My friends and colleagues wore pink in my honor on my last chemotherapy day!
Thursday, January 29, 2009
The Last Chemo Treatment!
Thanks to Dennis, my nurse, I had a one-shot needle insertion!
Betsy bought me the warriors shawl from Ford. It is beautiful and kept me warm during my last treatment.
(I LOVE shawls!)
(I LOVE shawls!)
Gary keeps me smiling!
Plugged in with blankets in place.
This has been a very exciting day. I completed my chemotherapy today! The experience was uneventful. Thoroughly medicated with Valium, Gary and I trekked to the oncologist’s office once again. Betsy had to work and attend classes while Katie spent the entire morning in class. Katie surprised me with a Demdaco collectible--the "Congratulations Child" and a card that made me weep. After arriving at the office, I met with the doctor who asked to hear once again the list of symptoms I experienced this time. Upon hearing my bizarre list of symptoms, he simply said that he was glad this would be my last treatment. I agreed.
I was sent to the “special” room for patients who need unusual care. (Actually, I think they just don’t want me to scare off the other patients during the needle insertion process or the breathing cessation experiences.) However, I did quite nicely today. I immediately hung my arm over the side of the chair, had previously drunk three big bottles of water, and placed a hot rice bag (prepared by Gary) on my arm to encourage plump, happy veins as I waited for the nurse. My nurse, Dennis (who couldn't find me since I was in the little room and not in the big room with the "regular" patients), was quite impressed with my work. He said that whatever I had done had produced three interesting sticking possibilities. He said he would first try the spot about three inches below the bend in my arm. He warned me that it was usually a tender spot; I said I was game, so the process began. The needle slid right in. Dennis said, “Let’s see if it works.” I held my breath as he started the drip. VOILA! It worked. My worries were for nothing.
The first bag was filled with Benadryl to ensure that my throat wouldn’t swell; consequently, I slept through most of the treatment. Gary sat by my side and read, making me laugh in my lucid moments. Before I knew it, the treatment was over, the needle was removed, and away we went.
Of course, we dined at The Chop House. I once again had baked schrod, and Gary once again had chicken fried chicken. Not a very adventuresome after-chemo meal—but excellent choices (once again), if I do say so myself.
My theory about the relative ease of this final treatment is that my friends and colleagues from school wore pink today in my honor. It was “twin day” for spirit week—an annual high school phenomenon. A group of my friends decided to be "twins" (or multiples or something like that) in pink in order to send me strong “pink power vibes” during my last treatment. It worked. I was particularly impressed that David Owen found or borrowed a pink shirt for the event. As I have said before, friends rock!!
I was sent to the “special” room for patients who need unusual care. (Actually, I think they just don’t want me to scare off the other patients during the needle insertion process or the breathing cessation experiences.) However, I did quite nicely today. I immediately hung my arm over the side of the chair, had previously drunk three big bottles of water, and placed a hot rice bag (prepared by Gary) on my arm to encourage plump, happy veins as I waited for the nurse. My nurse, Dennis (who couldn't find me since I was in the little room and not in the big room with the "regular" patients), was quite impressed with my work. He said that whatever I had done had produced three interesting sticking possibilities. He said he would first try the spot about three inches below the bend in my arm. He warned me that it was usually a tender spot; I said I was game, so the process began. The needle slid right in. Dennis said, “Let’s see if it works.” I held my breath as he started the drip. VOILA! It worked. My worries were for nothing.
The first bag was filled with Benadryl to ensure that my throat wouldn’t swell; consequently, I slept through most of the treatment. Gary sat by my side and read, making me laugh in my lucid moments. Before I knew it, the treatment was over, the needle was removed, and away we went.
Of course, we dined at The Chop House. I once again had baked schrod, and Gary once again had chicken fried chicken. Not a very adventuresome after-chemo meal—but excellent choices (once again), if I do say so myself.
My theory about the relative ease of this final treatment is that my friends and colleagues from school wore pink today in my honor. It was “twin day” for spirit week—an annual high school phenomenon. A group of my friends decided to be "twins" (or multiples or something like that) in pink in order to send me strong “pink power vibes” during my last treatment. It worked. I was particularly impressed that David Owen found or borrowed a pink shirt for the event. As I have said before, friends rock!!
Loving Donations of Locks -- Heather Hyatt (top) and Taylor James (below)
Two of my students were inspired by my cancer experience to cut their beautiful locks and donate their hair for wigs. Taylor James and Heather Hyatt had their hairdressers cut many, many inches of hair to contribute to a very worthwhile cause. I am so proud of them!
Speaking of hair donations, a very dear PTA volunteer at Gary’s school approached him one day and told him that she hadn’t cut her hair (which is a beautiful shade of red) for seven years, since her son’s birth. She graciously offered to cut her hair to have a wig made for me. I had already purchased a wig, but Gary and I were so touched at her selflessness and generosity. The world is full of giving and amazing individuals. Our family is indeed fortunate to be surrounded by such people.
