Most people probably saw that I posted immediately on Facebook that the results of my scan were good. Since then it's been a whirlwind of activity. As I had mentioned my mom is visiting. We took the whole family out to dinner on Friday night. Saturday we had a celebratory brunch at a friend's house. Saturday night I babysat for for another friend. To top it off my mom brought the the family a Christmas present - a super fancy keyboard - and we've been setting that up and playing with it. I am enjoying a morning that really does feel like Christmas. A hot cup of coffee, I got to sleep in, and the kids are busily playing with a present without fighting.
So trying to remember back to Friday afternoon. My doctor said my CAT scan was "perfect". There was no sign of anything troubling. He also used the "R" word - remission! With that good news comes other news, which I had anticipated; I don't have to go back for another 3 months. He actually offered that I could come back sooner since some people have a hard time going from the intensity of treatment to no doctor's visits. I know exactly what he meant since right at the end of radiation I felt somewhat like I had been dumped, but now that I haven't seen a doctor in a few weeks I'm not feeling the need to go back any time soon.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
news flash: anticipation sucks
I went for my long-anticipated CAT scan yesterday. You can see I had a barium drink. No, it wasn't a delicious shake like the nurse promised. Then they "accessed" my power port. Yeah - it looks like fun, doesn't it? I was then injected with contrast dye and scanned (you can see squiggly the tube in the third picture attached to the dye dispenser). Overall a quick procedure, about an hour all said and done. Now I'm just waiting for the results. I have my doctor's appointment at 1:30 pm (it's noon now) and I've been able to keep my mind off it for most of the day, but I am not looking forward to hanging out and waiting... and waiting... and waiting... Doctors' appointment time slots seem to be more general guidelines than specific time slots, so I'm taking my new iPhone, Todd, and my mom to entertain me and keep me from chewing off my fingernails. 
Monday, November 1, 2010
And time slips by
It seems hard to remember what things were like about a month ago. I was still in treatment a month ago. I have never posted things on the blog to get people to be proud of me or to inspire someone. I'm just trying my darnedest to cope with things. Having cancer sucked. A lot. But I think we all cope with things in different ways. My way of coping was not consciously to be strong and brave. It just seems that way on the outside. On the inside I wasn't actually coping. It was really denial that made me seems so strong. I just ignored it all. A minor inconvenience in my life. Sure, sometimes I broke down and was freaked out, but overall I had just compartmentalized this crappy little experience and tried to ignore it. That's probably the only way I was capable of dealing with it. I had (and still have) too much life and living to do that I don't have time to mope. I didn't want to let cancer define me. For the most part I have tried to move on. I pretend that it was just something I did for one summer and that I'm done. But the sad reality is that I'm not done. I have a CAT scan on Thursday (11/4) and then a meeting with my doctor on Friday. No big deal, right? It's just another thing that I need to do in my busy schedule. I'm trying not to think about what it means. I am certainly in denial that there could be any bad results. That's simply not an option.
Instead of hiding my head in a box of tissues I decided to do things and pretend to be super-woman. If I pretended long enough maybe it would work. This is an extreme form of denial and I don't specifically encourage people to try it themselves, but it seemed to work fine for me. So, in my little world of denial last month I was looking forward to K's first days of Kindergarten, three of my sisters visiting, the kid's birthdays, seeing my mom for her birthday, running a 1/2 marathon, seeing my brother, visiting with my nieces and of course Halloween. Just your typical busy October, right? And yes, I did a 1/2 marathon last month.
You might want a little background.... For years I have been interested in doing the Nike 1/2 marathon in SF (it happens in mid-October), but have not been able to get in. Instead, one of my friends who turned 30 on 10/10/10 convinced me to sign up for the 1/2 marathon in Victoria for that day. I then convinced some of my siblings to join me for the race weekend. We ran, walked, shopped, drank, had tea at the Empress, and had generally great weather. I am so very proud of my siblings who came and raced with me in a sign of support and celebration!
And yes, I'm very proud for running 6 days after I ended treatment. I guess that's what you can do when you're in denial. There are pictures to prove I was there (http://www.brightroom.com/go.asp?83890315) and you can search to find my time (2:35:36)! I felt great the whole time and am already looking forward to planning the next big race event.
