I have so much to write now. I will start where I left off. After that April Fool's day event, I saw a different doctor each day for the next seven days. I saw Dr. Pam Strickland who is my surgeon. I LOVE her. She has been not only my surgeon but, my friend. For some reason, everytime I see her, I cry. She lets me cry and understands why I'm crying. Sometimes, she cries too. I saw Dr. Stephen Davidson who is my cancer doctor. My first impression of him was that he was too full of himself and I was not going to like him at all. His examination rooms were covered in awards, degrees, and trial studies all about him. By the time I saw him, I had a PET scan, MRI and heart test. Because of SE, these tests were read on the spot. I already knew what the results and what course of action I wanted to take and how I wanted it done. He seemed a little put out that I only wanted to know when I started chemo. I did not want to know the how's and why's of breast cancer. I did not want to know about cell mutation, the mass nearly attaching to my chest wall, the risks, the long term care, or even how chemo works. I wanted to know when I started chemo and that was it. He scheduled me to start that next Monday.
Dr. Davidson would go on to tell me that since summer was approaching, I could continue with my social activities such as going to the lake, drinking, going to clubs, hanging with my friends, socializing in general. He told me I could go on as usual. He never told me that the heat would make me throw up, sun would give me third degree sunburn not only on my skin, but on my bald head, no desire what so ever to drink anything but Sprite and to eat nothing other than cheeseburgers. I could only swim in the evenings due to the sun and heat. I did not want to see anyone or hang out with anyone....EVER. He also didn't tell me that my hair would hurt or the folicles would cause so much pain I would have to prop my neck up in a way my head did not hit the pillow. He didn't tell me that my arms and legs would have constent and uncomfortable chill bumps. He didn't tell me I could bruise easily and would have to have two ultrsounds on my leg in fear of a blood clot. He also didn't tell me my nose and eyes would water like a faucet. I should ask him to reimburse me the money that I paid for tissues.
I saw Dr. Strickland again and scheduled my surgery to have my port put in. A port is a little plastic device that feeds the chemo into your body. Each visit to the Cancer Center, the port was accessed by a needle. Through that port, they could also draw blood and administer any other meds I needed at the time.
My first couple of chemo treatments were GREAT. I laid there wondering why everyone was covered in soft white blankets, pale, sickly looking, and asleep. There was always that one person sitting in a chair next to them waiting, waiting, and waiting. Waiting for them to need to use the bathroom, waiting to get a drink, some ice or a snack. These people just sat there waiting. I couldn't understand what the big deal was. I also couldn't see what was so bad about getting the "day after shot". Note to self: I HATE THOSE SHOTS.
Exactly fourteen days after I started my treatments, my hair started to fall out. Somebody told me it would happen exactly fourteen days after but, I didn't think it really would. My mom shaved it short. Just about everyday, some times twice, we cut it shorter and shorter. It was hard for her, she took it very hard. I guess I just prepped myself to be bald. Even though we planned for me to wear scarves and hats, it was the middle of the summer and it was just plain too hot. So, I walked around bald headed. I developed spotty patches where it was half bald and half hair. Eventually, it all fell out. Bald as a babies butt. Slick. I did have a phantom ponytail that I would flick around occassionally. I personally did not really think about not having hair. I would only be reminded if I passed a mirror or if someone said something about it. Taylin on the other hand was nervous about what her friends would say. She did have a couple of incidents where kids made fun of me and hurt her feelings.
Exactly fourteen days after I started my treatments, I needed every medication tht they prescribed me. Meds for nausea, pain, panic attacks, vomitting, for depression, and for fever. I had to take my tempurture every single day twice a day to make sure I was not getting sick. I keep all of them in a large plastic container. It looks like an old person's plastic container.
You would not believe the out pour of prayers and cards from my family and people I didn't even know. People who just wanted me to know their story send me cards. Sunday classes and churches were sending me weekly cards to lift my spirits. Nana's friends sent me cards every week. It was such a shock to me of how many people think of me.
Luckily for me, some of the people at my work donated their sick time for me to be off from work throughout this whole ordeal. Those people, most are strangers, will never know how much I appreciated that jester. I was truly blessed to be working where I do at this time. If I were still in Florida, I don't know what I would have done. I would probably be out of work right know. Those people will never know how they touched my life. Every Monday that I had a treatment, they would bring me a basket or bag full of get well cards and some other surprise. I got a manicure/pedicure, movie passes, candy, stationary, and other nic naks. I was grateful for those. I loved reading them while getting my treatment.
Also, Ben really stepped up this summer and let Mini Me come stay with him while I completed my treatments. I am grateful to him for that.
The third chemo treatment, that's when I understood. I understood completely why those red devils made my body freeze. Gave me the worst chills I've ever had. I can not explain them and no matter how many blankets I had on or how many layers of clothes I had on, I was turning into that person. I was that person who was weak, pale, bald, who had dark circles under her eyes, and couldn't eat anything but cheeseburgers. My Mudder was that person sitting in the chair next to me waiting. Waiting for me to go to the bathroom, waiting for me to need a drink, waiting to drive me home and waiting to protect me. I was in such pain, all I could do is cry. I spent a lot of time in bed. I tried to go places like Walmart but, I couldn't make it out of the car somedays. I depended on Mudder for my taxi service, my meals, my strength, my entertainment, and my best friend. Even though I was going through CANCER, I was having the best time with Mudder. We ran the streets of Montgomery just about everyday. Even though I did not feel well, I still went and ran errands with her, shopped, watched movies, and spent countless hours in Walmart. She is my rock. I couldn't have gone through this ordeal without her. My spirits were lifted every time she was with me. I loved it when she brought me Monday prizes. It made going to chemo on Mondays much better. She will never know how much she helped me and she will never understand or feel how much I love her.
I still had the fourth red devil to deal with. The fourth one is the worst. Poppal had a convention in Destin, Florida the weekend following the last red devil. I didn't even make it to the fourth treatment before I had to be rushed to the Cancer Center dehydrated and sick. I was hooked up for fluids for the next two days. Mudder and I made plans to spend the last treatment in Florida. I didn't know if I was going to make it. I got the fourth red devil treatment on Monday and we left on Thursday. I barely remember driving down there. We stayed at the Bayside Resort. I did a lot of laying around. I could barely walk I was so sick. We took a trip to Walmart in Destin. I thought I was feeling up to it. Once I got there, I thought I was going to have to call an ambulance. I was so weak and nausea. I told her I needed to go right away. At that moment, I was at my lowest. I could have laid down in the floor of Walmart. I thought I was going to die. I thought we were going to have to go to the hospital there in Destin. The pain sent me into a panic attack and made me cry. I had to dose myself up. Mudder had to sleep with me two days just to make sure I was still breathing. I could barely eat, drink or take a shower. Luckily, I had Poppal. He made sure I was hydrated and was okay to stay there. We did manage to do some walking around and some shopping the last day we were there.
The remaining four treatments were a breeze compared to the previous four. They even gave me meds to sleep through most of them. I did not have severe side effects like I did with the first four. It was actually nice to go there and nap. The only downside was that the treatments took four hours.
I have to say, during all of my treatments, my blood count never went down to an unnormal count. It always stayed right in a healthy range. I was never anemic and I was never sick with a cold. My body stood strong as an ox. It carrid me through being poisoned and would soon carry me through a major surgery.
Stay tuned...
