Physical Strength & Mental/Emotional Strength.

As many of you may have noticed, I have not been updating my blog nearly as often as I previously did.  This is due in part to not feeling well and the fact that I simply have not been mentally strong.  Rather than blog for the sake of blogging, I've waited until I felt I had a topic worthy of discussion.

The past month (or more) has been very difficult.  I can honestly say I have sank into a very deep, dark place that I struggle to pull myself out of.  I battle every day to remain positive and have faith in God; but my mind takes over, and before I know it, I'm right back in that dark, sad place.  I find myself crying on a daily basis.  Sometimes, it's because of something that has happened that brought about the tears; but other times a wave of sadness will overcome me to the point I cannot think or function.  While home alone a few days ago, I walked through my bedroom into my vanity room where I keep my wigs.  My wigs have been sitting there in plain sight since October when I first got them, so seeing them there certainly was nothing new to me.  Yet, as I walked into my vanity room and saw those wigs on the stands, it was as if it hit me for the first time all over again "you have cancer, you're bald, and your life is nothing like it used to be".  The grief and sadness that hit me like a wave was more than I could bear.  I dropped to my knees while sobbing loudly.  I assumed a praying position without meaning to; but it was the exact position I needed to be in.

While crying loudly, I began asking God for strength, help, and healing.  I asked, I begged, I pleaded.  Then I asked for healing within my mind as well.  Yes, I need healing within my body right now, but my mind is where the biggest battle is occurring at this time.  I recently told a friend I feel like I died in September yet I came back to life as someone entirely different.  I don't recognize the person I see in the mirror anymore.  I can't do all the things I did in my former life, and I am grieving for the person I once was.  I continued to cry out to God loudly crying uncontrollably for at least ten minutes.  Slowly, my tears slowed down and I began to feel a sense of calm.  It was as if a dam had burst, and after the mad rush of waters, it was beginning to recede.  After wiping my face, I sat there for a moment reflecting on the breakdown I had just had.  But then again, was it really a breakdown?  Or was it a moment of healing?

While messaging a friend last night and during another of my low moments, I was pouring my heart out about feeling so very alone and lost through all of this.  I mentioned how hard I strive to remain positive, be strong, and fight like everyone keeps telling me I need to do.  I also mentioned how I am repeatedly told not to cry, it's pointless, and I'm only being weak when I cry.  Often, when I began crying, I can see frustration set in, and rather than receive comfort, I'm simply left alone to deal with my feelings.  This leaves me feeling as if I cannot share my deepest fears, sadness, or look for comfort when I need it.  Therefore, I have began trying to hold it inside myself.  I am an emotional person.  I always have been.  My heart leads me, and it has led to me getting hurt the majority of my life because I wear my heart on my sleeve.  Asking an emotional person to hold back part of who they are is like asking the wind not to blow.  It simply isn't possible.  The result of my holding back my emotions was the breakdown I mentioned above.  One way or another, it's going to come out.  My friend made a statement that truly got me thinking, and I realized how very true it is.  There are two types of strength--physical strength and mental/emotional strength.

I've tried to touch on this subject before; but I didn't fully have an understanding of this concept, so I'm touching on it again--with a new perspective.  Every time I am told to fight, be strong, be tough when I'm sad or upset, it frustrates me.  I feel like I am being told that because I'm crying or sad I'm not fighting, I'm being weak, and I'm not tough.  When my friend made that statement to me, I finally realized why I always feel this way.  Because I AM fighting, being strong and being tough.  I have not missed a single chemo appointment.  I have been determined since day one to stay on schedule and not get behind.  My goal was to power through each and every treatment no matter how difficult it was.  I have endured 15 treatments of chemotherapy being pumped into my body.  My body has ached relentlessly, I've felt sick and thrown up for days, I've lost my hair, and my life as I knew it before cancer isn't event remotely the same as it previously was.  Yet, I have continued to work as much as possible, I still spend as much time as possible with my children, and I went to as many of my daughter's basketball games as I have in previous years. THAT is fighting, being tough, and staying strong.  That's physical strength.