Oh, and I can't finish a post without mentioning that I love that my hair is growing back!
Instead of hiding my head in a box of tissues I decided to do things and pretend to be super-woman. If I pretended long enough maybe it would work. This is an extreme form of denial and I don't specifically encourage people to try it themselves, but it seemed to work fine for me. So, in my little world of denial last month I was looking forward to K's first days of Kindergarten, three of my sisters visiting, the kid's birthdays, seeing my mom for her birthday, running a 1/2 marathon, seeing my brother, visiting with my nieces and of course Halloween. Just your typical busy October, right? And yes, I did a 1/2 marathon last month.
You might want a little background.... For years I have been interested in doing the Nike 1/2 marathon in SF (it happens in mid-October), but have not been able to get in. Instead, one of my friends who turned 30 on 10/10/10 convinced me to sign up for the 1/2 marathon in Victoria for that day. I then convinced some of my siblings to join me for the race weekend. We ran, walked, shopped, drank, had tea at the Empress, and had generally great weather. I am so very proud of my siblings who came and raced with me in a sign of support and celebration!
And yes, I'm very proud for running 6 days after I ended treatment. I guess that's what you can do when you're in denial. There are pictures to prove I was there (http://www.brightroom.com/go.asp?83890315) and you can search to find my time (2:35:36)! I felt great the whole time and am already looking forward to planning the next big race event.
Oh, and I can't finish a post without mentioning that I love that my hair is growing back!
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
I'm done? How did that happen?
I woke up Tuesday morning October 5th and no longer had Chemo to look forward to. I didn't have to go to radiation. I just had to face an 8 am conference call. Piece of cake to go back to work, right? It would seem so, but I will steal a quote from a friend of mine who said she was "up to her eyeballs in alligators". I like to pretend that busy hands are happy hands, but sometimes there can be too much of a good thing. I'm not all made up of clichés however, and I am looking forward to settling into a "new normal". As I've said before it's going to still be a long haul before we know for sure if all the treatments worked, but I am glad to be on the other side of them.
One of my sisters came to visit and made it just in time to accompany me to my final radiation treatment. As you can see my hair is starting to grow back, for which I am very grateful.
One of my sisters came to visit and made it just in time to accompany me to my final radiation treatment. As you can see my hair is starting to grow back, for which I am very grateful.
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| waiting for my last radiation treatment (hopefully ever) |
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| My fancy shmancy IMRT |
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| Laser guided precision |
219 zaps later and I was free to head home - hopefully to never see that machine again.
Friday, October 1, 2010
zap - 1, zap -2, zap 3....
It seems like a lot of people going through radiation for other types of cancer spend about 5 minutes with their machine. My treatment takes more like 20 minutes once they start zapping me. I mentioned before that I started counting the number of times I get zapped. It's hard to keep focused on counting for 20 minutes and your mind starts to wander, but sometimes you don't want to have your mind wander. You don't want to fixate on the fact that your foot itches, that there's a tickle in your nose, or that you feel like taking a deep breath and sighing - each of which would probably move you off your precise mark and screw the whole thing up! Nothing says hold still for 20 min like a little stress. So I have continued to try and count on a daily basis. They blast me a bunch of times and then the big machine rotates around to a new position to get a different angle. I've been able to memorize the sequence.
