'm planning our spring concert and how to wind down the year with collecting instruments and such. I wasn't there for any of this last year. And there's a funky little something inside that makes me wonder if I'll be there for it this year.

Now, in real life, I have very little reason to believe that I wouldn't be there for it. (The only anything is the swollen lymph node.) I'm planning for it, and it all should be fine.

I was at the gym on Friday and today and did some decent cardio and felt fine. Breathing was fine, knees were fine, chest was fine - everything was fine. I think that once I get past some of these events that I missed last year, I will be fine. But for now, it's a funky kind of background paranoid, like when you see something out of the corner of your eye, but as soon as you turn to look at it, it disappears.

Only time will tell.

quick update on the doc's appointment

Well, I forgot my paper with my questions, so I didn't remember to ask them all.

I wear sunscreen on all uncovered parts whenever I leave the house. Today, I am wearing short sleeves, so I put sunscreen on my arms before leaving work. By the time I got to the doc's, my right arm was sunburned. That kinda answered the sun question. I asked anyway, and he said that it would be best if I wore long sleeves. "Indefinitely?" "For a while." I'm not sure how long that is, and I didn't inquire. So I'm going now to look for one or two long-sleeved shirts (one definitely in white) that I can wear over my short sleeves when I'm outside.

I've been having the weird skin sensitivity lately, like I had during chemo. It's not nearly as bad, but it is noticeable. I asked about that, and he said that he wasn't concerned about it. (The doc's answers aren't great for those of us who like to know "why" -- he's just answering from a "should I be concerned" perspective.)

He listened to my lungs without my request, and he said nothing about them, so I assume they are fine. If I continue to have the same problem with exercising, I'll call.

The swollen node is about the same - everyone agrees - so no action necessary at this time. I should call right away if I notice a change for the worse (no kidding!!).

And I'll have another PET scan 3 months from the previous, so that will be mid-to-late May, the year-mark of when this all started. The end of the school year approaching is raising a bit of anxiety in me. Funny, since the point in the school year had nothing to do with everything that happened. Ahhh, associations.

So that's where it's at right now.

shit...

I had a doc's appointment today. I missed it because I was way late because there was a crazy amount of traffic.

Normally, this wouldn't bother me too much, 'cause it's just a follow-up appointment. They tend to be really short and not very interesting.

However, I noticed earlier today that on the left side of my neck, the lymph node is swollen.

Originally, my make-up appointment was scheduled for Wednesday next week, but I'm going to see about going in tomorrow.

I'm scared...

chemo #10, dumb nurse, new PICC, etc.

It was nice to have time off from the PICC and from the chemo. It took almost all four weeks before the smaller side effects went away (loss of appetite, various bowel issues, trouble sleeping), but by Tuesday of this week, I was feeling pretty normal. The chemo will take care of that, of course, but it was nice to have a couple of days of relative normalcy. I was very grateful to miss a treatment cycle — the Thursday that I would have had my last treatment I still felt pretty crappy. The body wasn't ready for more poison yet.

Ten down, two to go.

Yesterday's treatment was about the same as any other. I have decided that the treatment break gave my body enough time off that I will react to these last three more like I did to earlier ones and not more recent ones (the earlier treatments had less side effects that went away fairly quickly, were more predictable, and were generally less unpleasant). My body is agreeing so far.

I had the PICC put back in on Wednesday. It was an OK experience. Hurt a little while it was going in. Hurt much more for the rest of the day and yesterday. Today it's a little sore, but it's much better than it was. I figure that in another day or two, it should be relatively unnoticeable. By then, it will only have three-and-a-half weeks until it comes back out :)

The home nurses came today to change the dressing. Normally that would be kind of silly, since it's only two days old, but it was bloody and gross to look at, so I was glad to have it changed.

