The fatigue caught up with me today. I made it through work and ended up taking a late afternoon nap. I really dislike days when I’m feeling unproductive, but I realize it’s going to happen. It seems like the 2nd and 3rd days after chemo are my hardest ones.
I’ve never been one to nap, but I’m going to try to embrace it when I need them. It helps that our pups like to cuddle in with me. I’m thankful for that. I’m also thankful that the fatigue isn’t constant yet. After a couple of days, I know it will get better.
Today I’m thankful for my in-laws. Every chemo day, Patrick’s parents have sent us something wonderful. The first treatment was a beautiful bouquet that I can’t believe I don’t have a picture of. I really thought I took one, but no. I do remember it well; it had seeded eucalyptus and soft lavender roses. It was so lovely. The last couple of treatments were edible arrangements. The first included brownies and the second included chocolate covered fruit. Yum!
The truth is, my in-laws are always very generous and giving. They’re eager to help or support anyway they can. But even more than that, they’ve been great at making me feel part of the family from the beginning.
I have to admit, when Patrick and I started dating, I had my fears. I’m older than he is by not a little bit. My kids were teenagers already. In fact, one of the first things I asked him when we got more serious was if he was sure he shouldn’t be dating someone younger. Someone who could give him beautiful babies. But he’s stubborn.
Then I got pregnant and had a miscarriage, and my fears grew. I hated that I was taking his option for his own family away from him. But he said it wasn’t a deal breaker. He’s dedicated.
And here I am, dragging him through cancer with me. One more hardship and difficult year of worry. But he’s been protective and supportive and says it’s just one more thing we will get through. He’s strong.
Through it all, my in-laws never expressed any doubt, at least to me, that I wasn’t anything but deserving of their son. They’ve happily included me in their lives from the beginning. I worried that they’d see me as someone too old and with too much history to be right for Patrick. But my worry was all mine. I guess I should have known for they taught him by example to be stubborn, dedicated, and strong. I’m thankful for them. And grateful to be part of the family.
I’m not going to lie, today was a crappy day. It started with an unexpected email and went downhill from there. Bad news upon bad news—not all mine, but news from friends that was really awful. And the actual news? I don’t even want to go there. Why do some days just pile it on??
It’s days like this that make me want to give in to my pessimistic side. But then I remember that finding gratitude doesn’t mean faking happiness. It means finding something in the darkness to keep holding onto so hope doesn’t completely disappear.
Today, I had a conversation with my genetic counselor and thankfully, all the important genetic markers came back negative for cancer. While I don’t seem to have a genetic risk for breast or other cancers, I do have an increase risk that cancer could reoccur in my other breast simply because of my family history. Our conversation confirmed my choice to have a bi-lateral mastectomy instead of removing only one side. It was good to have that affirmed.
I was also thankful today for a small gesture from Patrick. Before I started chemo, he cleared out a shelf in one of our kitchen cabinets and stocked it with items we thought I might like if I was feeling lousy—some Mac’ n cheese cups, hot chocolate, jello, canned green beans (weird, but I like them) and a few other things. And since my taste has changed, he’s been very conscious about trying to find foods that will work for me. When he did a quick shopping trip today, he sent me pictures of things I may like so I could let him know what to buy. He even brought home a container of animal crackers, which I love!
While it’s been difficult today, I know it’s just a bad day out of many days. I’m grateful for a bit of good news and a thoughtful husband. And I hope I was a good friend to those who needed one today.
Over the last few days, my mouth has felt slightly numb, and it’s become obvious that my taste has changed. They talk about developing a metallic taste from chemo, but I can’t say that’s what I’m noticing. It’s just that things taste off or don’t taste as good as I expect. It’s a bummer. Even my beloved popsicles are bland.
Today, one of my most established friends (I hate saying oldest but we did meet in grade school!) had dinner delivered to us from a local Italian restaurant. It was a much appreciated gift, and amazingly, the lasagna tasted like lasagna! Maybe Italian will be my new go-to.
What was even better was that Patrick also appreciated the break from cooking, as much as he likes to cook. He joked that he now knew how it felt just to sit down to a meal already made, so I threatened to start cooking now that my taste wasn’t right. We both know that won’t happen. He really does love cooking too much.
Hopefully, this change in taste won’t last forever. But I’m thankful today for my friend’s gift of dinner and the enjoyment we got from it.
Today, I’m thankful for the small, every day things. When chemo fatigue gets heavy, it’s nice to settle into the normal. A typical work day. A FaceTime chat with my mom and sisters. A simple dinner and cuddling on the sofa with my pups.
Today was the day. I shaved my head. Or more accurately, Patrick shaved my head. I’ve actually been losing my hair over the last several days, but I refused to shave it prior to my second chemo treatment. I was told it was after the second one that I would most likely lose it, so I was disappointed when I noticed it earlier. I was keeping it through the second treatment out of principle.
