Call me G.I. Jane.

Today was my first full day cue-ballin' it.  

By that, I mean it was my first full day living as a woman with no hair.  Well, technically, I have hair.  It's a little bit of stubble that's left after my sweet husband shaved my entire head (with the help and encouragement of our two little girls).  Today it was either covered by my wig or a scarf...but I went out in public (dropped Mia at school, took her to the dentist, went to the post office, and even got my mani/pedi).  

I'll back up a bit.  Last Thursday (Day 13 post-chemo), I started to notice that a few hairs were coming loose.  The next day (2 weeks post-chemo), more and more hairs wanted to come out.  They weren't falling out on their own, but if I brushed or pulled or touched certain spots, the hair would come out.  I'd recently gone to a Young Survivors of Breast Cancer support group, and a woman in attendance mentioned that her hair started falling out in clumps on day 14 exactly.  So, I was prepared for this...well, as prepared as I could be.  

Even though the hair was starting to let loose, I was still able to act like a normal person.  Afterall, if you know me, I have a LOT of hair.  I knew I had some to spare.  So Friday, was a normal day.  Well, normal for a "cancer patient" I guess.  Friday was the day I had my portable catheter, or PORT placed.  The PORT will be accessed from now on every time I receive Chemo, or need a blood draw, or an IV for any reason.  The port will save my veins in my left arm and will serve as a direct access to my superior vena cava (I think?) for the rest of my treatment.  Here is a picture of what a PORT looks like before it is inserted under the skin and into the vein: 

The procedure was relatively easy.  I came in to the hospital fasting, had bloodwork taken, and then was hooked up to an IV.  The IV delivered pain relievers and sedatives, including a magical potion called Versed.  The sedation was enough to make me very relaxed, though I didn't fall asleep (some people do).  Local anesthetic was used while the doctor, Dr. Pimenta, (another handsome one by the way...Benjamin Bratt twin!), punctured a hole in my neck to find a vein, fish the tubing through the vein, then make an incision just below my collarbone in which to place the port, and finally connect the tubing to the port.  There's not a lot I remember (the medication gives you a bit of amnesia), but that's it in a nutshell.

When I came out of the procedure, all I could think about was my hair.  I had to put on a surgical cap, so I asked the nurse to let me remove it (for fear that she would take my hair off with it).  Happily, I didn't lose too many hairs, but the bottom left side of my hair had been stained with blood.  Evidently I bled quite a bit during the procedure because my back, neck and chest was stained with blood.  My mom and the nurse cleaned it off...and I gingerly held my hair while my mom rinsed the blood out of it as well.  I spent some time in recovery, they gave me some Norco (vicodin) and that was that.

The night my port was placed, we had some dear friends stop by our house with a lovely dinner, complete with dessert.  I was sore, but still able to be up and around.  I took some of the 800 mg Ibuprofen that Dr. Banerjee's nurse had given me, and was able to function the rest of the night.  The next day, my mom and I drove up to LA for one of my best friend's baby shower...again, I was sore, but able to enjoy the shower with the help of some ibuprofen.  

Then I woke up on Sunday.  Yikes.  This is what I found:

After a call to Dr. Banerjee's on-call line, I learned that the Ibuprofen must have caused a little extra bleeding resulting in a fairly significant and painful bruise.  Sunday was a hard day.  My hair was really wanting to come out by this point, and couldn't bear to be brushed or touched without losing lots of strands of hair at a time.  Not only that...but my scalp itched...and burned and ached.  Losing the hair was painful.  Plus, the site of my port was incredibly sore and ached as well.  Sunday night was almost unbearable.  As I laid my aching, itching, burning head on my pillow I knew that it was one of the last nights that I would have my hair.  As I turned my head, I could feel pieces of it detaching from my scalp.  I couldn't help but cry.  And cry.  Josh woke up to ask what he could do.  But, there wasn't anything he could do, except to tell me that it would all be OK.  This is what we knew was coming.  I sat up and felt a rats nest of tangled hair at the back of my head.  I had to brush it.  I went outside into the night air and brushed my hair.  I watched it fall and swirl all around me, and gasped when I saw the first real CLUMP come out in my brush.  I went back inside to look in the mirror and saw it...in the back of my head there was an actual bald spot.  I had to move my hair just so to see it, and it could be covered up, but it was bald.  I knew that tomorrow (Monday...yesterday in real time), had to be the last day with my shedding hair.  I finally had to take an Ativan to relax and fall asleep.