There were two nurses today — the one who will be here each week and the one who is in charge of this area. The one in charge of the area felt compelled to tell me several negative stories, the purpose of which I just don't understand. One story was about a woman she knew (or knew of?) who died from having a thoracentesis (the procedure I had twice to get the fluid out from around my lungs). One was a cautionary tale of how all treatments are different, even with the same person, and that all can be well for many treatments, then all of a sudden, all sorts of nasty things happen. Thanks. One was an explanatory story about why I might need to keep my PICC in longer than the end of treatment — because some lady had a PICC and finished treatment and then her cancer recurred and she needed more chemo. Is that story *really* necessary? I don't get people sometimes... But I shouldn't need to see her any more, so it's more OK than it would be if she was my regular weekly nurse.

My hair is growing back in nicely. It looks to be about the same color, texture and style as it was before: brown, soft, straight. No "chemo curl" here, unless it's delayed ;) Right now it's still thinner than it was before it fell out, but it's thick enough to look normal. It almost looks like I have this 'do on purpose.

Chemo ends in four weeks, Thanksgiving in five weeks, return to work in five and a half. Radiation likely to start in eight weeks — merry Christmas — and hopefully will end in twelve weeks ... and then it'll all be over and life can return to normal. I'm very much looking forward to eating well, sleeping well, having my regular energy and workout routine back. It'll also be nice to be rid of chemo-nose — this heightened sense of smell is particularly unpleasant with Peanut (and his accidents) around. And while I very much enjoy all of the cards that I have been receiving, it'll be kinda nice just to get bills and junk mail again. Funny, no?

starting to feel refreshed

I have, for the most part, come to accept the upcoming chemo treatments.

In the meantime, I'm kind of excited about having a break. I have chemo on Thursday, but since it'll be my last one for just about a month and the last one before I travel, I'll get my PICC out Thursday, too! Woo-hoo!!!! I am VERY excited about that. You can be sure that as soon as the chemo-crap days are over, I'll be back into full exercise mode. I can't wait!!

Then, when I get back, the PICC will only be in for about four weeks: they'll put it in just before a treatment, then two weeks to tmt2, then two more weeks to the LAST TREATMENT and then it comes back out :)

It will be nice to give my body a little rest from the chemo, too. I'm hoping that the little rest will enable more side-effect-less treatments for the end.

And with the timing of things ending, I won't have more than a week of radiation before Christmas, which means I should still feel good. And the break in between both means I'll be off all treatments during most of gig season.

I was considering changing travel plans or traveling on a chemo weekend to move the end up two weeks, but I think I've decided that it's only two weeks, and having those two weeks in the late-middle instead of off the end might be nice. A seventh inning stretch, if you will.

I think my hair is starting to grow back in. I'm getting it trimmed tomorrow and will know for sure then, but it looks darker to me.

Ahhhh... it feels good to be starting to be at ease with what's going on.

more chemo on the way...

(This is a copy-paste of today's e-mail update)


I recently got word that I am scheduled for 4 more treatments of chemotherpy. At one every two weeks, with a break for my trip back east, that'll take me up to the week before Thanksgiving.

So much for getting radiation for my birthday.

I am not at all psychologically/emotionally ready to deal with two more months of this. If I hadn't been told in JULY that I was just shy of being finished, it might be less difficult. But it is what it is and those are the cards I'm stuck with.

Reason given: I'm responding well. My interpretation: I'm being punished for not being horrendously sick.

I'm sure that at some point, I'll rediscover optimism and positiveness, but it ain't here right now.

Extra support would be amazingly fabulously appreciated.

misc social run-ins

A few random cancer-related run-ins...

We had our first community band practice for the season last week. It was nice to go and play :) It was nice to have a social outlet, too.

Anyway, one of the tuba players came up to me at the break, with the best way into a conversation I've heard yet: "Can I ask?" I said sure, and we talked, and another guy came over and the three of us talked and it was good.

Someone else at rehearsal came up to me as we were packing up to tell me that she'd been there and was out living life again. She had breast cancer 8 years ago, did the chemo thing and is fine. While I know that there are lots and lots of people who have had cancer and moved on (in a good way), it's always nice to see another.