Speaking of hair donations, a very dear PTA volunteer at Gary’s school approached him one day and told him that she hadn’t cut her hair (which is a beautiful shade of red) for seven years, since her son’s birth. She graciously offered to cut her hair to have a wig made for me. I had already purchased a wig, but Gary and I were so touched at her selflessness and generosity. The world is full of giving and amazing individuals. Our family is indeed fortunate to be surrounded by such people.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
The Human Pin Cusion: Chemo Number Three
My third chemo treatment was last Thursday, a week ago. This is the first opportunity that I have felt well enough and had enough time to write about it. That‘s probably a good thing. I have a better sense of humor about it now than I did a week ago.
I guess the best way to describe the experience is to say that I was like a human pin cushion—keep in mind my aversion to needles. The nurse who was my sticker person is usually a cracker jack at hitting veins the first time. Granted, my veins are less than plump—not exactly a nurse’s dream.
She first tried the vein in my wrist. It blew and is still numb. She tired the top of my hand and shook her head. I knew that one wasn’t happening. She tried a little to the left of the second attempt, and I sobbed as she again shook her head. The nurse, Gary, and I were all beginning to wonder if this chemo was ever going to happen. Perhaps I could just drink the stuff. I didn’t ask. I knew the answer. (I had already asked once before.) Finally, she decided to resort to the vein in the bend in my arm—not an acceptable site for chemo but probably the only vein worthy of further consideration. Voila! She was successful. The needle was in. She didn’t even move me from the back room where the “special” patients go. (I usually go there for needle insertion and then move out with the “regular” folks after my needle trauma is over.) This chemo day, I would sit alone with Gary. We visited for several hours, as the drip ensued. The door opened, and Katie popped in! What a cool surprise; she told me she had work to do after class, but she surprised me instead. The joy of daughters. Betsy had to work, but she was there in spirit. Finally, one more treatment was down, and we went for our “chemo lunch” at The Chop House.
My recovery time was very strange. I felt like an old woman. Gary gave me the $4,500 shot on the second day. The strange bone aches began. I was unstable and bumped into walls occasionally. Betsy and Katie had too much fun at my expense—chemo mom in action. Actually, a nurse explained that the Abraxane (the new drug) was affecting my blood pressure, making it irregular on each side of my body; therefore, I lost my balance a good bit. I wasn’t well enough to go back to work until the following Wednesday! I was beginning to get senile. Gary, Betsy, and Katie took amazing care of me, meeting my every need. They medicated me, shopped for me, cooked for me, and kept me from bumping into things.
The only thing I could really do was watch television, so I spent a good bit of time watching Grey’s Anatomy. I am now an addict. I think I watched for twelve hours straight one day. (Not bad for someone who is definitely not a television person.)
Being back at school has been wonderful. I’m back in full swing, looking forward to another long weekend, thanks to Martin Luther King Day! Hopefully, I can fend for myself this weekend.
I guess the best way to describe the experience is to say that I was like a human pin cushion—keep in mind my aversion to needles. The nurse who was my sticker person is usually a cracker jack at hitting veins the first time. Granted, my veins are less than plump—not exactly a nurse’s dream.
She first tried the vein in my wrist. It blew and is still numb. She tired the top of my hand and shook her head. I knew that one wasn’t happening. She tried a little to the left of the second attempt, and I sobbed as she again shook her head. The nurse, Gary, and I were all beginning to wonder if this chemo was ever going to happen. Perhaps I could just drink the stuff. I didn’t ask. I knew the answer. (I had already asked once before.) Finally, she decided to resort to the vein in the bend in my arm—not an acceptable site for chemo but probably the only vein worthy of further consideration. Voila! She was successful. The needle was in. She didn’t even move me from the back room where the “special” patients go. (I usually go there for needle insertion and then move out with the “regular” folks after my needle trauma is over.) This chemo day, I would sit alone with Gary. We visited for several hours, as the drip ensued. The door opened, and Katie popped in! What a cool surprise; she told me she had work to do after class, but she surprised me instead. The joy of daughters. Betsy had to work, but she was there in spirit. Finally, one more treatment was down, and we went for our “chemo lunch” at The Chop House.
My recovery time was very strange. I felt like an old woman. Gary gave me the $4,500 shot on the second day. The strange bone aches began. I was unstable and bumped into walls occasionally. Betsy and Katie had too much fun at my expense—chemo mom in action. Actually, a nurse explained that the Abraxane (the new drug) was affecting my blood pressure, making it irregular on each side of my body; therefore, I lost my balance a good bit. I wasn’t well enough to go back to work until the following Wednesday! I was beginning to get senile. Gary, Betsy, and Katie took amazing care of me, meeting my every need. They medicated me, shopped for me, cooked for me, and kept me from bumping into things.
The only thing I could really do was watch television, so I spent a good bit of time watching Grey’s Anatomy. I am now an addict. I think I watched for twelve hours straight one day. (Not bad for someone who is definitely not a television person.)
Being back at school has been wonderful. I’m back in full swing, looking forward to another long weekend, thanks to Martin Luther King Day! Hopefully, I can fend for myself this weekend.
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