Monday was a beanie day.  I pulled what was left of my hair back into a ponytail and topped my head with a beanie from lululemon.  I couldn't go out in public with my hair as it was.  It probably didn't look all that bad, I still had a lot of hair, but I could see the areas that were thinning, and I felt awful about how it looked.  Not to mention that my hair was dirty, as I had been afraid to wash it for fear of it all coming out in my hands.  So, I made it a beanie day.  Josh and I had discussed how we would shave my head and decided that we would involve the girls in it.  I had been telling Mia that the time would come that she would get to cut my hair, and she was very excited about it.  So, we got ready in the morning as usual, and took Mia to school...knowing that after I picked her up from school and after Josh got home, we would shave my head as a family.  

I cried all throughout the day leading up to the moment when Josh asked me if I was ready to do it.  We set up our little makeshift barber chair in my new lovely master bathroom, and called the girls in.  First, some photos of the "before"...I was trying to smile, though my heart was breaking and I was shaking in fear.

 

  

Then, sweet Mia got to her "work."  We didn't have cutting shears, so we tried to find the sharpest pair of scissors we had (which weren't too sharp after opening about one hundred boxes after our move).  With Josh close by...and Harper stomping back and forth across the bathroom floor bringing me tissues (or as she calls them, "dishoos"), Mia grabbed a handful of my hair and began to cut.  Her little hands weren't strong enough to make the cut herself so Josh helped her to do it.  She made a few more cuts, before Daddy had to take over.  

I sat with my back to the mirror while Josh handed me lock after lock of hair...I gathered them all in one hand, while the other hand held tight to my tissue.  I knew I wanted to save some of my hair, but I just kept asking him to hand me each piece that he cut off. It was a huge handful.  Looking at all of the hair he just cut off, with lots more still to go, I worried, 

"Did I do this too soon?  Maybe I could have gone a few more days?"  

But no.  I could not have gone a few more days.  This was the time and it had to be done.  

Then Josh took his clippers to my head.  The girls had totally lost interest at this point and had ventured into the playroom.  He slowly and methodically went over it, getting the back, then the sides, and then the front.  I continued to cry.  He whispered, 

"Wow, is this unreal or what?"  

I saw the tears welling in his eyes and beginning to fall as he made sure that he did a good job and made everything even...as even as shaving a balding woman's head could be.  

Finally.  It was done.  He looked at me, smiling.  

"I think you're going to be pleasantly surprised.  You've got a good head...there aren't any lumps or bumps or flat spots.  You look great, babe."

I turned around and looked in the mirror.  What I saw was Demi Moore in G.I. Jane.  No, I'm not saying I look like the Demi Moore...but in that moment that was all I could think of...that, and Sinead O'Conner.  But mostly it was G.I. Jane.  I had the bald head and the huge bruise across my chest.  I looked like I'd just gone through battle, and I guess I had.  I looked like a bada** b*tch.  Excuse my language, but I kinda did.  Mia and Harper walked back in and looked at me.  Josh asked them, "doesn't mommy look pretty?"  Mia said that I did.  Harper honestly didn't even seem to notice. 

Then, I burst into tears.  

...and, just like that.  There went the badass. 

(There is, of course, a bald "AFTER" picture to be inserted here.  However, I'm just not ready to share that image with social media at large.)

Hair was everywhere.  On my face, on my neck, in my ears.  I had to wash it off...I jumped in the shower and tried to get it all off.  As I looked up at the ceiling I could see my new reflection in our rainfall shower head.  I was surprised, because it didn't scare me. 

After my shower I wanted to put on makeup.  We had no other plans for the day, but I just had to put on some makeup and put myself together.  So I did...I did my makeup and got dressed.  As I did my makeup, I realized that my face looked the same.  There wasn't any hair on my head, but I still looked like me.  Losing my hair didn't change everything.  

Weeks ago, my mom, sister and I went to a wig store in North Park.  Amy was the one who found it, as she had used it in her theater days.  It is THE wig place in San Diego...any drag queen in town would tell you.  But seriously, Maria at "Secrets Wig Design" (how appropriate is that name?) is amazing.  She helped me to find and order the best wig to match my hair. And I feel beyond fortunate because my Mom gifted me this beautiful wig.  Not all women who go through this are so lucky to have the resources to purchase a head covering that helps them to feel as close to normal as possible...but once again, I am blessed.  

