Cancer Whiplash

So sorry for the silence the last three months. In one sense it feels just like yesterday and in the next it feels like a life time since I posted last. First, and foremost, I would like to share that in the words of my oncologist, "Everything appears clear". I hung on every word during that appointment in October. I was so relieved to hear those words but I must admit they didn't release the fear and anxiety. After I completed radiation, my dry, annoying cough "re-appeared" and to be quite honest it scared the crap out of me. This is how it all began. July 2010. A cough. And you know the rest of the story. Turning over my anxieties and fears have been hard. It's hard for me not to fear the worst with every little cough. I realized that although I had come to the end of my treatment, I was paralyzed. I didn't know what to do with myself, my time. I was so used to having a plan. A plan that included my active participation in appointments, labs, scans. It was best described to me as cancer whiplash. From the time of diagnosis through treatment you're in fight or flight mode. Going from one step to the next. Then it's over. And you wait. And you wait. And you learn to live again. I had pushed my emotions aside when I was in fight or flight mode and when the day to day stuff ended it came over me like a tidal wave. It's hard to share all of this but I am in the hopes that it will help someone else. I realized that I was emotionally and mentally slipping. I was supposed to be happy. To celebrate. Live like I don't have cancer. And I wanted to so bad but I didn't and it scared me. The past few months I have sought support in helping me deal with the emotions that come at the end of cancer treatment. In addition to my oncologist I am also under the care of a naturopath who specializes in cancer treatment and could quite honestly hold a masters in psychology. The first time I met with her I was a blubbering idiot. I couldn't sort my thoughts. I didn't know what was wrong, I just knew something was off. I wasn't sure what was going on. Was I losing my mind? Did the temporary menopause throw me out of whack? Was I crazy? She listened and we came up with a plan. I am reading some books, altering my diet, trying some remedies to bring me back to balance (after checking my labs we discovered my cortisol levels were totally out of whack, my fight or flight was depleted). At her urging I also went to the Arizona Wellness Community and have joined a support group with other cancer fighters/survivors. It's a great mix of ages, types/stages of cancers and personalities that help bring great perspective and balance to my personal healing process. I spend two hours every Tuesday with my new friends. We talk, we laugh, we cry. We have a facilitator who is a licensed psychologist who helps guide the conversation when needed but with the ecclectic group we have we rarely need that! We come to talk and that's just what we do. I feel normal with the group. I have learned that my thoughts are normal and I'm learning how to process them in a healthy way. It's working but I'm not quite there yet. I keep waiting for life to go back to how it was before the big c word but I am learning to accept that that will never be. I have a new reality. What does that mean? How will I cope with life now? Ah, the joys of life as a cancer fighter. Each day is better but there are definitely bumps in the road. Most recently, after several prescriptions for steroids, inhalers, cough suppressants I ended up in the ER on Sunday morning after talking with my oncologist (who happened to be the doc on call). He wanted another chest x-ray and ct scan as I felt like I was unable to get a full breath and my coughing attacks were getting more intense. Everything was as expected - my lungs have scar tissue that has built up because of one of the chemo drugs I was on and the radiation I received - and there was no acute concerns. Good news. Frustrating news. I am over having a cough. I followed up with my oncologist yesterday and my pulmonologist and naturopath today. I am so glad they're all on the same page, that is hard to find when mixing specialties and styles but I am blessed by what I would consider an all-star group! We're going back to the basics. I need to have patience and give my body time to heal. I have scar tissue. It may or may not be causing the increased cough. I'm off of all steroids and inhalers. We're going to try keeping it simple for awhile and I'm so glad. Phew, well, that was a quick synopsis of where I've been. Over the next few weeks I'll dive in to some specifics of the past few months. I have much to be thankful for! As it stands now I am cleared to have surgery to have my port removed and I anticipate that happening before the end of the year. That's a sure sign things are going well! Thank you to all of you who have continued to pray for me and check in and I apologize to those of you that I've taken my sweet time getting back to. I have been in a bit of a funk but I'm shaking it off! :)

Back in the saddle again...

Or should I say back on the cold metal table again? Either way, my throat feels back to 100% after taking last week off. I started radiation again on Monday and so far, so good, although the doctor warned me today that my throat may get sore one last time before we're done. As of now I only have 3 more treatments and I'll be good to go! I am so excited. Today I had the tech take pictures so all of you (my loyal friends and family!) can see in pictures what I have tried to describe in words.

This first picture gives a pretty broad perspective of the room. My feet are in a large rubberband to help prevent me from moving and I am in a hospital gown because I am undressed from the waist up. A light comes out of the piece of machinery above me that they use to line up with my tattoos. Yes, I am the proud owner of two new tattoos. They are small and located in the middle of my chest.

Once I am lined up the tech leaves the room and a bunch of clicking and zapping occurs. The machinery rotates around the table a couple of times as the treatment is given.

As I've described with such endearing and affectionate terms before...here is an upclose and personal shot of The Mask. Although it may look soft and pliable it is in fact solid plastic. Once I am lined up and in place, they use the bindings on the sides of my head to lock me into place. This is me in my "happy place" or atleast that's what I tell myself.


So, as I said before, only 3 more times of this lovely gig and I'm done. The Mask will be mine when I am finished and I'm debating whether I should keep it or crush it to pieces! :)

Radiation

I began to experience slight discomfort in my throat at the end of last week but knew it was something I could manage. As I went into the weekend the discomfort began to increase when I tried to swallow and by Sunday afternoon I had reached my limit. The liquid Vicodin I was taking didn't touch the pain so Monday morning I called the doctors office. In the back of my mind I knew what the suggestion would be but I tried to convince myself that there may be other possibilities. Painful swallowing? Yes. Blood in sputum? Yes. Choking on spit? Yes. These answers guided me to postponing this weeks treatments and I had a meltdown. I want to be done with all of this. Cross the finish line and never look back. I was given a prescription for Percocet and sent home to crush the pills and do my best to manage the pain. This was not in my plans, it postpones my finish line. After crying harder than I've cried since this journey began, I felt better. The irrational thoughts I was thinking began to fade and I knew I'd be okay. Just another little bump in the road that I can and will handle. The medication has taken the edge off and I'm anticipating being able to go back in for radiation treatments next week. In the meantime, I am focusing on accepting the fact that I don't write all of the rules and control all of the plans. On Sunday in church the pastor said something that has stuck with me, "The difference between hope and despair is faith.". I continue to have faith that I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

Graeagle is...

...spending time with the newest member of the family...

...having my aunt play the "C" card on my behalf...

...using the Star Walk app at 5000'...