Mental/Emotional Strength is not something I can just turn on and off.  Moments of sadness and despair are part of the treatment process for a cancer patient.  Being mentally and emotionally strong is the ability to pick yourself up from those moments of sadness and regain your strength emotionally.  Crying and being afraid doesn't make you mentally or emotionally weak.  It makes you human.  After being told for months I am weak because I cry, I should take some medication for depression, or other suggestions that made no sense to me, I have come to the realization that the weakness does not lie within me.  I do not need medication to stop me from having moments of sadness.  In fact, as I mentioned above, my moment of complete and utter sadness led me to a feeling of peace and crying out to God, which is exactly what I needed to do.  The weakness lies in those who refuse to selflessly give of themselves when someone is hurting to emotionally hold them up when they are too weak to do it for themselves.  So many love songs talk about "I'll be strong when you're weak" or "I will hold you up when you cannot stand".  While these are beautiful lyrics and the vision we all have for how things will be when we are faced with something like cancer, I have learned some people simply aren't capable of actually following through on these promises.  Why?  Because one would need to truly be able to hurt when the other hurts to understand their pain.  Blocking this hurt with anger and frustration prevents this from happening.  It's a matter of deflection for the person unwilling to deal with the emotional turmoil the person in front of them is experiencing.  Anger is easier to deal with than hurt.  Simply saying "don't cry--you're being weak" is easier than feeling the other person's pain.  A simple statement has opened my eyes that I am not weak because I cry.  In fact, I am stronger because I allow myself to feel the pain and cry.  Having weak moments mentally and emotionally is part of the healing process.  I can let it out any time I need to, or the dam will eventually burst, and it will come out on its own.

While reflecting today, I realized how valuable the conversation I had last night was.  I haven't spoke to this friend in quite some time, and we aren't able to keep in touch regularly.  The message I received was somewhat random, or so it seemed.  I truly believe God had his hand on that conversation and there was nothing random about it.  There were things I needed to hear, and this individual simply followed God's lead.  This epiphany doesn't mean I won't have hard days anymore.  But for today, it means I have been reminded that God is watching over me even when I feel alone.

If I have any followers out there who are in the support role of someone with cancer, I beg of you to refrain from using the advice "be strong, fight, etc.".  Allow the person you are supporting to cry and be afraid.  Cry with them, and tell them it's okay.  Then, after a good cry, you can move forward to happier thoughts and keep up the fight.  I promise, both of you will feel better if you simply allow them to do what they need to do.

Much love to all my faithful readers.

Teresa

Chemo--AC Round 3 of 4

On February 21, 2014, I had my third round of AC.  I only have one more round of AC, and I will be done with chemo!  I'm excited to be done with chemo as it's been a long road!

My friend, Missy Frechette, took me to treatment this week. I am so thankful for such good friends and family to ensure I make it to my treatments.  I'm reluctant to take and post photos from the last two treatments as I feel I look "sick" and it's getting harder and harder to look good or like myself.  But, I committed to taking these photos for every treatment from the start, so I'm sticking it through.

I went to treatment dreading it although I wanted it to be over with.  I dread AC because I feel very tired when treatment begins, and it leaves me feeling sick and somewhat drunk.  I definitely could not drive myself home from an AC treatment.

My blood counts were fantastic thanks to the Neulasta shot I take the Saturday after treatment.  I was afraid my counts wouldn't be able to withstand the AC; but other than the one time when I ended up in the hospital, I have maintained pretty well.

My treatments are on Fridays.  They give me a bag of Ammend via IV to help control nausea and sickness; and this does help.  I normally go home and sleep all evening on Friday after Chemo.  But on Saturday, I feel somewhat normal.  I actually had some energy this week, and I managed to take my dog for a walk.  That's one of my favorite things to do, so that was a big step for me.  However, Sunday dawned along with the sick feeling I like to compare to the worst hangover you've ever had.  Monday was worse than Sunday as it typically is the dreaded day 3 we all hear about it.  I wasn't able to take my anti nausea meds because I had too much driving to do for my daughter, so that made it even worse.  Finally, I was able to take my meds about 7 p.m.  I put myself to bed hoping for a better day on Tuesday.

I woke today, Tuesday, feeling somewhat nauseas; but not nearly as bad as yesterday.  I took my meds first thing this morning since school was cancelled and I wasn't received to drive; and it made all the difference in the world.  Yes, I still feel somewhat sick; but nothing like it has been.

My final AC treatment is on March 7, 2014.  My friends are trying to plan as many as people to go as possible to make my final treatment a celebration.  For those of you who cannot go, a simple photo showing support is more than enough!