While grocery shopping, an old guy in a little scooter came up to me and asked if I had breast cancer. No, Hodgkins. Oh, well, his wife had breast cancer 20 years ago and is still doing great.

I wrote a little card for "the new girl" who I sat next to at chemo. I took it when I went for my shot on Friday, knowing she was getting one, too, but I didn't know what time. I was there first thing in the morning and she wasn't there. One of the nurses took it and put it on her chart so she could get it when she came in. I offered, in the card, to be her cancer buddy if she wanted one. I told her that when I was starting out, I had no interest in any such thing and so I wouldn't be at all offended if she declined.

Today, I got a really nice e-mail from her, saying I really helped her unpleasant experience to be much nicer and that she'd be glad to have a chemo buddy. It turns out our next treatments should overlap, so I'll likely see her then. I hope her weekend is going OK.

I called the oncology counselor and left a message saying that I'd like to set up an appointment to discuss this anger thing. Though it has subsided, should it rear it's head again, I'd like to have some coping skills. I think I'll also talk about my anxiety about the side effects of the radiation, and see if she can help me get back on my positive track. I have some time on that one, though.

not so angry any more

Basically, what it boils down to is, I've calmed down.

I haven't been angry or thought it all unfair or anything like that through this whole ordeal until over the weekend, when it hit with a vengance. Fortunately, I am feeling better now. Lots of things still irritate me perhaps a bit more than they used to, but they don't make me flaming mad.

For example, tonight, I was invited to go to a D-backs game with a friend who I don't see all that often. In the parking garage, I took the steps down from the 4th floor where I parked, and back up at the appropriate time. Both times, there were other people taking the elevator. "Silly people, take the steps" as opposed to "You lazy assholes who could be doing your bodies a teeny favor by taking the steps (especially going down!) but no, you have to take the elevator." Or something like that.

It's good. I feel more like myself and less like that nasty lady who was possessing my body over the weekend.

That's really all I have to say about that.

angry

The amount of anger I've had over the past few days has been somewhat overwhelming. It is not an emotion that I have had with regards to the cancer before now, and I really don't like it. I'm not entirely sure where it's coming from or why it's hitting now (well, I can hazard a guess on that one), but I'm looking forward to it going away.

I went to the mall yesterday to change our cell phone service provider. In the course of things, I needed to go to the second floor. There were steps nearby, so I took them ... at a run ... two at a time. I had no trouble making it to the top that way and was not terribly winded when I got up there. That made me happy.

And then I considered that probably half of the able-bodied people at the mall at that time would not be able to do what I had just done, and I've been on chemotherapy for 2-1/2 months. And my blood boiled.

There is an epidemic of people who, given their choice of things to do, would most like to sit around and watch TV. Why don't they have cancer instead? Then they'd have a good excuse for numbing their brains and deteriorating their bodies all day. There are a zillion people who eat nothing healthy unless perhaps by accident (or in quantities that make it unhealthy anyway) and generally don't give a rat's ass about their health or their body (except maybe through lip service). Why can't they have cancer instead?

[Where did the phrase "I don't give a rat's ass come from, anyway? I don't even have any rats' asses to give...]

So in addition to being sulky and generally sad about being alone most of the time, I have this new hostility.

Enter TJ, who sometimes takes care of himself for a week or so (until it wears off) who would rather sit and watch TV more than anything else, as far as I can tell (based on actions).

This is not good. It doesn't make for a happy home or a happy marriage, which just adds on to the already-too-long list of shit to deal with.

So I've got all kinds of crap going on right now, when I really just want to go back to being the way I was two weeks ago. I don't know how to do that.

musings on what's going on now

Some different things going on in my head these days ...