zap 1 zap 2 zap 3 zap 4 zap 5 zap 6 zap 7 zap 8 zap 9 zap 10 zap 11 zap 12 zap 13 zap 14 zap 15 zap 16 zap 17 zap 18 zap 19 zap 20 zap 21 zap 22 zap 23 zap 24 zap 25 zap 26 zap 27 switch zap 28 zap 29 zap 30 zap 31 zap 32 zap 33 zap 34 zap 35 zap 36 zap 37 zap 38 zap 39 zap 40 zap 41 zap 42 zap 43 zap 44 zap 45 zap 46 zap 47 zap 48 zap 49 zap 50 switch zap 51 zap 52 zap 53 zap 54 zap 55 zap 56 zap 57 zap 58 zap 59 zap 60 zap 61 zap 62 zap 63 zap 64 zap 65 zap 66 zap 67 zap 68 zap 69 zap 70 zap 71 switch zap 72 zap 73 zap 74 zap 75 zap 76 zap 77 zap 78 zap 79 zap 80 zap 81 zap 82 zap 83 zap 84 zap 85 zap 86 zap 87 zap 88 zap 89 zap 90 zap 91 zap 92 zap 93 zap 94 zap 95 zap 96 switch zap 97 zap 98 zap 99 zap 100 zap 101 zap 102 zap 103 zap 104 zap 105 zap 106 zap 107 zap 108 zap 109 zap 110 zap 111 zap 112 zap 113 zap 114 zap 115 zap 116 zap 117 zap 118 zap 119 zap 120 zap 121 switch zap 122 zap 123 zap 124 zap 125 zap 126 zap 127 zap 128 zap 129 zap 130 zap 131 zap 132 zap 133 zap 134 zap 135 zap 136 zap 137 zap 138 zap 139 zap 140 zap 141 zap 142 zap 143 switch zap 144 zap 145 zap 146 zap 147 zap 148 zap 149 zap 150 zap 151 zap 152 zap 153 zap 154 zap 155 zap 156 zap 157 zap 158 zap 159 zap 160 zap 161 zap 162 zap 163 zap 164 zap 165 zap 166 zap 167 zap 168 switch zap 169 zap 170 zap 171 zap 172 zap 173 zap 174 zap 175 zap 176 zap 177 zap 178 zap 179 zap 180 zap 181 zap 182 zap 183 zap 184 zap 185 zap 186 zap 187 zap 188 zap 189 zap 190 zap 191 switch zap 192 zap 193 zap 194 zap 195 zap 196 zap 197 zap 198 zap 199 zap 200 zap 201 zap 202 zap 203 zap 204 zap 205 zap 206 zap 207 zap 208 zap 209 zap 210 zap 211 zap 212 zap 213 zap 214 zap 215 zap 216 zap 217 zap 218 zap 219 done...
And, with one more radiation treatment on Monday I truly will be DONE with treatment - hopefully forever! But life after treatment won't be quite normal for a while. I will still get to keep my port for a few extra months. My doctor wants me to keep it in for at least a year after I end treatment. So I guess all I want for xmas this year is to be cancer free, and all I'll want next year is to get the port out.... I am looking forward to that day already.
zap 1 zap 2 zap 3 zap 4 zap 5 zap 6 zap 7 zap 8 zap 9 zap 10 zap 11 zap 12 zap 13 zap 14 zap 15 zap 16 zap 17 zap 18 zap 19 zap 20 zap 21 zap 22 zap 23 zap 24 zap 25 zap 26 zap 27 switch zap 28 zap 29 zap 30 zap 31 zap 32 zap 33 zap 34 zap 35 zap 36 zap 37 zap 38 zap 39 zap 40 zap 41 zap 42 zap 43 zap 44 zap 45 zap 46 zap 47 zap 48 zap 49 zap 50 switch zap 51 zap 52 zap 53 zap 54 zap 55 zap 56 zap 57 zap 58 zap 59 zap 60 zap 61 zap 62 zap 63 zap 64 zap 65 zap 66 zap 67 zap 68 zap 69 zap 70 zap 71 switch zap 72 zap 73 zap 74 zap 75 zap 76 zap 77 zap 78 zap 79 zap 80 zap 81 zap 82 zap 83 zap 84 zap 85 zap 86 zap 87 zap 88 zap 89 zap 90 zap 91 zap 92 zap 93 zap 94 zap 95 zap 96 switch zap 97 zap 98 zap 99 zap 100 zap 101 zap 102 zap 103 zap 104 zap 105 zap 106 zap 107 zap 108 zap 109 zap 110 zap 111 zap 112 zap 113 zap 114 zap 115 zap 116 zap 117 zap 118 zap 119 zap 120 zap 121 switch zap 122 zap 123 zap 124 zap 125 zap 126 zap 127 zap 128 zap 129 zap 130 zap 131 zap 132 zap 133 zap 134 zap 135 zap 136 zap 137 zap 138 zap 139 zap 140 zap 141 zap 142 zap 143 switch zap 144 zap 145 zap 146 zap 147 zap 148 zap 149 zap 150 zap 151 zap 152 zap 153 zap 154 zap 155 zap 156 zap 157 zap 158 zap 159 zap 160 zap 161 zap 162 zap 163 zap 164 zap 165 zap 166 zap 167 zap 168 switch zap 169 zap 170 zap 171 zap 172 zap 173 zap 174 zap 175 zap 176 zap 177 zap 178 zap 179 zap 180 zap 181 zap 182 zap 183 zap 184 zap 185 zap 186 zap 187 zap 188 zap 189 zap 190 zap 191 switch zap 192 zap 193 zap 194 zap 195 zap 196 zap 197 zap 198 zap 199 zap 200 zap 201 zap 202 zap 203 zap 204 zap 205 zap 206 zap 207 zap 208 zap 209 zap 210 zap 211 zap 212 zap 213 zap 214 zap 215 zap 216 zap 217 zap 218 zap 219 done...