...golf for all ages...

...learning to ride a bike...

...wagon rides...

...passing out in the hammock...

...Sudoku and crossword puzzles...

...perfecting your ladder golf toss...

...being surrounded by mountains...

...celebrating birthdays and the sweet, sweet music of Taylor Swift...

...enjoying sunrises from the mountain top...

...having my Grandpa wear my wig...

...seeing a bear!...

...nature walks with my aunt...

...sister time at the river...

...an afternoon treat at Frostee...

...the gift of a lifetime...

My Grandma

I know that most of you are waiting to hear about my trip to Graeagle and how the start of radiation has gone but the thing that is on my mind right now is my Grandma. My cannonball Grandma, Grandma Joan. Two years ago today she passed away and boy do I miss her. My Grandma and I had alot of things in common, that's not something every granddaughter can say. The sun, Graeagle, "luck", laughing and cannonballs to name a few. She loved to photograph barns, cows and landscape. She learned to paint in her later years - flowers, scenery and us grandkids. She taught me to drive a stick (although she wasn't a very good teacher because I was the only grandkid to FAIL Grandpa's test). I miss her Bugs Bunny face and her laugh that turned into a squeal and then a warning that she may wet her pants! I love how competitive she was..."Whack-A-Mole", golf, Sudoku, hula-hooping...nothing stood between her and a win! I love how she addressed my cards Jen(nifer). I love how I have a voicemail of her saying, "Don't forget the buttwiper.". I love how when I would mention I had lost or misplaced something she would say a prayer over the phone to St. Anthony and anxiously wait for me to report I had found it. I'm sure having to hear of my cancer diagnosis would have crushed her but in the same moment she would have provided comfort. Comfort only a Grandma can. I love you Grandma.

The thing that amazes me is that all of these pictures were taken just a week before she died. So inspiring...

Disconnecting to Re-Connect

Well, my day has arrived. I leave for Graeagle in just a few hours and I can't wait! I'll be taking a break from the electronic world so I can focus on quality time with my family and quiet time to myself. I will be sure to take tons of pictures to share when I get back. Graeagle, here I come!!!

Good News (The Details)

So Wednesday brought about two appointments. One for my PET scan and one for my radiation simulation. I was scheduled to have them at separate times but when I was getting my I.V. for the PET scan done the tech said they could coordinate both tests so I wouldn't have to come back in the afternoon. I was very appreciative of her efforts (atleast before I knew what was coming!). Just like my last PET scan I was left in a dimly lit, quiet room for about 45 minutes while the radiotracer circulated through my body. When my time was up another tech led me to the familiar room and I hopped up on the table, a little anxious to get things done and at the same time at ease because I knew what was to come (or so I thought). I knew things may be a little more complicated when they but a giant rubber band around my feet so the chance of my legs moving was reduced. Last time they trusted me not to move, this time, not so much. After a few minutes I knew why. With my legs banded together and my arms firmly at my sides they proceeded to maneuver my head into a hard plastic brace so that my chin was pointed high into the sky and my neck was extended. Ok. This was manageable, not comfortable, but manageable. With not much warning other than, "Don't move! We're going to place a mold over your face that will go from a liquid to solid state. Just relax.". Uh, what? Before I could ask a question that's exactly what they did. A piece of what appeared to be pantyhose/drywall form dipped in warm white silly putty was placed over my face, from the top of my head down past my chin. Manageable. The edges of this contraption were metal and were promptly clamped down on each side of my head, near my ears. Ummmm, manageable? They were kind enough to "pinch" the spots over each eyelid - this would come in handy for me about 15 minutes later. As they were giving me the final instructions on how important it was that I not move I felt a wave of panic and flung my arm out (wanting to test whether I could break free if necessary!) and proceeded to hit the male tech just close enough to his "family jewels" to make him scream, "Whoa! Hey now!". Sorry dude. You just bungeed my legs together, put a contraption over my face that I can't move and you're getting ready to leave the room so you can slide me into a tube. You're lucky I didn't have better aim! I knew I would need to relax if I was going to live. Seriously my heart rate was high and the test was just beginning. Click, click. Into the tube I went. I could open my eyes but couldn't see anything. Panic. I hear Whitney Houston singing, "OOHhhh I wanna dance with somebody...". I can relax to that. In and out of the tube I went all the while the contraption on my face is beginning to take shape. I have moments of panic and moments of bliss. More songs are played and just when I think I can't take anymore I hear the door open and the tech says, "Just 10 more minutes and I can take the mask off. You ok?". Dude, I can't talk. Remember? I let out a grunt. He interprets that as a "yes" and leaves the room. 10 minutes means 3 more songs. I can do this. I try to put myself to sleep. It doesn't work but I try. He finally comes in again (mind you this has been a good 30 minutes from when we started) and I am so relieved to feel him undoing the clamps. He says it is crucial that I not move because the scan is not over but that I can talk if I want. He lifts the mask off and without thinking or hesitation I say, "That is the shittiest thing ever!". He apologizes and leaves the room so the scan can be finished. When I got out to my car I realized I had my camera and snapped this picture trying to show how much pressure was on my face while the mold was setting. This is about 20 minutes after we are done.

I met with Dr. K2 yesterday to go over my bloodwork and PET scan. The results are good. The larger of the masses has shrunk down considerably and he feels that the remaining spots are mostly scar tissue. The results are consistent with what a post chemo Hodgkin's patient would have. He was pleased and so was I. I will be receiving 3 weeks of radiation at an average dose (24 for 5 minutes) and getting another PET scan the second week in October. In the meantime I will get my port flushed (I hate going in the chemo room but it's only for about 10 minutes) every 6 weeks and work on getting back into shape so that my lungs will heal up faster. After I see Dr. K2 in October I am hoping to get clearance to have surgery to remove my port. All around good news. I'm not completely in the clear yet but yesterday was a big day and I am relieved to be moving in the right direction.

My ears continue to bother me so I am trying over the counter medication and hoping they clear up fast although Dr. K2 says it may be a couple months. I also received the o.k. to have my teeth cleaned - I'm hoping this week! And in case you're wondering, the mask that was created will be worn by me every radiation treatment. I'm hoping now that it's in a solid state it won't be so bad. I'll let you know!

I am so thankful for the calls, texts and emails checking up on me. I am blessed beyond words. Please continue to pray that my body continues to heal. Please also pray for my friends and their families who continue to fight their own battles against this horrific disease. Thank you.

