Bottom of the first hill....

....and I'd like to scream, "STOP the ride I wanna get off!!!"

This morning my hair started to fall out. I have a LOT of hair. Correction, I had a lot of hair. :)

This too shall pass.

Sean, I love you. Thank you for saying the right stuff and meaning it. 

Tonight I will simply say, 

Serenity Prayer- French image, picture by arbycub - Photobucket

Step 2: Start Chemo

I debated about how to title this post, actually I still think it needs work. Since I can't settle on one direction, I am going to go with some emotions and feelings that encompass what starting chemo meant for me. Hopefully, with some stories sprinkled in it will make for a good read!

I shall not fear--there is nothing to fear when you are following your heart. I'm not particularly churchy, but I am grateful for the faith that I learned from my parents. I am especially grateful for those who have allowed God into every inch of their lives so that they have words and sights of Him that I have been struggling with lately (Aunt Maria, your texts and words and smiles and prayers make a difference for me daily. If you've added me to your personal or public prayers I am grateful.) I am afraid of where this path is taking me, and how far it will knock me down, and how I will answer when Elizabeth asks why I am crying now..... BUT I at the same time I am not afraid. Tears are healing, doctors are wise (and when they operate as a team they are a mighty force). I have faith that while the path is bumpy and unclear right now, one foot in front of the other is going to work just fine. (I can even say good night prayers with the kids without tears now--"Good night God. I am going to bed. Work is over. Prayers are said. I am not afraid of night. You will watch 'til morning light. Amen"

Laughter makes you smile--even with a giant needle sticking out of your shoulder. So before I explain the laughter side, I suppose I ought to tell about my first chemo experience.

Chemo itself was remarkably unremarkable. An hour before my appointment, I applied my magic cream and covered it with Press-and-Seal. I said a little prayer that I did it right and covered the port properly so that the poke wouldn't hurt. Mom and I arrived at my oncology doctor's office right on time. I was still a bit sore from the port placement/biopsy surgery, but in good spirits and ready to blast the heck out of this cancer. We were called back quickly, and escorted past a row of recliners to room 2 (I will have to ask about the difference between the areas next time, my guess is that the row is for people who have short treatments or don't have company for the day). After I was weighed and blood pressure taken, Nurse Cheryl came in to start my IV. She explained everything she was doing. She cleansed the port area, and she and Mom had a chuckle about iodine. Something about a dropper bottle of it that you would clean your wound with then put the dropper back into the bottle... I felt like a kid, safe, protected. "Now I am going to stabilize the port. (she put her hand firmly around the port) Take a deep breath and relax." Then there was pressure and Cheryl declared the port working. I cried. Hard tears. Ones that I had been holding for a long time. It was nice to feel protected and safe and scared for that moment.

Then it was time to get down to business. She withdrew a syringe of blood that would be tossed and then a second so she could check my blood count. She brought back my copy of the blood count (my white cells, infection fighters, had been low and I was worried that with both kids on antibiotics that I may have been even lower and then this whole battle would be postponed). I was beyond ecstatic that they were up!!! Cheryl started the pre-drugs (4 total) for anti-nausea, they took a little more than an hour to drip in.  Then it was time, the Adriamycin was red in color and was put into the IV by hand. With promises of technicolor bathroom breaks, one down one to go. Then the Cytoxan was connected to the IV and another hour of dripping. Easy peasy lemon squeezey.

It was just after the good stuff started that I got a text message. It simply said, "Why did the blonde get fired from the M&M factory?" After thinking for a moment, and knowing that I should know the answer, I replied that I had no idea. "She threw out all the W's." Good for a chuckle, but I have to share that my mom had me rolling in a matter of moments. She didn't get it, I really had to explain it. It had been a tough morning, but with that little joke and a good laugh things seemed to lighten up a little.


I get by with a little help from my friends--This is a long one. I have so many friends in big and small ways that deserve thanks that I'm not even going to feign that I am going to get you all. So no hard feelings, please, it is not intentional. Let's start with the ever close Facebook family. Those of you who click like and offer encouraging words, when the world seems quiet a single click reminds me that there are others out there.   Everyone should have friends (well I guess I should really call them colleagues, but it just isn't right) as good as I do. Between the numerous emails of support, the threats of making me go home early, and drive by offers of help (Barry, I may need that one particular offer in the near future) to the forget me not plant that is hopefully getting some sunshine across the hall and fighting its own courageous battle for life; I have truly been blessed with the best staff of friends ever. (I know I say it a lot, but I really mean it!!!) Then there are those that I will never be able to describe my gratitude for properly. Julie and Lisa, your box of chemo treats were a huge treat and reminder to take it easy. (I've finished The Hunger Games.)