My surgery date has been scheduled for April 10, 2014.  At this stage, my plan is to remove the left breast and insert an expander.  The expander will be in place for about a month.  I will then go in for a second surgery where the expander will be replaced with an implant.  While I had previously asked for a complete mastectomy to include both breasts, my physician is not in favor of this unless my genetics test comes back positive.  I am still waiting on these results and should have then within the next couple weeks.  A party of me is relieved to only remove and do reconstruction on one breast while another part of me is scared to death there may be something in the right side they are missing.  The WHAT IF weighs heavy on my mind.

Mentally, things are getting very difficult.  My blog has revolved around being positive, and I've tried very hard to maintain that positive attitude; but I also don't want to be fake.  As you may have noticed, I have not been updating my blog nearly as often.  That's because I don't want to post a bunch of negative posits.  I've been struggling with feeling down the past fews weeks.  I feel like my life has taken a turn that I cannot control, and I'm struggling with hurt and pain within myself.  I feel like I've lost who I am, and I am struggling to find myself again.  I cry often.  More than I care to admit.  I'm told to stop crying as their is no point in it; but sometimes I cannot help how I feel.  The tears just overwhelm me, and I need to let it out.  Sometimes I know why I'm crying and sometimes I don't have a clue.  Sometimes it's simply a feeling of being overwhelmed, tired of feeling sick, and everything that goes along with treatment.  I keep telling myself things will get better.  That I will find my place in the world again.  Once I'm past being so sick all the time, I believe going back to work as much as I can will help tremendously.  I often feel sad and depressed because I cannot leave my house.  I sometimes feel like a prisoner in my own home.  A long, cold winter isn't helping matters at all!

On this note, I am trying very hard to give ALL of this up to God and let him handle it.  I always try to take on the world and fix things myself; and this has been a struggle for me to let God handle it.

The Brain vs The Body

Since my diagnosis, I've often been told I'm an inspiration and strong.  At first, I believed this.  I felt strong, and I felt like I was making a difference with my blog and helping others out there who may be going through the same thing.  However, as time has went by, I feel more of a fraud than an inspiration.  Why?  Because my brain and my body don't seem to ever be at the same place anymore.  I feel disconnected from myself--like a train that's rolled off the tracks and no way to get back on.

Since my diagnosis, I wanted to remain strong through my treatments and continue to live my life as normally as possible.  I wanted to keep going to work and still go to all my daughter's basketball games.  I wanted to keep up the busy lifestyle I had previously enjoyed.  Accepting anything less, to me, was an admission of weakness, and that simply wasn't acceptable in my eyes.  Through the majority of my 12 Taxol treatments, I managed to keep up with this goal.  My energy levels remained much higher than most people expected, and I was proud of myself for keeping up with my goal.  I was actually starting to believe this chemo thing wasn't going to be nearly as bad as I expected or had heard.

But, I was quickly learning strength was way more than getting out of bed and keeping up with daily tasks.  I'm referring to mental strength.  Breast cancer has a way at eroding way at your mental strength even when you aren't aware it's doing it.  Over the past few months, I have watched my body weaken, and my mental strength has suffered a blow as well.  I find myself feeling very alone inside myself.  Lost inside this diagnosis of cancer wondering how I will ever find my way out again.  Sometimes, it feels like I've been locked in a dark building, and I'm wandering around trying to find my way out.  Trying to find myself again.  As hard as I've fought to prevent cancer from taking over my life and letting it define me, I feel like it has kicked me a few times while I'm on the ground.  I've been laying on the ground nursing my wounds and feeling sorry for myself; but I see I can either lay there and let cancer keep kicking me, or I can keep fighting back.  Keep fighting to stand back up.  Cancer may land another punch to knock me on my butt; but I have to keep getting back up.  Because as long as I stay down, it wins--mentally.