With my makeup done, my clean clothes on, and my eyes finally dry for the first time in days...I put my new wig on my head and walked into the room where Josh and the girls were watching a movie.  The expressions on their faces reassured me that I could get through these months ahead without my hair.  Josh told me how great it looked, that it looked like me...that he wouldn't be able to tell it was a wig if he didn't know it.  Mia and Harper kept running their fingers through my new hair.  Mia told me it looked like my hair.  Harper told me "Pitty. Pitty, Mama."  

 

With that saga behind us...Josh, the girls and I went out to dinner.  We didn't call it a celebration dinner, but to me...it was.  I had lost all of my hair and I survived.  I wanted to celebrate.  My girls still loved me, my husband still loved me.  No one was embarrassed of me.  The mystery was gone...the vanity was gone...and I realized that this was about getting healthy and healing.  When my treatment is over, my hair will grow back...and until then, I can deal without it.  

Second round of chemo is this Friday.  Love and thanks to all of you... 

My (lack of) MRI Results...

This is gonna be a short one...and a happy one.  Promise. 

Today was a good day.  For the first time since chemo, I woke up without a headache.  It's now 8:30p.m. and I still don't have a headache.  The relief is amazing.  Today, I got to be "normal" Lindsay.  I took my kiddos to school, played with my little Harper at her mommy and me class...and even did some cooking.  Yes, today was a good day.

Of course, I did have to go today for my "STAT" MRI.  Josh worked his schedule so that he could come with me, while my Mom watched Harper, and Mia played at a friend's house.  Josh and I arrived right on time for check-in...I filled out all of my paperwork.  Most of it had to do with asking about things like previous surgeries, do I have any metal in my body?  How about a pacemaker? Artificial hip? Steel rods?  Any sort of implant?  How about tissue expanders?  Check.  For the first time ever, I had to check "yes" to one of those boxes.  I DO have tissue expanders...my little friends that are preparing my body for my final reconstructive surgery when all of my treatment is over.

The technician called me back, wanded my down (like they do at the airport), and had me change into a robe.  Then he asked me,

"So, these tissue expanders...do you know what kind they are?  Do you have the model number?"

"Uh, no."

"Ok, well I'm going to have to call your doctor and see, because some expanders have a little magnetic port in them, and that would not work for you to be under the Magnet of the MRI."

"Sure."  So, I gave him Dr. McDreamy's number.  Josh and I didn't think anything of it, until the tech came out and said, 

"No MRI today.  Your expanders have magnetic metal in them.  You can't have an MRI until they come out. I guess you should discuss it with your doctor and see what other measures he wants to take."

All the while, I'm thinking...well, my headache is gone, maybe I don't need the MRI.  And, in a nutshell, that is the ending to this story.  

Josh and I went to Dr. Banerjee's office and talked with the nurse practitioner.  Dr. Banerjee was already gone for the day.  Of course, this was a classic case of one hand not talking to the other.  Banerjee's office knew that I had tissue expanders of course, but whomever scheduled the MRI didn't mention them, or the MRI person on the other end didn't ask enough for my doctor to inquire as to what type of expanders I had.  It was a mix-up for sure, but I think it was a happy accident.  Just another example of the Lord taking over and giving me His answer.  

In the end, the decision was that I don't need a scan.  If my headaches come back without explanation, then sure, they will do a CT Scan.  For now, there is no point in looking for an explanation to a problem that is no longer there.  There are about a million reasons why I would get a tension headache...the chemo drugs, the prescription drugs I've been taking that I've never taken before, the stress of all of this, lack of sleep (despite taking Ambien every night), taking Ambien every night (which I've never taken before).  That's my theory...the Ambien.  I've taken Ambien since the night of my chemo, to help make sure I get a good sleep, and it's never really worked.  I've woken up multiple times just about every night, and I usually never get close to a full 8 hours of sleep.  Night before last, it dawned on me...why am I taking this pill that isn't doing it's job?  So, I skipped the Ambien.  When did my headaches stop?  Yesterday.  Skipped the Ambien last night (and slept great), and no headache today.  Voila.

So, thank you to all of you who have asked how my MRI went.  In the end, it went well, because it didn't go at all, because I didn't need it at all.  I'm trusting in God that my storm really has run out of rain and that there is nothing else for me to worry about except finishing the treatment path before me.  Thank you all for your prayers...they worked in a way better than I could have imagined.  Good night!