"I am not skilled to understand what God hath willed, what God hath planned. I only know at His right hand stands one who is my Savior." - Dorothy Greenwell 1873

Good News

I know some of you have been waiting to find out how my appointment with my oncologist went and I will write more tomorrow but in short, it was good news! The remaining spots have gone done in size that is consistant with post chemo Hodgkin's. I will be doing 3 weeks of radiation beginning the second week in August. I will fill you in on the PET scan, radiation simulation (yikes!) and today's appointment sometime tomorrow. For now, it's lights out! Thank you for the continued prayers, they are working.

Grateful For Today, Hopeful For Tomorrow

As the old Ice Cube song goes, "...today was a good day...". In fact, it was a great day. It was stocked full of nothing but goodness but I have this underlying current about what lies ahead. But first, let me share the goodness because these are the things I want to (and should!) focus on. Since I woke up this morning the following has occurred:

* A visit from some of my "favorite" clients. The wife is currently battling breast cancer and she took time out of her day to check on me! Love them!
* Another set of clients mailed me a very sweet, somewhat overwhelming gift and letter. I am blessed by their generosity.
* A visit with one of my "cancer angels". I so enjoy our talks and the laughs and encouragement we share.
* Not a single sour cherry in the handful I grabbed at lunch. Hey! Sometimes it's the little things :)
* Because of the AWESOME manager I work with I was nominated for and received the "Distinguished Professional" award at work today. How cool is that?!? I owe an entire post to Theresa and the rest of my office buddies and how they have helped me through this.
* A text from my sister. Just because.
* A note from my "oldest" friend, Allisa, with envelope artwork by her son, Jack. And the voicemail I received later in the day that had both of their voices and laughter.
* Listening to the excitement in my Goddaughter Blakely's voice as she shared she, "Go pee in potty!". Seriously kids melt my heart.

I know, I am blessed. I was thinking of all of these things as I drove home tonight and was overwhelmed. Yet, there was something else there and I was mad at myself for thinking about anything negative when I have so much goodness in my life. I'm learning (definitely a work in progress!) how to feel my emotions and not just bottle them up or dismiss them. So, in my madness I cried and laughed and punched my steering wheel and thoroughly freaked out the people in traffic around me, I'm sure of it! Being behind the wheel is probably not the best time to practice my new skills but whatever, I did and I lived and so did they. After my freak out session I came to the realization that I'm nervous for this weeks appointments and I'm tired of thinking about the next thing. I'm nervous about my PET scan tomorrow morning and the radiation simulator tomorrow afternoon and getting bloodwork done after that. And just for shits and giggles I'll throw in the port flush and results appointment on Friday. I don't want to think about another appointment. I can't wait to be done with all of this.

Thank you all so much for being my support system. Please pray for a clear scan tomorrow. I really am grateful for today and hopeful for tomorrow.

Moving On

Sorry for the little lull in posts but you know the old saying, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."? Well, I was sticking to it. I do not want to take away from the excitement of finishing my last chemo treatment last Tuesday because believe me, I'm excited to be done, but it was a rough one. Gabi kept me company and I was grateful for that. I had a good visit with Dr. K2 and his nurse practitioner and was willing to do almost anything to stall going into the chemo room! This included, but was not limited to, discussing weight, travel and determining whether or not I have bronchitis. Turns out they thought I have been, am, will be, whatever, fighting off a little bronchitis so I walked out with additional prescriptions and a reminder to sleep with a humidifier. This did not keep me from the chemo room. Dang!

Anyway, I went out with a bang for my last chemo. The poor nurse (and another who checked to be sure) was able to access my port but got no blood return. Because of the type of chemo I receive they have to have a good blood return before administering the drugs (they want to be sure the drugs are going into my bloodstream and being immediately diluted because of side effects). They thought it was due to a hematoma so I had two choices - have a drug administered for 30-60 minutes that would dissolve the hematoma or have the chemo administered through my hand. I chose the additional drug.

The side effects seemed to be a little harsher this time. I think part of it had to due with the additional medications I am on for the bronchitis. In addition to the "typical" hot flashes, full ears and nausea I noticed my hands, feet and mouth have been more sensitive. I can't wait for all of this to pass. It's getting better but I'm not quite there yet. Something else that I haven't really discussed but know is causing some of my sweet (read: rollercoaster) mood swings is temporary menopause. I haven't really discussed it because it's not one of my favorite topics but unfortunately I think it is here. I have mixed feelings (literally!) about this side effect. Part of me is excited not to have to deal with "Aunt Flo" each month and part of me is bummed to think about what the long term effects may be - infertility. Not that I was planning on going out and getting pregnant tomorrow but it seems weird to think about not really having the option. It's not a guarantee of infertility and most likely "Aunt Flo" will resume again in 6-9 months but it's kind of a dark thought. So honestly, I try not to go there!

The church that I have been attending has a cancer support group once a month and I was able to attend again last weekend. It is nice to have a group of people who are going through or have already gone through much of what I am. I get strength from their stories...men, women, husbands, wives, children, all fighting different types and stages of cancer. There's a peace and comfort knowing you're not alone.

My Dad flew down to spend this weekend with me and celebrate my last chemo treatment. I wasn't really feeling very good for much of his trip but I'm glad he came, I enjoyed his company. We had fun soaking up the sun (a near record 118 on Saturday) and splashing around the waterpark (if you know him, ask him about his waterslide experience). He definitely knows how to make me laugh and that's just what I needed.

Graeagle or Bust

I received great news today - I will be able to make the annual trip to Graeagle! Yes! I really needed some good news. This last week has been rough both physically and mentally and although I was doing my best to remain optimistic, sometimes it's hard. I met with my radiation oncologist today and he was awesome. I knew I would like him when he walked in with an aloha shirt on and his opening statement was a joke. He was going to have me wait for a month after my last chemo treatment before beginning radiation anyway so we just bumped it back one more week. I will begin what he believes will be 4-5 weeks of radiation after I get back from Graeagle. I declared my love for him when he gave me the o.k. to go. He just laughed and tried to move on but I was serious! I have a PET scan and "simulation" (to get the measurements for radiation) on July 20th. Radiation will basically "seal the deal" on the cancer cells. The side effects will hopefully be minimal in comparison to the chemo - thank you Lord! Fatigue may play a part a couple weeks in and because of the close proximity to my esophagus a sore throat may also play a part but the doctor assured me liquid vicodin would help with that!

