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?

looking back, looking forward

Well, the last rounds of chemo loom ominously.

I have had 4 fabulous weeks since my last chemo treatment, 4 weeks without the PICC in my arm. It's been good.

I didn't feel as good as I had thought/hoped/planned to feel during much of those four weeks, but that's just how it goes sometimes. Given how I was feeling two weeks ago, I was very grateful to be missing a treatment.

But now, within the last two or three days, I have all regular body functions back: I have an appetite, I am able to use the bathroom without a laxative, I am able to sleep without Benadryl.

Exercise still completely wipes me out, though I was able to bike to my blood draw yesterday morning without napping in the afternoon. Slept well last night. I have been able to go walk/jogging a few times, done some pushups and situps and other such nonsense. It feels good to exercise :)

Since I went to see Dr. Oncology a week early, it has been five weeks since I've seen him. Not sure what I'll say to him tomorrow, if anything.

I went and had my PICC put back in this morning. The PICC nurse, as it turns out, remembers me from when they tried to put in an IV that nasty day over the summer (when several nice ladies tried and failed). There are quite a few people in the hospital who remember me from that day, which is a bit embarrassing. I made sure to point out, when she was done, that I made a fine patient today. She laughed and agreed.

Anyway, it's back in. My arm is pretty sore. It was pretty sore last time, too, but it went away within three or four days. I suspect the same will happen this time around as well.

I am hoping that the break from chemo will kind of "reset" the body's tolerance, and that this weekend will be more like early weekends were and less like recent weekends. They've been hitting harder lately, and I'm hoping not to pick up where I left off in that regard.

I only needed to deal with a few completely stupid cancer/chemo comments at the wedding reception. Not bad... Most people just asked how I was and walked away after my stock answer: "I feel good, or I wouldn't be here." A few were interested in more information, which I'm happy to share, but most of my conversations this past weekend were three to four sentences long. I hate that, but that's how it goes sometimes. I figure, half of those people probably wouldn't have talked to me at all if not for cancer. Which is better...?

Happily, I did have some nice conversations with people who I haven't talked with in a long time. That was nice.

Back to the cancer thing.

My hair has definitely grown in quite a bit. I'm not sure if it's thicker than it was last photo time (about a month ago), but it's longer, and it almost looks like I have this 'do on purpose. We'll see where it goes from here...

And that's about all for the moment. Chemo tomorrow morning. Then only two more...

the PICC is out!!!

Just a little celebratory post to share that the PICC line is officially gone, at least for a while. I'm still covered in tape, but the hole should heal within 24 hours. (If not, I need to keep it covered until it heals, as it's a direct line to the heart, apparently, and we don't want shit in there.)

Yaye for having my arm back :)

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.

PICC line pic

Here's what the PICC line looks like, for anyone interested...



The two things sticking up are taped to my arm, just so they don't get caught on things. Otherwise, they'd just be flopping around, asking to get caught on something...

All the tape is actually one big piece, with a sticky window. The whole thing is stuck to my arm.

The big white piece, closer to the "rabbit ears," is kind of a connector between the two ears and the single tube. The little white circle (harder to see in this pic) is over where the thing actually goes into my arm. The little blue tube goes from where you can see it, up my arm (inside) into my neck, I believe. They took an xray of my juggular after it was done to make sure it was in the right place, so I assume it's ending up in my neck.

The nice this about this, besides the obvious no-needles benefit (blood can come out and chemo can go in), is that the chemo doesn't burn (which it often does to some extent), since it's not actually touching those veins. Rock on! That also means I'm less likely to have issues with vein burn-out as a long-term side effect. (It's not really called vein burn-out, but that's the best I can do without looking it up.)

So I'll have it for two weeks. They will, as far as I know, take it out immediately following my next chemo appointment.

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.

how much do I suck?

So when I was in the hospital and my poor lungs were being crushed by fluid, I had a little breathing do-jiggy that I was supposed to use 10 times an hour (in any number of sets and reps I wanted). I put it in my mouth, took a deep breath, and measured where the little arrow went up to. I call it my suck-meter: an objective measure of how much I really suck.

In any case, I couldn't do it much a while ago. I brought it home and used it a lot when I first got here, monitoring progress. Then I had some pains in my side and couldn't take a deep breath. Then I tried it again the other day, and I came close to maxing it out. I think the lungs are clear :) Which, ironically, means I really suck.

:)

another weird sensation

I had blood drawn yesterday. Once a month, I have a complete blood panel, which means three tubes instead of one and a mini one. I was concerned, given the state of the veins, that they wouldn't be able to get it in one stick, which would have been a drag.

I keep seeing the same phlebotomist (I request her now), so she knows what's going on, which is nice.

She used a little needle (in my hand) and a syringe to suck the blood out and was successful in one try :)

But what was weird was that in the vein, I could feel the suction from the syringe. Funky.