 

My truth about Chemo (so far)...

First off, I have to apologize.  I certainly didn't intend for this blog to be a downer.  However, when you're writing about cancer, surgery, chemo and all that goes with it, I guess that is somewhat inevitable.  I just want to say to all of you, that I won't be offended if you don't read my posts...or if you wait to read them until you are ready.  I'm not writing this blog for an audience...my main purpose is to look back on this journey from a better place and see how far I've come.  To see what I've overcome.  I want to see how I leaned on the support of family and friends, on God, and how I did not go this battle alone.  Additionally, so many of you are so sweet to ask me or my family how I'm doing, and I thought that sharing these journals may help to give you some real insight into what's going on with me.  And I want to tell you all this:  Even though chemo is rough, and going through all of this is the hardest thing I have EVER had to do, I am doing well.  Even when I don't think I'm doing well, I am doing well.  Despite it all, my body is more healthy than it is sick, and I will do my part to make it as healthy as it can be.  Yes I will have ups and downs and good days and bad days, but I am alive.  I have my children, my husband, my pets, my family, my friends, people I didn't even know were my friends all around me and I am well.  Over the next few months I may feel sick, I may not want to get up in the morning, but I will not give in to that.  My doctors and other survivors have told me that the best thing I can do is to remain active, and that is what I am doing and what I will continue to do...I will go for walks and take in the beautiful world that God has created, remembering to appreciate the country I live in, the city I live in, and the beautiful home I am blessed to live in.  Though it is easy to allow "cancer" to consume my thoughts, I don't want it to.  I want to stay in the land of the healthy, the normal, the everyday.  Though my posts may be largely about my cancer battle, it is not who I am.  I am still just Lindsay, and when all of this is behind me, I will still be Lindsay...except, maybe a little stronger, with a few more battle scars.

OK...enough of that.  I am happy to report that we now have cable and Internet in our home.  I have been relishing all of my terrible reality TV shows that I know rot my mind but give me so much guilty pleasure.  To be honest, having a cleansing from cable and the Internet was actually a really good thing...I've found that I don't even want to watch TV as much as I did before...but every now and then a good BRAVO show doesn't hurt.

Back to the yucky stuff.  Today is day 11 post-chemo, and I have to say that each day since my treatment has brought something new.  The days immediately following chemo were good, really.  As the doctors and nurses said, the steroids help you to feel well.  Susan, the nurse practitioner at Dr. Banerjee's said, "You'll really understand why all of those professional athletes take steroids...they make you feel great!"  That's kind of true...in the first few days after chemo, I felt fine--just maybe a little weird.  A breast cancer survivor I've been in contact with described it as the BUZZ...you kind of feel like you're buzzing.  Not like buzzing after a few cocktails, but like your body is literally buzzing -- you're wired.  You want to keep moving, do something, be productive.  This all worked to my advantage given the fact that we are still unpacking and settling into our new house.  I was quite productive in the first few days after treatment.   

On day 2 however, a few changes started taking place.  I still felt well overall, but my mouth was sore...my gums ached.  Brushing my teeth in the morning I spit out pink foam...my gums were bleeding.  Called Susan and she told me that this is totally normal.  She recommended that I rinse my mouth with warm water with baking soda and salt after every meal.  So, I've been doing that.  Day before yesterday, however, a mouth sore sprung up on my tongue...yuck.  Today there is a small cluster of them around the big one.  Susan called in a prescription for some lidocaine gel to numb the pain, but nothing will really help it to go away except for getting the chemo drugs out of my system.  Totally gross, but evidently, totally normal. 

Day 2 is also the day that the headache began.  It feels like a tension headache, right in my temples.  It goes up and down in severity, but since day 2 it hasn't gone away.  The headache is exacerbated by the fact that sometimes my scalp burns.  Evidently, this sensation is a precursor to losing my hair.  All of the hair follicles are dying and it hurts.  Other ladies have told me that it physically hurts when your hair falls out...another lovely fun fact.  

One of the main surprises has been nausea.  I really haven't had any (knock on wood).  Granted, they gave me a large dose of long-lasting anti-nausea medication in my IV when I was getting treatment, so apparently, that has done it's job.  I think there were a couple times on day 3 and 4 that I felt a small wave of nausea.  Just for a second, and I immediately took the Reglan that I was prescribed.  That was the end of that...nothing has come back. 