I am so grateful for this news. I really needed something to look forward to and Graeagle is the perfect destination. The monotony of appointments, bloodwork, trips to the pharmacy and paying doctor bills can be mentally exhausting and it's just made more dramatic when I'm physically worn down. Not a good combination for positivity. Thankfully these little "down times" only happen once in awhile and I try not to let it last longer than 48 hours. I learned the 48 hour rule in a book called, "Crazy, Sexy Cancer". The author is hilarious and she basically says you should give yourself permission to feel the "bad" feelings but don't sulk in them. Feel them, accept them, get out of your pajamas and move on! I totally buy into that theory. I'm out of my pajamas and moving on!

A Little Rant

Let me start this off by saying, "Guilty as charged". I'm not claiming that I say the right thing at the right time every time. I'm not saying in the future I'll always say the most heartfelt words at the perfect moment either. What I am saying is that when people do choose to share their stories with me now my words are more considerate and open. For the most part, people mean well. I know that. I've meant well when I've made cliche statements or said thoughtless things to fill an awkward silence or uncomfortable moment. Most of the time people aren't looking for some earth-shattering, etch it in stone quote. They just want to be heard. Cancer scares people. It scares people into saying some stupid things. I've compiled this little list of things that at some point since my diagnosis have been said to me. Not all are direct quotes but you'll get the idea. Oh, and I'm feeling pretty good today so there might be a little sarcasm in my responses (most of which I did not say outloud!). As you read these and you think, "Oh crap, I said that!", it's ok. If I like you I cut you a little slack :)

* "I think my aunt had that cancer and she died." Well, that's really encouraging. Thanks for the inspiration. Jerk.

* "Did you know that _________ (fill in the blank with anything from seaweed to purple cows) helps prevent cancer?" Um, in case you forgot I already have cancer. Thanks for making me feel good about it.

* "The third cousin of my co-workers exes psychiatrist had that cancer and they said it's wasn't that bad. You'll be fine." Sounds credible. Plus, don't make statements you can't guarantee.

* "Well, good thing you got the best kind of cancer." Right. I'm so glad I got the "good" cancer. It's about as good as getting the "good" seat on death row.

* "Aren't you supposed to lose weight when you have cancer?" Actually, no. Steroids, a messed up metabolism, limited foods that sound good and minimal exercise don't usually combine for weight loss.

* "I'm praying for/thinking about you." Are you really? Or are you just saying that because you feel like you should?

* "You should wear a wig/hat/makeup." Yeah, well you should get a face lift.

* "I understand." Unless you've gone through it, no, you don't.

* "Let me know if there's anything I can do." Don't say that. Do something. Actions speak louder than words.

Checking In

Treatment #6. It was a rough one almost immediately. I literally have a physical reaction walking in to the cancer center now and I think it's because my body knows what's coming. I try to think happy thoughts and distract myself but the smells, the tastes, the sounds give it away. I had a new nurse and she was great. All of the nurses are. Shirley had called me to let me know that because they were closed Monday it was going to be busy so be prepared to wait. I came prepared for 4-5 hours but I must have come between waves because we set a record of just under 3 hours. I was happy about that. Some of the usual characters were there in addition to some new ones. I had a hard time keeping my mouth shut when one group of ladies began talking loudly and tried 'one upping' each other with cancer and chemo stories. I hate that game in the first place let alone when I'm trying to maintain a good attitude. I turned my ipod up loud and zoned out to some Dixie Chicks.

My stomach was churning by the time I got in my car. Again, I think my body knows what's getting pumped into it. My mind definitely does. I wasn't sure if I'd make it home without hurling on the car next to me but I made it. Just in time to get in the shower. I'll spare you the details but let's just say it was probably best I was already in the shower.

One thing I have been doing is getting a massage the day after treatments. Physically it is healing for me and mentally it helps me visualize that crap killing what it's supposed to and then getting the heck out of my body. This treatment I also did Bikram yoga less than 48 hours after treatment. I was pretty much a lump on a log sweating my brains out but again, it's therapeutic for both my body and mind. I know what I need to do but sometimes it's hard to do it especially when I'm not feeling 100%. A special thanks to Gabi for being a great therapist, teacher and encourager.

I'll write more about my weekend visitors, a special gift I received and the minor bump in the road I had this week a little later. I want to end this post by asking everyone to pray for my friend, Teri, who is just beginning her battle with cancer. Teri is like another mom to me and I know she is scared and nervous for what lies ahead of her. I want to offer her courage and hope that this disease can be beat!

Visitors

This past month I've had visitors every weekend and I am so thankful. It's been comforting to have familiar faces to talk to and fun to have the distractions from reality. I've shared a few tears but mostly laughs. I love my family and friends!


My friend, Micah, and her husband, Mark, made the gorgeous (or not so gorgeous) drive from New Mexico. We had a relaxing weekend that included shopping, talking and a Diamondbacks/Cubs game. I wore my DBacks shirt, Mark wore his Cubs shirt and Micah played neutral. Micah and I have been friends since our college years and I can always count on her for sweet words (and she gives the most thoughtful gifts!). Thanks for visiting Micah and Mark! Go Dbacks! Right, Mark?


This is my Aunt Kim. I like to call her Billy Ray. We had a blast hanging out in Tucson for a weekend and kept ourselves entertained by modeling my wig. Our neighbors at the hotel were probably wondering what the heck was happening when we were doing our photoshoot with self timers. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time. I have the best aunts in the world. Seriously, you should read some of the text messages we exchange. We're really mature. I love you Billy Ray!


My friend, Molly, was in town for her brothers wedding and it just so happens I live just a few miles from him so I got to steal her away for some great talks. Molly and I have been friends since high school. Over fourteen years. Crazy! Molly has a way of using a trying time in her life to relate to others and uses that relationship to build faith and offer hope, so inspiring. Molly and I shared a great breakfast at "The Farm" where Molly finally believed me that there is greenery in Arizona! Thank you for the talks Molly!


This weekend my brother joined me from San Diego for my little three day staycation. We stayed at Squaw Peak Resort and had fun floating the lazy river, watching movies and laughing. My brother is one of the funniest people I know (when I'm in the mood to listen!) and can also be so encouraging. We got up on Sunday morning to hike Squaw Peak and I quickly got frustrated with my lack of endurance and the nasty chemo taste in my mouth but he talked me up part of the mountain. I enjoyed our time together and the laughs we shared. Thanks for the visit, Jerm!

Tomorrow I head in for treatment #6. My stomach turns a little bit just thinking about it but I can't wait to say I'm done with Round 3.