Having said all this, It's much easier to be positive and talk about fighting back; but it's a lot harder to to actually do it.  Someone told me earlier today I am an inspiration and so strong, and I felt ashamed.  I do not feel I have been much of an inspiration or very strong here lately.  I have a strong desire to begin a God-based support group for women struggling with cancer in our area.  Yes, I would like it to focus around support and understanding one another, but I feel it needs to include God too.  I grew up going to church three times a week, and my mother made sure I knew how to turn to God when times were tough, how to show thanks, and how to help others during a time of need.  I didn't appreciate it at the time, but I am so thankful my mom taught me to pray and how to turn to God when in need.  Prior to my diagnosis, I was living my life in my own way and making my own path.  Unfortunately, this path was not God's path for me.  I expected God to follow me rather than me to follow God.  My diagnosis took me back to my roots of what matters.  I began attending The Soul Harvest Church in Mason, WV, and the lessons I take from each service fill my soul and remind me of why my mom was so insistent on teaching her children to pray.  I turned back to God during this difficult time in my life, and it is God who has provided me with the peace of mind that has fed my soul.  I can be having a hard day (mentally), and when I listen to a service, I feel at peace again.  God has shown me so many signs that while this path I am on is not an easy one, it's HIS plan, and I need to trust him.  I truly believe the key to me beating this is within my own abilities to trust in God and show him I have faith in him.  Having said all this, this is why I would like the support group to provide not only support woman-to-woman; but also spiritual support.  I have learned this is so very important and necessary.

God did not make me into some super inspirational person who is strong.  I falter and cry daily.  I humbly state I don't have anymore answers than the next person.  What God has done is use my writing skills and my outgoing nature to reach out to those who need support.  I've often wondered what my purpose was in this life.  Obviously, my children are my reason for living, breathing, and existing, but I felt there had to be more of a purpose for ME.  I truly believe I have found it.

I downloaded a new CD on my phone earlier, and it has a song that truly spoke to me.  I believe so many others can also benefit from hearing this.  This song talks about how we all carry pain inside of us, and often, if we just take a moment to really look at someone when we see them, we may see it.  That a simple smile or act of kindness you may do without thinking may be the one act that renews someone's soul after a hard day.  Please take a listen.

Chemo (AC) 2 of 4

It seems I'm slacking a bit when it comes to updating my blog.  I can only blame fatigue as getting the best of me.  Every time I sit down with the intent to update my blog, I'm asleep before I know it.  So please bear with me as I'm doing my best to keep up!

On Friday, February 7, 2013, I had my second round of AC.  I woke up feeling good that day, and I figured I, naturally, would feel almost human the day I'm headed to get more poison pumped into my veins.  My gracious escort to treatment was Amber Herald this week.  I'm very appreciative of her efforts to take me to treatment as she has her own health issues to be concerned about.

After my first experience with AC, I was very leery to get this treatment.  The last thing I wanted was to be throwing up and miserable like I was after the previous treatment.  My doctors wanted me to switch to the steroid injections along with my treatment, but I'm stubborn, and I REALLY don't want the steroid injections.  I truly hate how they make me feel.  Plus the idea of packing on weight in addition to everything else I'm facing doesn't sit well with me.  The last thing I need is for my but to expand five sizes.  At any rate, I asked them to give me one more treatment without steroids to see how I responded.  If I got that sick again, I would give in and use the steroid injections for the final two treatments.

In addition to this treatment, they added an IV bag injection of something (I can't remember the name) that prevents nausea and vomiting within the first two to three days.  I must say I feel this did help as I didn't feel nearly as loopy or "drunk" when I left the treatment center.  I'm not sure why that isn't given as a standard injection with this treatment.  While receiving treatment, Amber went to the cafe on the first floor and ordered us both some sandwiches.  During my first treatment, I help off eating until after treatment was complete, and I also believe that contributed to how I felt--I simply had gone too long without eating.  I stuffed my face with a BLT while receiving AC treatments, and I definitely felt better just because I ate!

My veins are definitely seeing some wear from all these infusions.  While getting my IV this week, my veins were tender to the touch when the nurse was looking for a vein to pick on.  Thank goodness I only have two more treatments left as I'm not certain my veins could withstand anymore.  I can definitely tell AC is much harder on them than Taxol as well.  My arm is always a bit sore for days after my treatment.  I still stand behind my decision to not get a port.  My nurses told me a mont or so after chemo is done, and my veins will be back to their normal self and healed up.

When we were finally set free from treatment (and we were literally there all day long), we stopped by the gift shop in the lobby and purchased these bracelets to each ear.  Amber is a survivor of Cervical Cancer, so we are each wearing bracelets for one another.

I am so grateful to everyone who has taken the time out of their day to make sure I get to treatments safely.  It's a long, tiring day; and many people have sacrificed their time to ensure I get to treatment and home safely.