Let's see, what else...oh, my skin.  I know all of our hands are really dry right now because of the change in the air and the seasons, but my hands are SO DRY.  I put lotion on 10 times a day and it just absorbs immediately...my knuckles are red and cracked and I've developed a little bit of a bumpy rash on my hands...just from the dryness.  My hands are a mess. I'm looking forward to getting a manicure before my next treatment, when my blood count and immune system have recovered.   

That's the other thing, my immune system.  On Friday I had my 1-week recheck with Dr. Banerjee.  This time I got to bypass the chemo lounge and go straight into an exam room.  Dr. Banerjee's nurse, Ninette, took some blood for a CBC (complete blood count).  She only had to stick me once!  She said that 10 years of experience as a combat nurse helped her to make sure she only has to stick once.  Where was she last Friday?  They do the CBC to look at my red blood cells and white blood cells and make sure they are not too low.  It is normal for them to be low, because the chemo is killing them along with the cancer cells.  

So, after Ninette took blood, I got to talk with Dr. Banerjee himself.  He wanted to hear everything...all of my symptoms and side effects and I told him all of them.  When I told him about my headaches, he explained that the anti-nausea medication I received in my IV has headaches as a possible side effect.  He explained that some people who are prone to headaches (which I am), do experience headaches, but it's a balancing act because the drug is very effective at curtailing nausea (which it clearly has been for me).  He told me that he would adjust my "cocktail" for next time and find the perfect balance for me so that I don't have to endure this headache every time, and to still make sure that I "WILL NOT THROW UP."  He did a physical exam and seemed pleased with everything...

"Let's just wait on those blood test results and I'll come back to discuss them."  

Ninette came back into the room and told me that my white count was a little low.  It was low, but normal for someone at my stage in treatment.  This meant that I had to get an injection of Neulasta, which is something I will likely have to get after each chemo treatment.  Neulasta is a drug that tells your bone marrow to make more white blood cells.  It helps to ensure that people on chemo are not so susceptible to infection because their immune system is so compromised.  Of course, like everything else, Neulasta has side effects...the primary of which is bone pain.  Your bones can ache as they are stimulated to produce more white blood cells.  Dr. Banerjee recommended I take Claritin (go figure) and Aleve right away to prevent the bone pain and to continue it if I still experience the pain.

My visit to Dr. Banerjee also cemented the fact that I will be getting a portable catheter for my upcoming chemo treatments.  They discussed this possibility before I started chemo, but we held off because of my "beautiful veins."  Well, after the tragedy that was the last attempt at my chemo IV, I am more than willing to sign up for a PORT.  PORT will be a small device placed under the skin near my collarbone that will provide direct access to my veins for future IV's.  It will save me the pain of needle sticks and also insure that my veins remain healthy for the rest of my life.  Placing the port is a procedure that is done outpatient, and I won't be under general anesthesia, but I will be "out" in a twilight sleep state.  Looks like my PORT is going in on Friday.  Prayers are appreciated.  

So now, 3 days after my re-check, I am definitely feeling the bone pain.  It's so odd.  It also comes in waves and shoots down my spine into my lower back.  Sometimes in comes in the form of my ribs and sternum aching and throbbing.  Other times it runs along my forehead and down the between my eyes on the bridge of my nose.  It also aches in my pelvis, my hips, and my thigh bones.  I called the office yesterday to let them know that I was still experiencing the bone pain despite the Claritin and Aleve, and oh-by-the-way, is there anything more I should do with this headache?

The good news was that the bone pain is totally temporary and should wear off in a day or two.  In the meantime, Susan prescribed me some prescription strength Ibuprofen, and if it's really severe I can take my Vicodin from Dr. Bolitho.  As soon as I finish this post, I'll go take my pain meds because my bones are feeling pretty achy right now.  

The bad news was that they are ordering a STAT MRI of head.  Eeesh.  I thought all of this was over...I thought that the PET scan was all they needed to be sure that there wasn't anything else anywhere.  Well, I guess not...or maybe so, but they need extra insight into what is going on with my headaches.  Today, the headache has actually been a lot better, so I'm sure that it is just a side effect of the chemo and that the MRI will reflect that.  But still, it's scary.  I have the MRI tomorrow (Wednesday) at 3pm.  Please say a prayer that the MRI will be clear and that I am able to get some relief from the headaches. 