Mile 20

As many of you know my friend, Hillary, and her husband, Brad, ran the Big Sur marathon a couple weeks ago. They ran it in honor of her dad who is battling cancer and while training for the race they also raised money for cancer research. Their final tally was $21,256.20. Are you kidding me? Two people raised over $21,000 for cancer research. That gives me chills. So powerful. Hillary and Brad dedicated each mile of their race to someone in their circle of friends and family who has or currently is fighting cancer. I was Mile 20. I actually still am Mile 20...the nickname has stuck! I couldn't be more proud. I wanted to share a portion of the email Hillary sent out after they were done with the race. I have sat on it for several days because quite honestly it came at a very emotional time for me and I couldn't quite put my thoughts together. In Hillary's words...

"For everyone who gave something, whether it was from your bank account or from your heart in the form of a hug or an email or a text message or a call, thank you. Until you have been in the mix of a serious illness in your family (and far too many of us are becoming forced comrades in this), it is hard to know how much these seemingly small measures of support mean. Before last summer, I was on the other side. I was so unfamiliar with "what to do" for my friends faced with the uncertainty of what's to come when there's so much you can't do. I now know that the old cliche -- it's the little things that matter -- is so true. The smallest gesture, even when it feels awkward and even when you feel like you're going to stumble over the right thing to say or do, is comforting.

Knowing we do not walk this road alone makes taking steps along it a whole heck of a lot easier.

Kristin Armstrong (an author Hillary had previously referenced) also writes this about friendship to someone going through a hard time, and if you think about it in the metaphorical sense and not just the physical sense, it captures it beautifully:

"If you run next to someone in that place, there isn't much to say – mostly because you can't breathe. So you listen. And for as much as you want to prevent pain or alleviate circumstances when you love someone that much, you can't. And in fact, to do so would eliminate the specific growth divinely appointed by the challenge. Just like you can never really help someone run (in the literal sense – it has to come from their own body, their own strength), you can't really help someone endure...But you can run beside someone. Sometimes your words can offer insight, levity, or community. But most of the time the solidarity of your silence, the sound of the footfalls and the breathing, is the greatest comfort in the world – knowing that there are people alongside you in your journey." "

I would like to say thank you to everyone who has come along side me. Knowing I have a strong circle of support is beyond words. It's what makes each treatment and sick day just a little more bearable. As Hillary mentioned - even the smallest gesture, no matter how awkward it may feel, is perfectly timed. Trust me. So thank you. Everyone. And a special thank you to Hillary and Brad for the honor of being Mile 20. Your efforts and consideration have stretched farther than you'll ever know.

Bumps in the Road

"If you're going through hell
Keep on going, don't slow down
If you're scared, don't show it
You might get out
Before the devil even knows you're there"
- Rodney Atkins

The last two days have not been good ones. I could feel myself getting a bit overwhelmed with the anticipation of my appointment with my oncologist yesterday and what his words would mean in regards to my health. We were going to go over the results of the cat scan I had last Thursday. It was the halfway point in my original treatment plan and would be compared to the cat scan before I began treatment. It's crazy to me how you can have such extreme reactions to one statement. My cancerous area has shrunk by 80%.....80%!!!! Yes! It's working! That's great! But 80% also means no change in plans as far as number of chemo treatments I have to endure and at this point I will also be doing radiation for three weeks. After my 8th chemo treatment I will have a two week break then begin three straight weeks of radiation - five days a week, 5 minutes each time. I needed a calendar because I had a bad feeling about this timeframe. I was right. On that schedule I will be receiving my third week of radiation the week of Graeagle. For those of you that know me well Graeagle is my happy place. I will go so far as to say it's my favorite place on earth. My family has been making the trip to the cabins tucked in the northern Sierra mountains for 30+ years. I can't miss Graeagle. I am TRYING not to get bogged down by that thought but it's hard. That was supposed to be my finish line. My reward for this crap I'm pushing through. And I suppose it still can be if I can convince the doctors I only need a one week break between chemo and radiation. We'll see if that's even a possibility when I meet with the radiation oncologist. Maybe the fact that I had booked my tickets before I even knew I had cancer will help in the decision!

So, needless to say, yesterdays treatment was a bit of a bummer. I didn't want to be there. At all. Amidst my self pity there were a couple bright spots. For the first time since I started treatment Shirley was able to access my port on the very first try! Big props to Shirley! My chest was still bruised from accessing it last week for my cat scan so I was very happy it only took one jab. Shirley also shared with me that she had spoken with Dr. K2's nurse practitioner and she gave raving reviews of me as a patient. I think Shirley knew I needed to hear something like that. I did. It helped.

I'm trying to stay as positive as I can but since this blog is an outlet for me I thought I should be honest and share the not so pretty stuff too. So there it is.

Don't Judge A Book By Its Cover

A couple weeks ago I was at the Apple store perusing the accessories wall. My head was freshly shaved and I was wearing a hat. Up walks an employee - a young Asian girl who was small in stature and a bit punked out with her funky jewelry and three different colors of hair. I observed all of those things and I'm not sure what I expected but it wasn't the conversation we had. She was direct and she was sincere. "Did you walk the cancer walk?". "No, not this year but I have before.". "Oh. I noticed you don't have hair.". " Yeah, I'm actually being treated for cancer and just shaved it.". "Well, you are rocking that hat. I just thought you should know.". After helping me complete my purchase she held up her hand for a high five and I obliged. "I hope you kick that cancer!". She was the first stranger who acknowledged my lack of hair. I appreciated her openness.

Two days ago I took my laptop in to have my pictures recovered. I was wearing a bandanna. He was wearing a Geek Squad badge. I was intimidated but leery because he also had reddish/purple hair and holes in his ears that I could see through. After explaining my computer issue he said, "If you don't mind me asking, how is treatment going?". It caught me a bit off guard but I didn't mind him asking and I told him that. He asked more questions. How long, what kind, how do I feel. "I hope your cat scan comes back cancer free!". He had other customers lining up behind me but showed a genuine interest in my story. Again, I appreciated that.

The moral of the story is don't judge a book by its cover. These two 'punks' are the only strangers that have left me with words of encouragement and hope and they did it in a respectful and honest way. They asked. They listened. They cared.