I went to a viewing (didn't stay for the funeral) for the husband of a friend. He died of cancer. It was weird weird weird weird weird to be there, knowing that at its most basic level, what killed him and what I have are the same. And the services were in friggin' Surprise, so I had a good hour each way to think about it :-P


I am struggling with being home all the time. I mean, I have occasional appointments and things, and I run errands as needed, but mostly, I'm just home. I'm doing stuff (usually) — there is no shortage of things to do!! — so I'm generally busy, but I feel pretty isolated. I see TJ in the evenings, of course, but I can't rely solely on him to fulfill my social needs. I'm not really sure what to do, though. People are busy, people are working, and I can't fault them for that, certainly — I'd be doing the same thing if I could. So how to fix it...?


Finally ... radiation is currently on the list of things that are slightly terrifying. I'm not worried too much about short-term side effects, mostly because they go away. Yeah, it would suck to spend a month sick from radiation, but it would go away. Side effects are listed below (a scan of something I signed yesterday... I don't know why it's crooked... click it to see it larger):





Scary, no? Dr. Radiation explained them all and mentioned a few that were pretty uncommon. I am working on visualizations and affirmations that will help my heart and lungs to stay healthy/flexible (basically, the radiation creates inflexible scar tissue on/around heart/lungs). I'm taking suggestions, as I'm having some trouble.

I'm also planning to ask at my next appointment if there's anything I can do that will help. For example, will a good cardio workout help (since it gets all those things moving)? If so, I will do a good cardio workout every damned day, regardless of how I'm feeling otherwise. What good is it to be rid of cancer if it's just replaced by heart disease?

Taking thoughts and suggestions. Also hoping that putting fear out here will help. It helped a lot last time.

pressure to be a "changed" woman

I've had a few people mention this in passing, but this morning I got an e-mail explicitly asking:

"I am sure that you have reflected on life and have a different/altered attitude about it and about your relationships, etc... I would be curious if you (when you have time) could write back and just share with me a little bit about how this experience has changed your perception about yourself, your values, and your life."

Truth be told, I don't feel very much different. I might change that once I'm out and looking back.

I am happy that there are some others who are closer in touch now :) It's not a change in me or one that I really control (though I control half of it, I guess).

I feel more "invincible" now than I did three months ago. Isn't that funny? You always hear about people getting potentially terminal diseases and feeling more mortal. I did for a little while, but since I've learning that I'm beating the crap out of it, I feel really tough, for lack of a better word.

I have new confirmation that I am strong and can be positive through a short long-term hell.

I am grateful for my fabulous husband in a new/different context.

Overall, though, I generally liked the balance I had in my life, between work, friends, marriage, family, other stuff. I might tweak it a bit, but it's not like this has caused a major shift.

The woman I was talking to in the infusion room on Thursday commented on how neat it was to watch her partner's priorities change, spending less time partying and more time with family, etc. I think this is the kind of thing that people are looking for or assuming is happening with me, but really, as far as I can tell, it's really just not.

responding well to treatment

So I felt a bit like I was being punished for responding well to the chemo, since that was brought up today as a reason that I could deal with two more.

However, yesterday, there was a woman next to me in the infusion room who was there just to be hydrated because she's been really sick. After throwing up for a few minutes, she drifted off to sleep and I talked to her partner who was there. I asked if she was OK.

This is a piece of her story:

She has ovarian cancer, had surgery, had treatment, went into remission. Remission lasted 10 months. She's having more treatment (and maybe another surgery in there?). She'll likely go back into remission, but the remissions will get shorter.

I thought of this today because she was supposed to have six treatments of whatever drugs (different than mine) and only had three because she was reacting so badly to it.

So ... better to have two more precautionary treatments since I can handle it than to get only half of what was prescribed because I couldn't handle it.

You can't play the sympathy card with the cancer. It doesn't give a shit.

One of a million little reminders that while I am cranky about where I'm at, it could be way worse.

In the meantime, my coworker's husband's cancer killed him.