Are you still with me?  I'm sure those of you that have asked how I'm feeling are regretting it now, but this is pretty much a complete picture of everything...that, and yes, I am tired.  I tire out more easily on some days, but on others my energy seems to be fairly normal.  Today was a tired day, and I got a quick nap in this afternoon before my darling Mia woke me up to cuddle.  Not a bad way to wake up.

Also in happy news, my incision that had to be revised has healed and I am able to take normal showers again!  YAY!  Additionally, as a preemptive strike, I cut my hair.  It's the shortest I've ever had it and I'm enjoying this fun new cut for the last few days that I can.  They say that hair loss starts anywhere from day 14 to day 21, so I know my chic new 'do is not long for this world.  Here's a pic:

I've said it before, and I'll say it again...I'm really sad to lose my hair.  But, the inevitability of losing it gave me the bravery to cut about a foot of it off and realize that my long hair doesn't define who I am, and I can still feel good about myself without it.  And if I don't feel good about myself without it when it's all gone, you know I have a killer wig waiting in the wings.

More happy news: Our sweet Harper turned 2 on Sunday.  She didn't get a party with fanfare and all of the trimmings (Mommy couldn't get it together--her 3rd birthday party will be off the chain!), but she did get two lovely birthday dinners with her family...and some presents...and cake, natch. 

Goodnight everyone :). xoxox- L

Chemo-Schmemo.

I am currently 10 days post-chemo.  In a nutshell, I would say my experience so far has been really positive all at once while being totally and utterly terrifying.  I'll explain...

On Friday December 27th, two days after celebrating Christmas, I walked in to Dr. Banerjee's office for my first dose of chemotherapy.  This time it was my mom and I...and the morning started off pretty rocky.  As I mentioned, we moved in to our beautiful new house on December 21st (4 days before Christmas and 6 days before chemo).  The move actually went great and we were fairly settled in and comfortable in our home by this time, but there was one small issue that, by the time "chemo day" rolled around had become the bane of my existence.  That issue was trying to get our phone/cable/internet installed.  Long story short, we had 4 separate technicians from AT&T out to the house on various days, all whom were unsuccessful in getting us service, and I spent the early morning hours of "chemo day" on hold to AT&T yet again, listening to the annoying music and pre-recordings tellling me that my problems could be solved by going to the AT&T website (seriously?) and touting how wonderful U-Verse is and all of that bull-oney.   I was hoping to get someone who actually knew what they were doing out to our house so that while I was getting chemo, Josh could be home facilitating these projects that had to get done.  We had gone 6 days with no connection to the outside world, and were beginning to go a bit batty (even batty-er than before.)  

So, on Chemo Morning, I was frustrated with the AT&T situation, but really it was so much more than that.  I was absolutely terrified about beginning chemotherapy.  On one hand I was nervous about starting the ball rolling on all of the side effects that they tell you about...nausea, mouth sores, constipation or diarrhea, loss of appetite, loss of taste...just to name a few.  Oh, and of course, the hair loss.  To be honest, I really wasn't all that worried about the physical side effects (minus the hair loss).  At this point in my recovery, I have come to see myself as a fairly strong individual.  I've handled 2 cesarean sections fairly well, a double mastectomy that really didn't seem to be the big scary deal that I was expecting it to be (thanks to the proper narcotic pain meds)...and it always seems that what is horrible for a lot of patients just doesn't seem to be so bad for me.  Call it a high tolerance to pain, or chock it up to the fact that I am young and in good shape, but I knew that my body could make it through the rigors of chemotherapy.  However, the reason why I couldn't seem to stop myself from crying on "Chemo Morning" was that I didn't know if I was mentally prepared for the road ahead.  I saw "Chemo Morning" as my last day to feel normal...the last day that I would not be a "sick person" going through CHEMOTHERAPY and all that implies.  Honestly, after my diagnosis and even after my surgery, I was scared for sure, but I never felt that I was "sick."  I was recovering, I had stitches and scars, but I wasn't sick.  I felt well...people told me that I looked well.  I feared that "Chemo Morning" was going to be the end of all of that...the end of being just NORMAL Lindsay.  After Chemo started, I would become the bald "cancer patient"...and even after chemo is over, I will still be the bald "cancer patient" that has to go to radiation every day...and then that brings a whole new slew of issues...so really, the fear on "Chemo Morning" was a lot more than just getting these medications in my arm...it was about losing my ability to pretend that I was normal...to blend in as someone that no one would guess had just been diagnosed with breast cancer 2 months before, someone who just had a mastectomy 1.5 months before.  Chemo was going to blow my cover. 