G.I. Jen

Well, the time finally came. On Sunday May 1st, exactly 2 months after my diagnosis, I decided it was time for my hair to go. I lasted longer than most people with this chemo cocktail and according to my oncologist and nurse it's because I have never dyed my hair and don't use a hair dryer. So being boring and lazy in the mornings bought me a little extra time with my hair. I used to joke about my hair bugging me and threatening to shave it off. That's a funny joke until it's not really a choice anymore. Well, it was still a choice but I chose to end finding crazy amounts of hair on my pillows, in my shower and on my desk. I could have maintained a killer rug like The Donald but that's just wrong. I never realized how emotional the decision to shave my head would be but it was. When it comes down to it the part that bugged me most was 'people would know'. They would know something was wrong with me. I didn't like that thought but I worked through the final steps all day Sunday and by the evening I was ready to do it. My roommate, Gabi, did it for me. After a brief moment of us both realizing what we were actually doing and why, we swallowed back a few tears and went for it. And had fun with it. We left a mohawk and Monday morning she colored it orange (go Beavs!) and I headed off to work in hopes of receiving my pink slip! My friend (and boss) Theresa had a great reaction but said 'No way!' to firing me. Dang (just kidding). I sported the 'hawk to our CPA's office and out to lunch then covered it up when I went to treatment. I didn't want to minimize the way some people feel about losing their hair nor make a scene so I wore a bandana. When I got home I did my best G.I. Jane and shaved my head clean. It was kind of liberating and powerful. Today I went back to the cancer center for a shot and I went in as G.I. Jen. I figured that was the safest place for my first time and I was right. No one cared. I was feeling so good about it that I stopped at Target on my way home. Sure I got a few looks but nothing I can't handle. G.I. Jen is in full force!


The Donald.


The drunk Donald.


Getting down to business.


Gabi made me wear a garbage bag. She's a professional :)


My hair has some crazy natural wave/curls.


The mushroom top.


The 'Hawk.


Seek happiness.


Being a punk rocker takes alot of time and effort!


G.I. Jen. Camo and all.

The Third Time is NOT a Charm

Seriously. This chemo treatment kicked my butt, took my name and then kept on kicking. I experienced more hot flashes, finger tingling, nasty taste in my mouth moments than the other two treatments combined and the best part was at any given second over the past 3-4 days I felt like I could hurl. You know it's bad when you're planning an escape route or trying to determine who would be the least offended if you threw up on them (thankfully the lady in front of me at Walgreens doesn't even know she drew the short stick!).

Monday's post was the peak of my positive thoughts for the week. I am thankful I have both arms. I am not thankful for nausea and fluid in my ears. I told my Dad it's like having a horrible hangover (ssshhh...I know it's shocking I know what that feels like!) and I didn't even get the party beforehand. And the fluid in my ears? Best described as walking around with my head in a fishbowl, sloshing around with every move.

I met with Dr. K2 before my treatment so we could discuss my labs and ears. After the last treatment we had opted to skip the Neulasta shot because my white blood cell count was good. This time my white blood cell count was down (not to a dangerous level, just down) so I received the shot on Tuesday. Dr. K2 feels that because my white blood cell count was down it could have been a contributing factor to my ear pain. I do not have an infection but it's possible my body wasn't able to "fight off" the fluid like it would under ideal circumstances. Before I received my chemo I had an i.v. of antibiotics and am currently on a 7 day dose of horse pills to help with my ears. I am not experiencing pain, which I'm happy for, it's more of an annoyance - like I went deep sea diving and came up with half of the ocean in my ears. I am learning to ignore it. I am also happy to report that my nurse, Shirley, was back for this treatment and was able to access my port on the first jab! Success! Now I know why people want them. I was not convinced prior to this treatment.

I laid low all day Tuesday and most of Wednesday. By Wednesday afternoon I was feeling like I needed to move. A walk seemed like a good idea. It was 90+ degrees outside so I opted to drive up the street to the mall so I could walk in the air conditioning. If you see me on the news on one of those grainy surveillance camera videos, just ignore it. I'm pretty sure I raised all possible red flags for the mall security in a matter of minutes. I walked into Macy's and proceeded to experience a killer hot flash. One that left my hair soaked and me looking around anxiously, hoping no one else saw what was happening. After the internal furnace eased up I made it past the jewelry section and into the main mall. I walked down three stores, did a 180 and headed back into Macy's. I needed to get the heck out of there. I felt the nausea wave hitting and I wanted out. One problem. I forgot which door I came in. The hot flash caused memory loss. I wandered around Macy's for way too long and finally remembered where I came in. In and out of the mall in 20 minutes max. It's safe to say I won't be going for a "walk" there anytime soon.

Yesterday I managed to make it into the office for a few hours then came home and took an awesome nap. After my nap I headed over to my pulmonologist's office (Dr. K1). She was back from maternity leave this week and wanted to see me. Her receptionist, Susan, greeted me with a big hug. Dr. K1 also greeted me with a hug and got a little teary-eyed during our visit. I appreciated her concern and the conversation we had. She shared about her and Dr. S's conversations and how they were both shocked/sad with my diagnosis. And that Dr. S was texting her at 3 a.m. the day of my surgery! I told her I am extremely grateful for their care and I am completely aware that had they not followed their gut with each biopsy it's quite possible I'd be walking around right now not knowing cancer was brewing inside of me.

Today is what I like to call The Best Friday. It's not only Good Friday but it's also a day that the stock market is closed which means I don't have to work...The Best Friday! I'm taking it slow, catching up on my thank you notes and enjoying some of the best watermelon ever (thanks Gabi!).

Faith and Motivation

Over the last couple of days I have watched two movies that are based on true stories about the power of the human spirit and the will to overcome obstacles. They have helped me gain some perspective and tap into a source that is beyond powerful - the human mind. If you haven't already seen them, I highly recommend "Soul Surfer" and "127 Hours".

"Soul Surfer" is the true story of Bethany Hamilton, a surfer who lost her arm in a shark attack at the age of 13. She has an undeniable faith and love for God that she leans on heavily. She learned to surf again with one arm and is beyond amazing when it comes to physical strength. I loved the whole movie, not only for the inspiration, but for the sweet shots of Oahu and Kauai too! I like how she asks "Why me?" not in a pity-party way but more like a "Why me? What is God's plan and how is He going to use me?" kinda way. I relate to that. I don't have the answer but I'm trying to stay open minded (and to be honest that kinda scares me!).

"127 Hours" is the true story of Aron Ralston, a hiker from Colorado. Aron was trapped in a canyon with his arm pinned under a boulder for 127 hours - that's over 5 days! - before he cut off his own arm to free himself. Talk about the will to live! And not only live but thrive. Since recovering, Aron has resumed his aspiration of summiting all 59 Colorado peaks over 14,000 feet during the winter. My favorite quote from Aron is, "At this point, I've got the confidence to know that I'll get through anything in my life given I have the motivation to do it, ... If it's an act of survival, we've all got a reason to keep living. It may not be pretty, but surviving is grit and determination in its highest form. I learned that I've got the capacity to do a hell of a lot more than I thought I could if I have the proper motivation." Motivation is huge. I have motivation. I just need to remind myself every once in awhile.

