Xeloda: Day 1

(by Susan, @WhyMommy) Last night, we cleaned up the supper dishes, took the towels out of the dryer, and helped the children with their showers. Then we all put on pjs, climbed into the big bed to watch cartoons together, and I took my first three chemotherapy pills. My husband put his arm around me and said, “Thank you. Thank you for doing this for our family.”

and we all snuggled, watching Tom and Jerry discover silly green aliens on Mars while we waited for my body to react to the chemo pills.

…

This morning’s routine was not nearly as much of a ritual, squeezed in between showers and timed after breakfast and before we got distracted by the children’s needs.

So far, so good. I’m not reacting violently to the xeloda, which is fantastic. My oncologist says that we’ll know how I respond after a week, in terms of side effects, and after three weeks, in terms of white blood counts (that fight infection) and liver counts (which can be damaged by the treatment). So today I rest, and watch, and pick blackberries from the garden with the children.

My body now has the tools to fight the cancer.

Six pills down, 498 to go.

Originally posted by the author on Toddler Planet.

What do I have in common with Crystal Gayle?

I’ve made a decision about my hair.  Alright, I made it a long time ago, but I’m just now coming clean with you.  The day Jeremy shaved my head was the day I knew, when and if it came back, I would grow it forever, and I mean forever.  I’m working on a two-year bob right now.  I’m a secret wanna be Crystal Gayle.  Not the “I never trim the ends” wanna be, but the ridiculously, past my hipperoo’s, wanna be.  When I’m thinking with a clear head, which is very rarely these days, and I look at a picture of Crystal with her uber long hair I think “who in heaven’s name told her that looks good?”  It has to be some really warped reason I’m sure…..like maybe she was one of those kids that didn’t grow hair till they were 10 and she vowed when it came in she would never cut it.  Or maybe they couldn’t afford bath towels when she was growing up so her hair was an easy remedy to a perplexing problem.  I dunno. 

 But somewhere in my warped post-chemo, “I can’t escape cancer” brain of mine, I think.

a.  I really want hair.  I missed it so much when it was gone I want it and I want LOTS of it.  I want to feel it on my shoulders, tie it in knots like lady gaga, and let my girls learn to french braid on it. 

 b.  If I were being totally honest, I’m probably waiting for the day they tell me I need chemo again… but THIS time I will be ready.  It’ll be so long I’ll be able to make my own wig, or maybe glue it back on my head if a wig costs too much.  I’ll be the ultimate comb-over, but I don’t care because it will be MY HAIR! Let me say it again because it sounds so good to type it…..MY HAIR.  I even like to type MY EYEBROWS, but that’s a whole nother post about someone with a wicked uni-brow and I’m not going to take it that far.  (At least I don’t think I will.  Oh that’s right, my eyebrows don’t meet in the middle, so scratch that idea.)

 c.  And the final reason is because when you’ve lost 2 items of “sexy” as a woman, the hair is a logical place to turn.  Especially when 2 items of sexy will never really return, they can try for you but they will ultimately never ever return…..and we’re not talking “complaining after nursing they won’t return,” we’re talking never again will you feel. anything. period. return.  But the hair most likely will return, and this is good.

 And so Crystal Gayle, tonight I’m not raising a glass of wine to you (although you might think I’ve been drinking with my ludicrous ramblings) because that might mess with my hormones and I don’t want cancer to come back, but I do have my feet up with a bowl of popcorn and a diet pepsi, and so here’s to you and your hair. 

I love hair.

I can’t turn it all off, by Sarah

For the last week or so I have had a lot of trouble sleeping. I lay in bed and can’t seem to settle down my body and mind enough to relax. This is a common thing with cancer patients, and I have had trouble from time to time. No matter what meds I take, sleep just does not come. My mind races, I think about my treatment, if it’s working. What is in store for me with my next round of chemo. Will I feel good this time? Will my blood counts be low again? Will I need another transfusion?  It’s really hard to turn all those questions off in my head. I think about why I got cancer, was it my fault, something I did wrong? Was there anything I could have done to prevent my recurrence? How is it all effecting my kids? Will it change who they are who they were supposed to be? Why me? Why not someone else, I am not tough enough for all of this! It goes on and on and on.

I know deep down inside that cancer happens to people, good people. It does not discriminate, but my emotions get thrown into the mix. Cancer does not just scar your body it scars your mind and your self confidence. When I look in the mirror I see my mastectomy scars, my port sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of my chest. I see the 10 pounds I have gained, I see my thinning lifeless hair.

Tomorrow I start my chemo cycle again. As I sit in my recliner and talk to my husband who takes care of my every need, we will  talk about the kids and read trashy magazines. I make small talk with the nurses who are all so wonderful. I like to tweetwith friends who keep me company at every treatment, keeping me smiling. The infusion center is a very quiet place, with quiet chatter and the sound of twerping infusion pumps going off. It’s actually a pretty relaxing place. After my 3 hours of infusion we head home and I nap all afternoon. we have meals delivered and people call to see how I am doing.

I don’t know when my treatments will end, my doctor keeps an eye on my scans and tracks my progress. My first time through chemo I had a set time of 8 treatments and a goal to look forward to. This time I don’t have that and it makes it harder I think. I try very hard not to feel down, I am grateful that I am here and grateful for the time I have to spend with the people I love. Living one day at a time and making every moment count. Feeling lucky to be a Mom to my girls and lucky to have such a wonderful husband who loves me no matter what. They keep me going, reminding me everyday why I am doing all this in the first place.

Breast Cancer Survivor’s Beach Day Oath

(by clergygirl)

1.  I will go to the beach and not let insecurity keep me from enjoying the sunny days of summer.

2.  I will not COVET my neighbors breasts, even the saggy ones.

3.  I will let people imagine how I got my funky tan lines.  

4.  I will make-believe that the blue dots on my chest from radiation actually do look like freckles.

5.  I will not keep hiking up my bathing suit top and sneaking peeks at my chest to make sure my scars aren’t showing.

6.  I will not care if my chest is super flat, it makes me look thin.

7.  I will find a nice bathing suit with a lining I can cut a hole in for the prosthetics instead of buying those expensive bathing suits where they cut the hole for you, Because breast cancer is expensive enough.

8.  I will live by today’s research and wear SPF approved by EWG if I’m out in the middle of the day for more than a half-hour, but if it’s less than that I won’t wear any to get my dose of VITAMIN D, which is supposed to keep cancer away. 

9.  I will try to keep up with current research just in case rule 8 changes.

10.  I will imagine people are looking at me because “I”M HOT,” and not for any other insecurity I have about my body or my chest.