First off let me say that losing your hair is difficult to describe. It’s weird. I thought I was prepared but I’m not sure anyone really is. Running my fingers through my hair resulted in a fistful of strands. Eventually, I’d notice hair hanging lower than others and if I tugged on it, it would pull out in clumps.
And brushing?! Holy cow. I could make small animals with what came out. This was from one gentle brushing yesterday.
Yikes!
Today I couldn’t wait any longer. I felt like PigPen and his dust cloud only mine was a cloud of fallen hair everywhere. On my clothes, on my desk, in every plate of food. It was time to get rid of it.
Am I ready?
I turned on All American Girl by Melissa Etheridge which felt fitting for the moment as well as the day and Patrick got started. This is another thing I can honestly say I never expected to be doing, but here we are.
I actually thought it would be funny to let it fall out naturally just to send funny progression photos to my family. If you met my family, you’ll understand. We all enjoy a good laugh, especially at each other’s expense. Which may sound mean, but my family is also fiercely protective of each other when necessary, so it’s a good balance. If my scalp didn’t hurt from the hair pulling, the slow fallout may have happened. The photo album would have been epic too because I’m pretty sure one side was losing it faster than the other. I already had one bald spot on the top.
Who wore it better?!
To stand in solidarity, Patrick asked me to shave his head too. It was such a sweet gesture, and I can’t even adequately express how much it means to me. I’m blessed to have him on my side. Losing my hair isn’t easy, but I’m thankful today to have this milestone over. It’s just hair and it will grow back one day. In the meantime, I get to play with wigs and hats and scarves. Fun!
Today was more difficult than I was anticipating. I had an appointment early in the morning to meet my plastic surgeon and go over reconstruction options. Although it’s not 100% necessary, I’m leaning towards a bilateral mastectomy. I really don’t want the worry that cancer could return in what I leave behind.
My plastic surgeon is nice. He specializes in this area and has his own family history of dealing with breast cancer, so he has an understanding of how overwhelming things can be. He mentioned more than once that I could call his office at any time with any question and that ultimately I was in charge of what I wanted. His explanations were thorough, his suggestions made sense, and he seems very capable.
I’m not sure what my expectations were. I expected that they may have to take photos. I guess I wasn’t expecting that they’d be taken in a room with bright lights and a backdrop, like class picture day. Standing with my hands by my sides, naked torso, turning at intervals while the female nurse photographed me wasn’t what I had imagined. I expected that the doctor would want to examine me. I may have even expected it when he took out a white eyeliner to draw on my body to show me where the incisions would be made. What pieces of me would need to disappear. When he turned me to the mirror so I could see myself as he explained what he would need to do, I didn’t expect to feel so sad. So vulnerable.
By the time we talked through the timeline, it finally sank in how long this process of being cured to being made something akin to whole again will take. Reconstruction won’t happen until all my treatments are done. Chemo will take until June. A mastectomy will follow and the recovery time is 6-8 weeks. At best, that take me to August. Radiation will follow…how quickly and for how long now will be a discussion with the radiologist next week. Originally, that was going to be many weeks. I suspect reconstruction will begin at best October, maybe November. The type of reconstruction my doctor suggested will be two-phased. If I’m lucky, I’ll start the new year with a new look.
It’s daunting and overwhelming, and honestly, I felt a bit sorry for myself when I got home. I was angry and tired and so damn disappointed again. And then you know what happened? Patrick reminded me that we’re in it together and we’ll get through it one step at a time. And then a friend sent me a funny text and made me laugh. And another friend texted saying she had left something at our front door, which contained among several things, coffee-scented room oil and bubble gum flavored lip balm, which is Ah-mazing. Then I grabbed some candy from the gift basket a friend dropped off the other day that I didn’t even tell you guys about because you would be SO JEALOUS of its awesomeness. And I realized once again how loved and supported I am and that’s all that really matters anyway. Thankfully, gratefully, I will get through this year.
I had a follow-up appointment with my surgeon today. It was mainly to check the healing of my port and lymph node incisions, which I’m happy to report are healing “very” well (doctor’s words). Since this was the first time I’ve had a chance to talk to him since my surgery, I took the opportunity to ask a couple of very important questions. First and foremost, when can I wear deodorant again? I mean, really. One incision is right under my armpit and for the last couple of weeks, I’ve been using deodorant only on one side. Thankfully, I’m not doing manual labor, so it’s not gross, but it’s weird. Seems I’m clear to use “a little” unless it becomes irritating. Yay! Small victory.