Since my treatment, I've felt very tired this week.  I've had several days where the acid reflux (common with AC) is almost unbearable; but the Nexium I'm not on helps a lot. Ask about this before you begin AC treatments.  This week, I made sure my bowels were moving loosely before and on the day of treatment.  I did NOT want a repeat of the constipation I had with my previous treatment.  For those wondering how to manage this, I took 2 Senekot every night the week prior to treatment so by the time Friday arrived, constipation definitely was not an issue.  I've continued taking this dosage  after treatment, and I must say things have been much better in that particular area.

I've battled some nausea and upset stomach, but I have not thrown up.  The worst was on a day in which I had to take my daughter to an appointment, so I couldn't take any of the anti nausea meds.  As long as I'm able to take them, it's bearable.

For anyone going through this treatment, hang in there.  It truly does SUCK.

God Bless!

My Hospital Stay & Preparing For AC

It's been a week and three days since my last AC treatment.  I have my second of four treatments this coming Friday; and I am not looking forward to it at all with the exception of having yet another behind me and getting closer to being done!  AC has not been kind to me so far, and I only have one under my belt.  Since my last treatment, I've had some vicious nausea, vomiting, constipation and alternating diarrhea.  After finally recovering from that, all I could do was sleep and feel awful in general.  Finally, the heartburn that accompanies AC treatments is the worst imaginable heartburn.  It's unlike any heartburn I've ever had before.  It's in my throat, chest, back, and even lower back/abdomen.  And the pain is very painful.  I take Pepcid to try to keep it under control, but even that doesn't always work. So, I've said all this to make it very clear why I'm absolutely dreading my treatment this coming Friday. Because I get to start all of that all over again.  Isn't that a party?!

On Friday, January 31, 2013, I awoke at 6 a.m. excited.  I actually had plans that didn't revolve around breast cancer or treatments.  I had slept rough the night before, and I was awake with severe pains in my chest and back all night; but I was determined to keep moving and ignore it. I had promised my coworkers I would make homemade noodles and bring them to the office for everyone to enjoy for lunch.  I missed both the Thanksgiving and Christmas parties at the office this year thanks to doctor appointments, so everyone was excited to eat my noodles.  I was excited to make them for everyone.  I began beating eggs and flour in a bowl at 6 a.m. and sipping water trying to get the heartburn that never seemed to leave under control.  I rolled out the dough and patiently cut the noodles.  Without meaning to, I had got the dough the perfect combination of eggs and flour.  Not too sticky and not too tough.  These going to be one of my best batches of noodles in a long time!  The chicken broth, water, and cream of chicken soup was slowly bubbling in the large cooker behind me ready for the noodles.  I slowly added the noodles feeling like Martha Stewart for creating a perfect batch for such a great group of people who were looking forward to them.  I stirred them one last time, turned the heat down to let them cook slowly, and headed to the couch with my water.

The heartburn or whatever this was had become pretty painful.  And I kept feeling dizzy and lightheaded.  Something didn't feel right.  But I was determined not to let anything stop me from visiting my coworkers and feeding them today.  I had promised.  It was time to head upstairs to shower and get myself ready.  As I headed up the stairs, a wave of pain hit me so hard I stopped in my tracks and sat on the step.  I was home alone.  My son had drove my daughter to school for me so I could work on the noodles.  He would be home any minute.  I decided to check the noodles then stay on the couch until he got home so as not to pass out while home alone.  While laying on the couch, the pain was getting increasingly worse, and I was beginning to have trouble breathing.  I kept seeing bright spots in front of my eyes, and the urge to fall asleep was becoming impossible to fight.  What was wrong with me?  I decided to call my doctor and explain my symptoms to see what she would like me to do.  After explaining my symptoms, I was instructed to go to my local ER immediately.  Thankfully, my son had come back home while I was on the phone.  I told him we needed to head to the ER, and he grabbed my keys and headed back outside to start my car.  After unplugging the noodles, I threw on the first pair of yoga pants I grabbed, a tshirt, and tied a bandanna on my head.  I didn't have a stitch of makeup on, and I didn't care.  I threw all my medication in a bag along with my deodorant and my cell phone charger.  Necessitates in case I was there a while.