It wasn't me. It could be worse.

much happened today

I went to the doc's this morning for my neulasta shot. While I was there, I rapid-fired questions at the nurse, who gently told me that these were really questions for the doctor. I knew that already, but I didn't have access to the doctor. She said she'd go talk to him.

She came back a few minutes later and said that he said that they wanted to make sure that the fluid issue was taken care of. Hm. That's different than what he told me yesterday (and I haven't had trouble breathing since around the second treatment). She also said that since I'm responding so well to the chemo, that it would be OK to have two more treatments. The answer was really kind of worse than no answer, because I felt more jerked along. As I found out more little pieces, I felt more like I was getting more chemo to cover his ass. Funny, because all along, he's been very straightforward and told it like it is, and I've always taken him at his word. This shook that up pretty well.

I was tired today from not enough sleep (though I slept well), and I was cranky and emotional all day, and I was busy. I'm not sure if busy was good, really. Sometimes busy when cranky is good because it lets me forget that I'm cranky. Didn't work so well today. And I was tired, which made the cranky worse. The emotional part wasn't as bad as yesterday — I could talk about what was going on without crying today, as long as I didn't talk about it too long or too in-depth.


Here's the surprise:

At about 8:00, the phone rang. I answered it, and it was Dr. Oncology! He was calling to clarify what was going on. I'm not sure who, if anyone, talked to him more after I left this morning. It was very cool of him to call, and it gave me the opportunity to ask the questions that I didn't have the presence of mind to ask yesterday.

This is the deal:

He said that basically, I had a lot of cancer and it was kind of all over. He said it was localized (which I knew — all the tests for spread came back negative) but aggressive. He said that this kind of cancer responds best to chemotherapy, and that he wants to make sure that it's gone for good.

I explained that all of that completely made sense to me, but that I was surprised yesterday because it was contrary to what he'd said before, and I'd spent two weeks celebrating, and kind of had the carpet ripped out from under me. I didn't understand why it had changed. Basically, he thought about it some more. Well ... OK. I can accept that. I'm not thrilled about it, but on the other hand, he's thinking about it for more than the three minutes before he comes in to see me and the two minutes that we're in the same room.

He said that most people at this point aren't even close to talking about having only two more treatments, so he's thrilled to be even having this conversation. True. OK. He did apologize once or twice during the conversation for the emotional roller coaster (my paraphrase), which I appreciated.

I thanked him for calling — it was really good of him to do — and that was that.

Funky, no?

So I have two more chemo treatments. Some time before my next appointment, I'll meet with the radiologist and see where things are there. Dr. Oncology, in my appointment yesterday, asked me where I lived, and I said just three miles from there. He said that was good, and he'd set me up with Dr. Radiology, a radiologist in the oncology radiation office next door, who is "very good." From what I learned later yesterday, the orders were very specifically for that doctor and not anyone else in that office. So that's a good thing, I think.

The PICC line is a pain in the butt, but with two more treatments, I'm glad it's there. I'm going to call the office Monday or Tuesday, whenever I regroup from the post-chemo weekend, and ask if I'm allowed to exercise with it in. I'm not sure, because I know I'm not supposed to get it wet, and sweat might count as wet. We'll see.

So that's where I'm at. It's not as good a place as I thought I'd be in today, but it's better than where I was 36 hours ago. Though, really, I'll believe the "two more treatments" when he walks into the examining room and says, "Today is the last one." Fool me once ....

Another brief post to come...

not where I thought I'd be

Well, I'm home from the doctor.

The PICC is still in.

I might not be done chemo.

Doc said that how much chemo is controversial and he and the radiologist need to go over my chart and determine if I need more chemo or if I'm ready for radiation.

More chemo, he said, means less radiation, which in the long run is a good thing. Chemo is better for you than radiation.

I wouldn't have emotional or psychological problems with this at all if I hadn't had a countdown to today, what was supposed to be the last day of chemo.

I wouldn't feel silly emailing and calling people who were planning to come to my celebratory dinner, telling them that we can still have dinner, but it's not so celebratory. (Well, it might be. I don't know yet.)