I highly recommend both of these movies. Sit back, relax, put your "obstacles" in perspective and be thankful you have both arms!

Round 1 - Done!

I am 25% done with chemo. That's the first quarter. Two and a third innings. Round 1 - done!

My Dad flew down for this treatment and I loved having him with me. We spent the first couple of days watching March Madness and enjoying the sunshine and pool. I think the Arizona weather convinced him of possible future snowbird days, finally. His last trip was a bit traumatizing as the mercury reached 115 and he managed to smear sunscreen in his eyes (that deserves a blog post of its own!). He had sworn off the great state of Arizona but I think he may have flipped after this trip.

As I mentioned in a previous post there were problems accessing my port during my first treatment. Shirley (my first nurse) was not working the day of my second treatment so I knew to warn the next nurse of what was needed - the 1.5" needle and me in a reclined position. Check and check. Except it didn't work. I didn't go into another room this time so my Dad was sitting next to me the entire time she was trying to get the needle into the port. Although it doesn't feel good, I'm sure it looks way worse than it feels. I really can't feel the needle (they spray me with a numbing concoction) so the part that hurts me is the port moving around inside my chest. He got a little antsy after a few minutes of missed attempts but held it together. The nurse finally caved, took out the needle and called for backup. The second nurse re-cleaned, re-numbed and jabbed the needle in - success! There was no shame in her game and in cases like this it's actually what is needed. We spent the next couple of hours chatting, watching tv, cruising the internet and then we were done. Now that I know what is going to happen it's not as scary. I like that.

The side effects of this treatment were similar to the first in some ways and worse in others. I don't think I'll ever get used to the nausea but I was able to manage it a little better this time. I armed myself with saltines and watered down Gatorade and woke up earlier than usual to partake in that lovely feast before my feet hit the floor. This little ritual seemed to keep my stomach stable for the morning hours. The taste that is in my mouth for days after treatment is indescribable. I suppose I could try though - it tastes like what I would imagine the inside of a muffler on an old, crusty pickup truck would taste like after boggin' through a stale, fishy creek on a hot summer day. Mmmm, tasty. Sometimes I wake in the night and I find myself brushing my teeth with the lights off, trying not to become fully coherent, so I can pretend I'm not really tasting it and go right back to sleep. The side effect that seemed to be worse this time is the pain in my ears. Yeah, no one told me about that one. Last treatment I thought maybe it was just a weird coincidence that my ears hurt a couple days after chemo. Well, unfortunately, it happened again this time. I now know why babies and little kids pull on their ears and cry and cry and cry. That's what I wanted to do (and still do a little bit) the last couple of days. I guess I rolled the lucky number when it comes to fluid in my ears as a result of the chemo cocktail I receive. I am now putting drops in my ears to try and relieve the pressure and pain. It seems to be working but I'm hoping Dr. K2 and I can be a little more proactive for my next treatment. I am not a very happy person when my ears hurt.

The side effects can become a little much when I allow them to be but when I take a step back I am able to get a grip and realize it could be alot worse. I find that if I acknowledge that I'm not going to feel 100% for a few days every couple of weeks it's easier to accept and move on. So that's what I'm doing, moving on. I have a week and a half of feeling good and I plan on soaking up some time with friends, their kids and the sunshine.

"Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever." - Lance Armstrong

The Prayer Quilt

Late last week a package addressed to me was delivered to our doorstep. The box was large but light and had obviously seen better days. As I got ready to rip into it I inspected the return label but it gave no indication of the individual who had sent it. I wondered what it was and who it was from. I dug in. Inside was the biggest Ziploc bag I have ever seen with a card attached to the outside. I opened the card and read the words. I read powerful words. Loving words. Caring words. Words that left me speechless. The words were from the Mom of two of my friends. A Mom whom I have only met once or twice. A Mom who clearly loves her daughters and her daughters friends. I passed the card to Gabi as I opened up the Ziploc bag and proceeded to unwrap a beautiful quilt. I just stared at it. Gabi summed it up when she handed the card back and said, "That just gave me chills.". It's true, it did me too. The Prayer Quilt had a little handwritten note attached that says, "Jen, may this quilt be a reminder that you are wrapped in love and covered in prayer.". My eyes welled up but really the only thing I could do was smile and say, "Wow.". Thank you Becky, thank you for the Prayer Quilt, thank you for praying for me and thank you for reminding me that I am not alone and "He will not leave us nor forsake us.". Your generosity is beyond words.

I just want to say that in the midst of this trial I know that I am loved. I am loved by God, my family, my friends, acquaintances of those who know me and strangers who don't know me at all. That is an overwhelming thought (in a very, very good way).

“When angels visit us, we do not hear the rustle of wings, nor feel the feathery touch of the breast of a dove; but we know their presence by the love they create in our hearts.”

When in Doubt, Sweat it Out

This week has been good. I have no complaints and several things to be thankful for. I met with Dr. K2 on Tuesday to go over how I handled the first treatment and he was very happy to hear my report. He checked my ears and it turns out I have fluid in both and that was the cause of the gnarly pain last week. We will monitor the pain after my next treatment and go from there.

I went to my Women's Bible Study last night for the first time in a few weeks and it was great to be back. It's amazing to me what comfort I find in a group of women that I barely know. I am so thankful for their support and prayers, they are a great group of ladies. I am composing a post specifically about last night's study and will share my thoughts when I'm done.

I have received several gifts in the mail over the past month and am grateful for each one. The generosity people have shown me through flowers, food, music, money and books has been overwhelming. "Thank you" never seems like enough but it's what I got sooooo - THANK YOU!

I have had an internal battle over the last week about working out. Part of me was scared, part of me was anxious and part of me just wanted to get a good sweat on. Today I got my sweat on. For the first time in several months I found myself back in Bikram Yoga. If you have never attended a Bikram Yoga class just know that the room is kept at a temperature of around 105 with 40% humidity. You sweat. Alot. I couldn't do all of the poses (partly because of my endurance level and partly because of the various aches and pains I've acquired over the past month). It felt great to stretch and loosen up the scar tissue in my neck. It didn't feel so great trying to do some of the floor poses because of the Power Port. My goal was to stay in the room for the entire 90 minutes. Mission accomplished.

Tomorrow I have to get blood drawn, pick up my wig and pick up my Dad. I'm looking forward to them in the same order - good, better, best! The weather will be beautiful this weekend and I can't wait to spend some time with my Dad at the Hilton pool. I think I feel a cannonball coming on!

Please continue to pray for restful sleep and also that my second treatment goes as well as the first. Thank you all so much!