So, I cried getting ready in the morning, I cried on the ride to the doctor's office, I cried walking in to the doctor's office...and then, I tried to pull it together.  The room was absolutely full of other patients receiving chemotherapy and other treatments.  Most people were already hooked up to their IV's, looking relaxed in their chairs...on their computers, napping, reading a magazine, talking with a friend.  If these folks could handle this, then I definitely should not be crying anymore.  

The "Room" is a lounge on the right side of the doctors' office with sunny windows and paintings of palm trees silhouetted against burning orange and red sunsets.  There are about 8 cushy leather recliners for patients to sit in while getting treatment, and snacks on a counter at one end of the room...couldn't help myself but the Doritos caught my eye.  Definitely NOT on the Anti-Cancer Diet.  Resist.  It seemed apparent that the "room" was designed to be relaxing and comfortable to hide what it actually was...the scariest room imaginable.  Sorry, Oncology and Hematology Specialists, but your palm tree prints from Bed Bath and Beyond did not fool me.

I was seated in one of the cushy recliners, while my mom was offered a tiny little folding chair to sit on.  Immediately, I focused on figuring out which recliner was going to free up so that she could sit in one as well.  But, first things first...they had to get some blood from me before we could get started.  I have "beautiful veins", I am told by just about every phlebotomist and nurse that I encounter, so it's never really scary to get bloodwork, or an IV...but today, was a different story.  The chemo nurse with 20 years of experience could barely get one vial of blood out of my vein...she was massaging it and rubbing it, but it was not putting out what she needed. She was afraid that the vein had infiltrated...so she tried another spot on my arm.  

The second site blew up like a balloon and it was clear that she had gone through that vein as well.  She gave me a break and put a heating pad on my arm...called over one of her colleagues.  After about 30 minutes of waiting, Brandi came over and assured me that she would get me on the first stick.  Two sticks and two blown veins later, and I couldn't handle it anymore.  The crying came back.  I couldn't help it!  What the heck...I'm here for chemotherapy, which I would rather gouge my eyes out with plastic spoons than get, but I'm here...I'm ready...it's been over an hour and they still can't even get my blood?  It was just too much for me...I couldn't choke back the pain and frustration anymore...so I just cried.  The nurses and my mom tried to console me...telling me that this shouldn't happen to anyone, let alone on their first time, two days after Christmas no less.  

She tries again.  It's a bloody mess.  Finally she gets an IV in the underside of my arm, right where it bends at the elbow...but the IV is in and she gets her final two vials of blood.  Now I'm supposed to wait again while they get their stuff ready for me...
Every nurse keeps coming by to check the IV.  No one (including my Mom- a former RN) can believe that she actually got a good IV, but it seems to be working.  They finally hook me up to a bag of saline and anti-nausea and steroid medication.  This will get my body prepped for the chemo drugs that they will administer later. The steroids help to deter any sort of allergic reactions to the drugs, which is a rare occurence, but still one that they account for.  

So, we sit, and I finally get on to WIFI to check the weeks worth of emails that I've missed...I pay bills, order things for the new house...check Facebook.  So far, having a bit of undisturbed alone time isn't so bad.  

After about an hour and a half, they are finally ready to start me on the first chemo drug: Taxotere (this is the one I've been dreading, because it's the one that means I will lose my hair)...but my mom and husband keep reminding me, that is just because the medicine works, and with each hair follicle that is killed...so is any remaining cancer cell in my body.  I know this is true...I know this is good.  But I still hate Taxotere and don't want to lose my hair.  I think I'm allowed to protest in spite of its necessity. :)  As the nurse starts my drip she reminds me to let her know if I'm feeling different in any way...if I feel hot, a tickle in the back of my throat, anything. 

After about 10 minutes of chatting, my Mom and I have formulated a plan for lunch...I'll start reading my Kindle while she goes to pick up some sandwiches from a restaurant near by.  I've texted her my order, and she's set to go.  She just starts to stand up to leave when, 

"Wait Mom, my throat does feel a little funny."