And, with one more radiation treatment on Monday I truly will be DONE with treatment - hopefully forever! But life after treatment won't be quite normal for a while. I will still get to keep my port for a few extra months. My doctor wants me to keep it in for at least a year after I end treatment. So I guess all I want for xmas this year is to be cancer free, and all I'll want next year is to get the port out.... I am looking forward to that day already.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
public "out"-ing of myself...
I still think back to the day that my friends came over and helped me clipper off my hair. It was liberating, invigorating, and one of the best nights I've ever had. What may not have been so obvious was that even though I faced losing hair with defiance, a smile, and a willingness to show cancer "who's boss" I ended up feeling a bit like a split personality. Maybe if you consider that bald Michelle is the crazy action hero then the normal Michelle disguised herself amongst the general population by wearing wigs. In some ways looking "normal" was also a way to show that I was taking this all in stride. I wasn't looking for sympathy or for someone to give me a break. I was just as committed and dedicated and hard working as ever before and didn't want to give anyone a chance to see me as weak. But alas I grew tired of wigs. They are hot, itchy, tight, and generally uncomfortable. For those who have worn pantyhose I would say it's the same experience - it kind of makes you look good for a while, but then you want to claw them off and shred them. So I switched to scarves. I remember the first time I went to the office with a scarf and wondered if I would get odd looks and if people would ask or say something. Then I would have to go through the whole story convincing them (and myself) that this is all just a piece of cake - hmmmmm cake - everybody loves cake!
So, in a nutshell, loosing hair is one of the most obvious (and for most women very difficult) parts of going through cancer treatment. Throughout most of my chemo I had my eyebrows and lashes. But around the time of my last treatment even those started to dwindle. About five weeks ago I had one long eyelash on my left eye and three on my right. I felt pangs of loss about a month ago when I looked in the mirror and those long lashes had fallen out. It's not like they were luxurious and model-worthy but I was left with tiny little stubble. They weren't even a millimeter long! I researched online (using Bing AND Google) shopping for answers and hoping to find a website that would tell me they would grow back instantaneously. At this point my hair was still falling out in tiny little wispy tufts, but I was determined to stop shaving it and see what it did. The last time I shaved my head was Sunday August 1st. The day before my last chemo treatment.
So, in a nutshell, loosing hair is one of the most obvious (and for most women very difficult) parts of going through cancer treatment. Throughout most of my chemo I had my eyebrows and lashes. But around the time of my last treatment even those started to dwindle. About five weeks ago I had one long eyelash on my left eye and three on my right. I felt pangs of loss about a month ago when I looked in the mirror and those long lashes had fallen out. It's not like they were luxurious and model-worthy but I was left with tiny little stubble. They weren't even a millimeter long! I researched online (using Bing AND Google) shopping for answers and hoping to find a website that would tell me they would grow back instantaneously. At this point my hair was still falling out in tiny little wispy tufts, but I was determined to stop shaving it and see what it did. The last time I shaved my head was Sunday August 1st. The day before my last chemo treatment.