Family--Near and far, blood, in-law, tribe..... I think that my favorite family quote from this week is from my Dad, "nothing tougher than a Zupsic." So far, I agree with the assessment. :)

Love doesn’t make the world go round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile.
Franklin P. Jones


I have to include one last story. I am on an antibiotic to help keep my white blood cell count up called Nupogen. It has to be injected, and Sean has pulled the short straw on being the nurse extraordinaire. Elizabeth decided to be his assistant on his first go round. She promised to hold my hand and then disappeared. Sean needed a calmer environment so we went to the basement (that used to have such a different connotation). I was giving him instructions, when Elizabeth quietly slid her hand into mine. Sean said take a deep breath, I reminded him to go at an angle, and a quick second later it was done. Elizabeth quickly unwrapped a Barbie bandaid and covered the poke on my tummy. "All better?" 


Yep, I'm going to be all better soon enough. :)

Step 1: More Tests, Chemo Class, and Port Placement

I have had a rough few Mondays. On the 19th, I spent the day at Oakwood hospital getting more tests. They made me radioactive in nuclear medicine, then I had to drink the magic water in radiology. I was told by radiology to back in an hour for the CT scan, after that test was completed I was sent back to the basement to nuclear medicine for the bone scan. Between the two tests I was asked to lie still for about an hour total. OH, if only that is where that day ended, I was then sent next door to have an MRI of the head. If you've never had this kind of MRI, picture the man in the iron mask only it's plastic. Gratefully this machine was not as closed off (or maybe the room was just brighter) and I had no motion sickness this time!!!

Then I headed over to the oncologist's office to learn about chemo. I learned about how it would be given, what medications I will be given, the side effects.... I will have 8 chemo treatments total, since they are to be given every other week it will take 16 weeks to complete the 2 series. My medications will be given through an IV (actually a port, but more on that in a moment). I will do 4 treatments of "AC" and then 4 treatments of "Taxol." I will also be given Herceptin (for a year) since my cancer is HER2+. Then there are the side effects... the obvious few: fatigue, nausea, vomiting, hairloss and then the less obvious: mouth sores, constipation or diarrhea, dry mouth, extra dry skin, disruption to menstrual cycle, reduced sperm count....

Then came the prescriptions that I have to take here at home, with instructions that were more complicated than what can be put onto a label by the pharmacy. I have a feeling that I will no longer suck at taking my medicine. Especially the numbing cream so it doesn't hurt when they poke the needle into my chemo port.

(I apologize that this post is all over the place I feel like I have had so much going on that chronology is failing me.)

One of the most interesting parts of my chemo class was learning about the port that I had installed yesterday. It is a small disk with a silicone button on top and a thin tube at the bottom. It was surgically placed on my left side (near the clavicle) and the tube is inside a major vein. When I go for chemo they will just poke into the silicone and get/give what they need directly to my blood stream.

Thursday afternoon found me with another trip to Oakwood's Nuclear Medicine for a MUGA test and then to cardiology for an EKG. I would like to take this moment to say that of all the places that I have visited in the Oakwood system (and there have been many in the past year) I would gladly go to nuclear medicine again. First reason, they were nice. Second, they looked and sounded like they got along very well (lots of laughing and lots of smiles and conversations). Third, their waiting room was comfortable and quiet. And finally, they recognized me. I like it when people look at you and say hi in a way that says I know I've seen you recently, I really don't remember why/when, but its nice to see you again.

(oooooh I think I might need 4 posts today, Saturday and sunday adventures don't belong here.)

SO, let me tell you about another adventure in surgery... Monday, March 26, I had my chemo port placed and a sentinel node biopsy. I had to get to the hospital at 8:00 to register for surgery, then I had to go back to nuclear medicine to become radioactively dyed. The kind nurse in nuc med brought me back to the room and had me put on a lovely hospital gown. Then she squirted numbing cream on my right breast and   had me rub it in (she could have been a contender, but gave up the chance for groper #15). Then she went to get the doctor who came in, fondled the lump (making him #15), then he signed my chest and poked me 4 times with the radioactive dye. (I have to add to this section that I now have 3 pieces of paper to carry with me if I leave the country so that I don't upset any authorities with my radioactive self. AND I plan to turn into a math lesson in the next chapter for my seniors--if med #1 has a half-life of ___ and they gave me _____, how long does that mean it will be in my system.)