Before she even gets the nearby nurse to turn around I feel that my throat is being strangled.  Not the choking hands that I've had on my neck during times of panic and anxiety, but literally the strangling of my throat closing and my head going hot and then PRESSURE.  My head is going to explode.  It all happens in about 5 seconds.  My mom runs back over....

"Lindsay are you ok?  You're all flushed!"  (She told me later that my face looked beet red.)

I can't respond...I can only grunt "uh-uh."  She tells me to breathe, take deep breaths...which I do.  I can breathe, but it feels like I can't...

By now, both nurses and the nurse practitioner are hovering over my little recliner.  One of them stops the drip of the taxotere, the other is putting a blood pressure cuff on my one good arm (the arm that has had 4 needle pokes and 5th resulting in an IV)...and the cuff begins to squeeze.  The veins that have just been mutliated throb with every squeeze of the cuff, and I'm afraid that my "good IV" is just going to pop right out.  My blood pressure is low, 80/60.  

Susan, the nurse practitioner, explains to me that I have had an allergic reaction to the taxototere, after only receiving it for about 10 minutes.  While these reactions are uncommon, they only occur in about 2-10% of people, they are prepared with how to deal with it.  My fear then speaks up, "Does this mean that I can't get the taxotere?"  I'm surprised that I now know that I want to get this horrible drug, because this drug is my only shot at making sure that we kill any and all of this crazy cancer that may or may not be lurking around in my body.

"Oh, you'll get the taxotere, sweetie.  One way or another, you're going to get it.  We're gonna give you some benadryl, and some more steroids...the steroids will help with the allergic reaction.  And when we get all of those into you, then we will start it again, and just watch you really closely...we'll have to slow the drip way down...so this is going to take a while longer.  And even though the benadryl is going to make you feel very woozy and sleepy, you're not going to like me, because all of these steroids are going to make you very awake...you may need some help getting to sleep tonight."

Oy.  Well, that was interesting.  I stop to get up to the bathroom before we get started again...I am very woozy from the benadryl, but at least my head seems to have deflated and I can breathe again...I think we were on about hour 3 at this point, with a long road yet ahead.  My mom reminds me that "of course this would happen to you...nothing about this experience is going to be "normal" to you!"  Better to have gotten this out of the way on your first day, and now they are going to know just how to handle you from this point on.  I sure hope so.

The minutes tick by, and the benadryl has made it so that I can't keep my eyes open, yet the steroids have my mind wide awake.  So, I lay my head back just listening to the sounds of the "Chemo Lounge" and its banter, IV's beeping, nurses talking.  It's all actually quite entertaining...but next time, maybe I'll bring some ear plugs.  

The nurse lets me know that she's starting the Taxotere again...but very slowly.  Again, tell her if I start to feel anything at all.  Oh, I definitely will!  But no, nothing comes...apparently once your body reacts to the drug once, it then becomes familiar with it and usually doesn't react a second time.  Thankfully, that's how it went for me, and after about 3 hours...I finished the taxotere.

Next came Cytoxin, which doens't have any of the same concerns regarding allergic reactions, so we were pretty relaxed at this point.  Not to mention the fact that the totally full chemo room had cleared out to just my mom and I and maybe two other people...an hour later and it was just us.  The office was closing and the chemo nurses were sticking around just for me.  

Finally, at the 9th hour...yes literally 9 hours later, I finished the bag of Cytoxin and the nurse told me I was free to go home and rest.  They reminded me that the steroids would have me feeling pretty well for the first two days post-chemo, but to beware, because if I over did it, the feeling of fatigue and nausea could hit pretty hard on day 3 or 4.

So that was it...that was my first round of chemo--down.  Now to wait 21 days before the next treatment...and so on for 5 more cycles...

After leaving and heading home, I can't even remember what I did.  I know I hugged the girls, and I hugged Josh...so happy to be back with them and out of that office.  But, if you could believe it...AT&T still couldn't set up our service.  We would now have to wait an additional week for Time Warner Cable to come out and solve all of our problems...the most pressing issue being...

"Seriously though...when can I watch The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and Vanderpump Rules?  If I have to do this chemo stuff, I need my shows."  


**This wasn't a fun or funny post...sorry guys.  It wasn't a fun day.  But I thank you all for your prayers and hopefully ask for you to keep them coming.  I'll write another post tomorrow about what it's been like after chemo, and how I'm feeling, but for now, I'm feeling tired...just wanted to get this much out there tonight...More tomorrow.  xo, L.