My second question was more of a confession. I wanted to know how to avoid the embarrassing recovery phase next time I have surgery. See, I have constant sinus issues and the morning of my surgery, I had been having a lot of sinus drainage. I was intubated and when I woke, I immediately had a hard time breathing because of the drainage left behind. I’ll avoid being specific, but for hours I struggled to cough up or swallow down the phlegm in my throat. Full disclosure, choking is probably top of my fear list. Needless to say, the longer the feeling persisted, the higher my anxiety went. At one point, I started a cough that sounded more like a high-pitched dog bark. The recovery nurse consulted an anesthesiologist, and I was given a breathing treatment and steroids to help reduce the swelling in my throat. FINALLY, I was able to go home. It still took me three days to be able to eat and drink without fear.
My surgeon didn’t know all the details, but I laid it out honestly for him. I know it was mostly me. I admitted that I wouldn’t have been surprised if Xanax was the next thing they were going to give me in recovery. But I want to be prepared for next time. Sadly for me, it appears they can’t just suction all the crap out of my throat after surgery. Sadly, I’ll need to be intubated for the next surgery as well. But thankfully, he listened. And not only that, he put in my chart details that made my experience sound medical and normal. There’s also a note to discuss with the next anesthesiologist. Victory!
Listening is really an underrated skill. Sometimes, just hearing what someone is saying can do wonders for lessening a burden. I’m still thankful I won’t have surgery again for months, but in the meantime, I’m thankful I have good doctors.
You guys! I wish I felt like celebrating. I am happy to report that today is day one of my cancer cure.
I had my first chemo treatment. I’m not going to lie; I was nervous. After almost two hours of blood draws and port flushes and anti-nauseous drips that took over half an hour to administer, my nurse, Sister Rose, came back into my room in a special blue gown. She donned not one, but two layers of gloves, and then proceeded to handle the chemo drugs that had been specially made for me when I arrived. The first ones were red vials. She said she had to manually push them into my port IV because she needed to periodically check the blood draw. This stuff is what is sometimes referred to as the red devil. I told her it looked like jello shots. While she laughed, I suspect she said an extra prayer for me today. After two vials of the stuff, I got another IV bag drip of a different kind of chemo. Both have similar side effects: nausea is top of the list, hence all the extra drugs; low blood counts, so I’ll go in tomorrow for a booster shot to help produce white blood cells; fatigue (already feeling it!); cardiac damage, which is why I had a heart test prior; and hair loss (my crowning glory!). There are of course a myriad of other things, like skin rashes and mouth sores and extremity numbness/tingling, that may come along.
Me in the home stretch. I was so glad not to have to wear that mask the entire time!
But honestly, right now, I’m just thrilled to have made it through. So far so good. I entered a clinical trial for added nausea medication; maybe I got it, maybe I didn’t. Either way, things are working. I’m tired but I’m now 1 down, 15 more to go. And I’ll handle things day by day, grateful for a cure.
When I was about 8 or 9, my family saw both Jaws and Piranha one night at an outdoor theater. I spent the next week or two deathly afraid of the bathtub. Or any puddle of water deeper than an inch. I always had a rather active imagination, and as a child, my imagination regularly worked against me. My dad, who was an engineer, finally sat me down one day and forced me to consider in detail the error of my thinking. How could something as large as a shark make its way through small pipes and into our tub? Staring into the light of logic, I had to admit that it couldn’t.
I’ve always had a comfortable relationship with my body. For a modicum of effort on my part, I expected it to get me through every day as I saw fit. If I wanted to spontaneously dance, I would. If I wanted to run through the snow with the pups, I would. If I wanted to push a piece of furniture from one room into another, I would. But when the call came that the biopsy of my left breast showed cancer, I immediately felt like my body turned against me. I lay in bed at night and inched my arm away from my side. I wanted my turncoat breast to stay away from other parts of me. How dare it defect? I did nothing but support it since it showed up 40 years ago. In some weird way, I felt like I didn’t know myself anymore. Where else was the cancer? Every issue I’ve had in the last 5 years became suspect. Every otherwise normal ache and pain became related. I felt like dead woman walking. It’s then that I heard my dad’s voice from so many years ago telling me, Melissa, you are your own worst enemy.
It’s funny how our minds can control us in such powerful ways. I’ve always loved being imaginative. Being creative brings me joy. However, I’ve been reminded regularly throughout my life that being stuck in my head can work against me. I don’t think I’m alone in that. Focusing too much on a problem doesn’t necessarily solve it. Sometimes it just makes it worse. While I believe that I’m intelligent and resourceful and a problem solver, I also know that sometimes I need to stop listening to my own voice and instead listen to others who can maybe see something differently than I.
I started this blog again as a way for me to look out. To get outside my head and look for the moments in my day that are more worthy of my attention. I asked others to join me in this gratitude journey as a way of sharing what I was going through and maybe helping someone else along the way look for their own moments. I didn’t expect to hear so many, many words of encouragement, support, and strength. Today I’m so very grateful for all of your voices. They helped drown out my own.
melissagratitude 