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| June 26th, 2010 - towards the end of chemo |
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| September 28, 2010 - 2 months hair growth |
Finally about a week ago my eyelashes started to grow longer and my hair stopped falling out. So this past Friday was a big office-wide meeting. I went au-natural. No scarf, no wig, no false eyelashes. I felt very self conscious most of the time. I think it went well since I got lots of compliments - of course what else do you say to the woman who has cancer other than she looks great? It's not like someone could say: "Wow, you better get a refund on that haircut!" or "Did you do that at home with the lawnmower?" I don't really know the psychology of why I wanted to do it. But it felt liberating and like I was finally being much more honest with my co-workers and maybe even with myself. Now if I wear a scarf it's because I want to either to keep my head warm or because it's just the perfect color to go with an outfit. It's truly a fashion statement rather than an attempt to prevent other people from being uncomfortable. Just so people have a little comparison of what this fantastic new hair style looks like I have posted some pictures. The picture with Anna was taken towards the end of June. She was thrilled to swipe my scarf from my head. The other picture (of me in the green shirt) was taken tonight. Today is exactly 8 weeks after my last chemo treatment!
Even though I have 4 more radiation treatments the public signs of battling cancer are soon going to fade into a distant memory....
Monday, September 27, 2010
5/25 left - but then what?
It seems like the end is in sight. I started writing this post when I had about 9 treatments left and just kept having too much other stuff get in the way of finishing the update. Today however marks a nice milestone. Barring unforeseen circumstances I will be done in exactly one week. My last day is scheduled for October 4th. Originally it was estimated that I would have 25-28 treatments. Last Monday I met with my radiation oncologist and he confirmed that I will only be going through 25 total treatments. That's because the fancy machine they're using on me can vary the extent of radiation to give the more intense dose exactly where they want it. Had my insurance not covered the cost of the fancy machine they would need to radiate the whole area 28 times to get the maximum effect for certain high-risk parts of my body. Isn't it nice that this is all so clinical? Fortunately he even let it slip that I was "going to be just fine". Not that you want to read too much into it, but it's nice to hear that the doctor is confident that the treatment will work. But statistics suck. Because even if you try to focus on the positive there is always the other sliver. You know, the ones who don't make it. The ones we are all pretending won't be me. I guess ever since I found out that my cancer was classified as Stage IV it's been hard to just ignore that possibility. Sometime shortly after I was diagnosed I allowed myself to go through a mini phase of the fear, anger, grief, and mourning. But then I firmly planted my feet into the denial bucket. It was going to take a lot to move me out of that realm. I just stuffed all the emotions deep inside (just like Marge told Lisa to do). Somehow in the back of my mind I allowed myself to believe that I didn't want to waste a perfectly good summer (that actually rained more than it's fair share) by being a complete emotional basketcase. So I put on my Pollyanna face and moved forward like there was nothing wrong. And most of the time I feel great.
But here we are, close to the end of my triathlon from hell (surgery, chemo, radiation) and I've spent the past week worrying about things that never crossed my mind before. Silly things like: what if this didn't work? what if it comes back? what kind of treatment can I have if it recurs?
So for all my supporters who think that I'm kicking this thing's butt and making it look easy I guess there's the ugly truth - MOST of it's easy, but every once in a while you get a little head-trip that spins you for a loop and makes you look things up on the internet you wished you hadn't researched. Things like the fact that I really didn't want to know survival statistics if this thing comes back. And that I now can't expunge the knowledge that treatment options are VERY limited the second time around. So, don't go look it up, it was silly of me to do so, and you don't need that kind of stress. ;)
But here we are, close to the end of my triathlon from hell (surgery, chemo, radiation) and I've spent the past week worrying about things that never crossed my mind before. Silly things like: what if this didn't work? what if it comes back? what kind of treatment can I have if it recurs?
So for all my supporters who think that I'm kicking this thing's butt and making it look easy I guess there's the ugly truth - MOST of it's easy, but every once in a while you get a little head-trip that spins you for a loop and makes you look things up on the internet you wished you hadn't researched. Things like the fact that I really didn't want to know survival statistics if this thing comes back. And that I now can't expunge the knowledge that treatment options are VERY limited the second time around. So, don't go look it up, it was silly of me to do so, and you don't need that kind of stress. ;)
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