(By the way, if you scroll to some of the other posts I added pictures - enjoy!)

Cancer is so limited...

It cannot cripple love.
It cannot shatter hope.
It cannot corrode faith.
It cannot eat away peace.
It cannot destroy confidence.
It cannot kill friendship.
It cannot shut out memories.
It cannot silence courage.
It cannot reduce eternal life.
It cannot quench the spirit.

Printed on the back of a St. Jude's bookmark.
I love the words. Cancer is so limited.

Riding the Wave

I'm glad last week is over. Monday and Tuesday were better than I anticipated but Wednesday and Thursday didn't live up to my expectations. I did manage to work both Wednesday and Thursday but the nausea was ever present. I learned the hard lesson that I can no longer lay in bed until the last minute and then jump up and move fast. I thought I was going to toss my cookies two minutes into my shower on Wednesday. Thursday I laid in bed and ate saltines before my feet hit the floor and the morning went much smoother. My Mom related it to morning sickness. I am adding pregnant women to the list of people I'll never again make fun of.

Friday was wig day. A day I neither looked forward to nor dreaded. It was a bit surreal. Wigs have come a long way but the idea still kinda creeps me out. Anyway, I did it. There were some good laughs. The final decision has not been made because I am waiting for one to be shipped but by the end of next week I'll be the proud owner of a hair prosthesis. Don't be jealous.

My best Reba.

My Mom's 'do circa 1985.

Hello, welcome to Wal-Mart.

Cousin It.

Yesterday was my Mom's last day down here after two weeks. We spent the day soaking up the sun at Tempe Town Lake and Marketplace. We bought a couple hats because although I'm getting a wig I'm thinking bald is more my style. Saying goodbye is never easy but we managed to do it without causing too much of a scene! I am glad my Mom was down here to be with me for my first treatment and I know she feels the same. There's definitely a comfort that only a Mom can bring.

Me and the madre.


Today I am getting myself organized and back in routine for my "good" week. I see Dr. K2 on Tuesday and have bloodwork on Friday but other than that I am free of medical appointments - yay! My Dad will be here on Friday and will be with me at my second treatment next Monday. I am looking forward to spending time with him (although I'm not looking forward to hearing about how he beat me in March Madness).

Thank you all so much for everything. Seriously. I have been blessed with a great support group and receiving the cards, gifts, flowers and paintings (courtesy of a special little boy named Jack) always puts a smile on my face. Please pray for the medical staff that is taking care of me. They are amazing people that do amazing work. I had another opportunity to speak with the family of a former patient of Dr. K2's and I know that I am receiving the best care.

The Beginning of Chemo

Yesterday was my first chemo treatment and although it was a long day I would chalk it up as a success. I brought my entourage (my Mom, Gabi and Theresa) with me. We met with Dr. K2 first. He continues to be very optimistic about my outcome and foresees a 90-95% remission rate - I'll take it! We then moved into the chemo room which was PACKED! It was a bit of a gut check realizing how many people are in need of chemo and that this is where I would be every other Monday for the next four months. We had to wait quite awhile to get started so Gabi entertained herself (and those around her) by putting my hair in baby braids tied with dental floss. Yes, dental floss. My hair smelled minty fresh when she was done.

I had a nice nurse named Shirley who had a great sense of humor. She's lucky I liked her because I wanted to punch her in the face not once but twice within the first 10 minutes of meeting her. The first attempt at accessing my Power Port didn't go too well. (If you get queasy you may want to skim down the page.) She cleaned the area and put a freeze spray on me so I wouldn't feel the stick. It's true I didn't feel the initial stick, just pressure, so I was happy about that. That happiness faded quickly when Shirley told me that because of the swelling and a hematoma on top of the port the 1" needle didn't get into the port. She drained the hematoma and we moved into a private room so I could lay horizontal and she could bust out the 1.5" needle. She recleaned and resprayed the area and we tried again. Just before I thought I was going to lose it she breathed a sigh of relief and in turn so did I. I told her she was 2 seconds away from a "Coming To Jesus" meeting then we laughed and had a discussion about my chest size. Thanks Shirley, I was unaware of my large chest! :)

As I walked back into the chemo room with Shirley I got what I call "sympathy smiles". I continued to get them as new people entered and exited the room and on my way to the bathroom. Geesh! I wondered why they were all looking at me like that. I thought it was maybe because of my age. I was atleast 30 years younger than most of the other patients. Or maybe it was because I was holding my chest in addition to wheeling my iv pole to the bathroom. I continued to comtemplate the "sympathy smiles" until I looked in the mirror. The dental floss dreads were the answer. All of those people were feeling bad for me because I had dental floss hanging from my hair. I laughed as I took each string out. When I walked back to my recliner the "sympathy smiles" weren't as prevalant. Thanks for the laugh Gabi!







The chemo regimen I'm on is called ABVD. Instead of explaining it all I'll refer you to Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ABVD). It's basically four medications. Three administered as "pushes" and the fourth as an iv drip. It took about 3 total hours yesterday. It took a bit longer because it was my first treatment and because it was so busy. It will normally take about 2 hours.

I felt fine when we left but last night was a little rough. I had a tough time falling asleep and once I did it didn't last long. I will never make fun of menopausal women again. I experienced no less than 6 hot flashes throughout the night. Temporary menopause is a potential side effect of the chemo and unfortunately I may have drawn the short straw on that side effect. I also experienced what I can best describe as the feeling of having "Pop Rocks" crackling in my mouth. It wouldn't be so bad if it tasted good but I've had a nasty chemical taste in my mouth since the first medicine was administered. This is not unusual either. I did alot of mouth rinsing during the night. My mouthcare arsenal now includes mouthwash, gum, Tic Tacs and Lifesavers. We'll see how tonight goes.

Today I have felt better than anticipated. I was able to eat breakfast and take a shower without much nausea. I had to go back to the doctors office to get a Neulasta shot, get my blood pressure and temperature checked. Neulasta will help my body produce more white blood cells so I will always get that shot the day after chemo and the other two are just to keep tabs on my vitals. I also had to go give more blood for some additional baseline numbers. I was able to do that in addition to a trip to Target before I hit a wall. We came home to eat lunch and take a nap. The nausea is definitely there so I'm just learning how I'm going to manage it. After my nap we ran one more errand and then I was done. It feels like the flu is coming on but I know it's just the chemo. Shirley strongly encouraged me to rest when needed but try to be upright as much as possible. I think I was successful today.

Tomorrow I anticipate being back at work and look forward to a nice walk outside. Thank you all for your cards, flowers and calls. I feel very loved.