The office is setting up something with the radiologist, Dr. Radiation, and then they'll call me. I don't know if that means they'll call today, but I double-checked before I left, and they said they were working on it and they'll call me. OK. I have to go in tomorrow for a shot anyway, so if I haven't heard, I can ask then.

It's as if The Grand Puppeteer saw that I wasn't going to cry today, since I didn't need to have an IV put in, and thought something else to induce tears should be mixed in. This induced many more tears than the IVs do...

That's my story. I don't really like today's chapter.

I did not meet my goal :(

It was not a happy day at the doctor's office today.

First nurse, who was called in to get me last time (she had the successful third stick) started. She tried twice and induced a really serious amount of pain.

She got another nurse who tried once and said she didn't want to try again.

She got another nurse who said she "can get anyone." I am her nemesis. She tried twice, to no avail, then recommended Ativan, an anti-anxiety pill. So they got a script for it, TJ went and got it, I took one. I think the nurse tried again too soon after me taking it (12 minutes), so it didn't do much, and she missed.

They called to have a PICC line put in right away, so I went for that.

The PICC nurse had been one of the ones to try back in May to get in an IV, and she remembered me and my veins. In any case, she was fabulous. The procedure was pain-free. Even injecting the anasthetic didn't hurt, and that usually burns like mad.

I went back to the infusion room and got my chemo, ending only an hour after the office was supposed to close. (Thank you to whichever doctor stuck around 'til I was done!!) So I was there from 10:30 'til 6. Long day, fraught with much pain and anxiety. :(

The PICC line will stay in until my next treatment. After that treatment, they'll take it out. It's a different kind than the last one I had. If I need a scan, I'll need a separate IV, because this won't accept those kinds of injections, don't know why. But I don't think there will be any scans, so I don't think it matters.

The results from the ultrasound yesterday came back negative - there's no perceptible clot. But I'm still swollen, so I think there is still something in there. In any case, I'm still on the bloodthinners, to help prevent a clot from this new PICC line, so they'll continue to help the other arm as well.

Two more weeks, no more needles :) At some point, I'll take a picture of the PICC line so you can see what it looks like.

today's small goal

I have my chemo appointment in about 45 minutes. This is today's goal: I will not cry when they try to put in the IV.

This is what usually happens: they try once and it doesn't work. I'm OK. They try again and it hurts like a bitch. I'm OK. They go to get someone else to try (I think they have a two-stick maximum per nurse per patient per day). While they're going to get someone else, I cry.

I don't cry because it hurts (it does hurt, but really, not that badly, and not for very long), but more the psychological "here we go again with the needles." Or something like that. I'm not sure if that makes any sense.

Then the second nurse comes over and tells me that when I'm upset, the veins constrict which makes it harder ... which I certainly know by now. I could probably not cry by that point, but I'm not convinced that looking calm will do anything to the veins. I think I need to actually be calm.

In any case, they always get it on three. When I went for my PET scan, it took three tries. I cried after two.

The crying is embarrassing, frankly, and it sure would be swell to stop.

That's the goal for today.

another "not me" moment

I just got an e-mail from a work friend. Her husband has cancer, which they've known for a while. I don't know other details about it except that he's kind of weak and isn't working.

They went to PA for vacation.

Her message said that on Monday he had emergency surgery: "cancer everywhere, huge mass, about the size of a football"

Wow. Happy vacation.

Again, my initial reaction was, "Oh my goodness! Poor them!!" I sent her a quick message, not knowing if she'd get it or not (she doesn't check e-mail often anyway and is on vacation).

Second reaction: "It's not me."

I hope they're OK and able to come home soon. She said one to three weeks. So now, since my diagnosis, three people I am two or three degrees removed from have died (I only posted here about two), and one person had emergency surgery for a cancer mass the size of a football.

While I appreciate the reminders that I'm in good shape, y'all can knock this off now! I remember! Sheesh...