As we were leaving the driveway, I noticed my radio wasn't coming on or lit up.  My radio is a radio and built in navigation system, and the "theft" light was blinking.  Seriously?  As if I didn't have enough to deal with.  I called Honda while my son drove, and was informed my battery charge must have dropped so low that my car was unable to keep the radio powered, and it switched it to anti-theft mode.  It now wanted a code to unlock it.  They informed me this code was stuck inside my glove box. Nope, not in my glove box.  I bought my car new three years ago, and I went through everything they had given me to put in my glove box, and there was not a radio code.  I was informed if I couldn't find the code, I would have to take it to a dealership to get it unlocked.  Plus, I clearly needed a new battery.  Great!  Just what I wanted to hear.  At least I knew what was going on with my radio for now though.  At this point, I was in so much pain, I didn't care.  And the dizziness was about to take over.

As we checked into the hospital, I felt silly for being at the ER.  I've never been one to visit the ER.  I figured whatever I was feeling had a simple explanation.  It was now 8:30 a.m.  And the ER was quite busy.  Of course it was.  I was in a bed in the ER before I knew it.  I explained all the things I was feeling, and they quickly decided to run a CT scan to look for blood clots.  Additionally, an EKG was done as well as labs.  For my son, time was likely creeping by.  He hadn't slept all night, and now he was sitting in a very uncomfortable chair in the ER.  For me, time is a blur.  I all the various tests, and I remember a lot of pain.  I remember the doctor asking me if I wanted something for the pain, and I told him no.  I stubbornly said I had given birth to three children with no drugs, and I didn't come there for pain killers.  He assured me I could change my mind if needed.  About an hour later, I asked for something for the pain.  I was given a shot of dilaudid.  Within seconds, the pain was gone.  Oh, holy relief.  I could take a breath without pain in my chest and back.  I also fell asleep within moments of the shot.  I had battled the pain all night long so I hadn't slept well all night, plus the shot knocked me on my butt.  I awoke some time later to new pains shooting through my back.  It was back.  My son was laying on the cold hospital floor asleep.  I needed to pee, and I needed a drink.  I glanced at the clock.  It was noon.  I had been here four hours already?

I unhooked myself from the monitors and went to the bathroom.  Without any other option, I awoke my son and asked him to go get me something to drink.  I felt like I hadn't drank anything in months.  He went without complaint.  I called my nurse.  Were any of my test results back?  The nurse informed me they were back, but the doctor had to review them.  By this time, I was in quite a bit of pain again.  But I wasn't taking more medication.  I could handle it.  An hour later, I was in tears hitting my call light.  the nurse came back, took one look at me and knew why I had called her.  I was given a second shot of dilaudid for pain.  Like before, I instantly felt relief.  But this time wouldn't be like last time.  Yes, I fell asleep for a little while.  But when I awoke, I didn't awake because I was in pain again.  I awoke because I felt sick.  I asked my son to grab a puke bowl before I puked all over the floor.  He handed it too me just in time for me to fill it up with everything I had drank earlier.  My son went to get the nurse.  Now, on top of pain, dizziness, and being light headed, I was throwing up.  And we still didn't have a diagnosis.  Finally, the doctor came in.  They couldn't find a reason for my being sick.  That was their answer.  He asked if I wanted to go home or stay the night for observation.  I, of course, chose to go home.  He headed out the door to start discharge papers.

Within an hour, I was throwing up again.  I called the nurse into my room and told her I didn't think it was a good idea to go home without a reason for how I felt and throwing up like I was.  Perhaps I should stay the night?  She said she would talk to the doctor.  They agreed to admit me since I had thrown up again.  20 minutes later, they changed their mind and said they were sending me home with Zofran.  What the heck was wrong with these people?  I was instructed to get dressed as I would be out the door in moments.  Right after getting dressed, I promptly threw up again--everywhere.  I practically crawled back to my ER bed.  After what seemed like forever, a new ER nurse came in my room.  She was now my doctor.  She asked tons of questions and informed me that my White Blood Count was very low, and I would need to spend the night in the hospital so they could give me a shot to boost my WBC, give me antibiotics and help me feel better.  Okay, so now we're back to staying?!  I didn't even care anymore!