Then we were taken to the surgical wing, and I was brought back to be prepped. Nurse Jim and I had a good chuckle over putting in my IV (he offered me the chance to do it myself, as a joke, and I passed on that opportunity) We got to chatting about kids and school, he almost forgot to go get Sean. Then I was accused of being high maintenance when I said I was cold, and another nurse threatened to put a Justin Beiber tattoo on me during surgery. Since it was 10am when I was prepped and ready and Sean was finally back at my side we had an hour and a half to listen to the drama around us. I think we may have been the only people laughing in the area. The lady across the hall sounded like Large Marge (from PeeWee's adventure) the lady to the right of my curtain got up to pee 4 times and asked if she was going to feel anything while she was out. Then they brought in a woman who was to have her leg amputated, but that one didn't make us laugh. Diagonal from us they brought in a woman who was taking so much medicine that the nurse had to come back to talk to her because she had missed a page. Then there were the nurses who talk too loudly and the visitors who walked by... By the time it was my turn (nearly 1pm) we had laughed a lot.

(Insert Sean's adventures in waiting here)(AKA manning the phones for updates/progress reports)

Then there is the recovery room. I had a really hard time waking up, that is until they wheeled in a crazy lady next to me. She must have been the kind of person who doesn't listen to directions because she was ornery enough to wake my butt up and do everything in my power to get out. She was loud and whiny. She didn't understand that she was asking the nurse to do exactly what she was doing. It was a good thing that they finally let Sean come back because I was awake enough (and sore enough) to start shouting back  at her. All I wanted to say was, "shut up you stupid cow and listen to what they are telling you to do." Sean kept giving me the evil eye so I kept my mouth closed. (If my friend Kelly had been there instead, we might have ended up in BIG trouble.) Instead, we focused on getting out of there and in telling my nurse that we are certain that she had been my nurse last year when I had my appendectomy.

I guess this means that I am officially on the road to kicking breast cancer ass. First chemo treatment is Thursday! I'm scared and nervous. BUT I am brave and I am strong! And with the help of my friends and family I will win!

First Week is in the Books

I survived, but it only seems right to include that I barely survived. I am grateful that I have a kind and patient husband (oooh and add understanding, definitely add understanding) who can roll with the punches, friends who are supportive, and administrators who put their money where their mouth is when they say family first. This week was the week that fought back.

So let's decode that first paragraph!
Sean gets the Superparent award for the week.

• Tuesday, he voluntarily took the kids Back-to-School clothes shopping. Where he discovered why I depend on my mother to do a lot of the clothes shopping for the kids. It isn't financial dependence, it's mildly therapeutic for her and it keeps me from having a mental breakdown. Moms simply know how hard it is to contain the wild (although seemingly less wild than other children) beasts and actually look at what is going into the cart. 
• Wednesday, he got to take E to her first day of kindergarten. I have yet to see the pictures, but I'm sure they were all adorable. He reports that she had a few tears going in, but was all smiles coming out. AND there have been no "I don't want to go to school," tears so we will consider it a successful start to the school years. 
• Thursday, my FIL gave us the biggest scare when he took an unexpected trip. Sean managed to call the police/EMS, think he was going find his dad dead, listen to the police call all the area hospitals for a John Doe that matched Dad's description, shed a few tears, AND keep a very intuitive 5 year old from knowing anything was wrong. Did I mention that all of those things happened before 8:00am and Sean still got her to school on time? Superdad.
• AND I have come home late every night, worked on the couch until all hours, and barely managed to hear the answer to, "How was your day?"
• I LOVE YOU!!!!

You can never praise your friends too often. Julie and Kelly this one's for you! I have been thinking of you.

As for my administrators, HOLY CRAP do I work with some great people! Although I am fairly certain that my insanity is forever going to be the new guy's impression of me. (See Thursday bullet point above and adjust for "I must get home, find this old man, and I am not ready for a sub on day 2 of the school year.") They simply said, "family first," and found someone to help me out.

I survived the first week, barely.