My sister and her husband had come at this point.  I told them to take my son home as he hadn't slept since the night before, and there was no point in anyone staying with me.  I would likely be sleeping most of the night anyway.  My sister insisted she was staying with me, but she had just got off work and had to work again the following morning.  There was no way I was allowing her to stay there with me.  Once I was settled in my room, I sent them all home.  No point in everyone suffering because I was sick!  I was given a shot of Heprin in my stomach to prevent blood clots, and I was given a shot in the back of my arm to boost my WBC.  I can't remember the name of it, but it wasn't Neulasta.  I know what that is as I give myself a shot of that at home on the Saturday after my treatments.  My WBC was 1.1, so they were hoping this would boost it to 2.  I just wanted sleep.

At 4:30 a.m, someone came in to draw blood for lab work.  That was a frustrating time to be stuck for blood.  Once he was done, I was wide awake.  I began attempting to watch TV.  I realized how hungry I was.  Since I had spent 13 hours in the ER the day before, I hadn't ate anything all day on Friday.  The last time I had ate was Thursday night at 7 p.m.  And it was Saturday morning.  When I finally heard the breakfast trays in the hall, I was pretty excited.  My excitement went out the window when I saw what was on my tray.  Chicken broth and water.  I almost cried.  I was on a clear liquid diet.  I drank the broth, and pouting, tried to go back to sleep.  I was still hungry so that wasn't easy to do.  As the day wore on, I was brought lunch.  It consisted of yet another bowl of chicken broth and a bottle of water.  I was just getting very grumpy at this point.  Thankfully, my friend Tracy Brinegar smuggled me a cheeseburger in her purse when she came to visit.  I ate it in under a minute.

By dinner, I was certain I would be brought real food so they could ensure I was holding solids down.   After all, they didn't know I had ate that cheeseburger.  But, must to my dismay, my dinner tray was yet another bowl of chicken broth and a bottle of water.  It took everything I had not to throw the tray across my room.  I very nicely told the poor nurse I hadn't ate since Thursday, and I HAD to have some real food.  She said she would check and let me know.  Before I knew it, my tray was being switched for a tray with chicken noodles, green beans, carrots, apple pie, and juice.  I was in heaven!  I then asked my nurses if I would be going home that night and what my labs had shown.  It was clear to me no one had bothered checking.  She came back a few minutes later saying my WBC was now 4.1 and I couldn't likely go home.  I wonder if I hadn't said anything if I would have just spent another night in the hospital eating only broth simply because no one had bothered to follow up on labs.

I was eventually released about 7:15 p.m.  Upon arriving home, I was thankful to be in my own house again.   My daughters brought me home and helped me get settled, and I went straight to bed.  My own bed felt so amazing!  In short, we never really determined for sure the cause of all the pain, but I have my own theroy.  The pain went away as I was starved and given broth only.  When I finally did eat, I felt it inching back.  Because I limited how much I ate and stopped at only eating once, it didn't get out of control.  I had no idea heartburn could hurt like that.  When I think of heartburn, I think of a feeling of fire in the pit of my stomach and throat.  What I felt was pain in my abdomen, chest, upper back, and lower back.  It was enough pain to make me want pain medication, which means it was a lot.  Since returning home, I've learned to be very careful what I eat and not to eat very much.  Otherwise, it gets out of control again.  Funny how us cancer patients are told the importance of eating and maintaining our weight; but we can't eat too much without being in pain because our treatments cause the worse heartburn out there!

I sit here on a Monday night feeling "okay".  My body aches, but I can survive it.  I wonder what my WBC would have been this coming Friday before my next treatment had I not went to the ER on Friday.  Would they have even treated me?  I'm thinking not!  So, I am glad I went to the ER because I don't want to get behind on my treatment--even though I'm dreading it.

To anyone about to start AC--It sucks.  I'm not going to lie.  But it is manageable.  At this stage, I have a couple things to suggest (I'm by far no pro; but this is what I've learned so far).

1.  Make sure your bowels are moving before your treatment.  I recommend taking 2 Senokot nightly at least three days prior to treatment.  AC causes severe constipation, so having soft stools when you get it can help prevent it from being so bad.

2.  Keep several bottles of the Saline Laxative Solution on hand.  If you feel you're constipated, don't wait.  Drink it.  If you wait, you'll start throwing up.  I plan to drink a bottle of this the day after my treatment to stay ahead of the constipation before it happens this week.

3.  I was prescribed medication to prevent nausea last week.  Both of them MADE me sick rather than prevent me from feeling sick.  I didn't figure that out right away, so I will not be taking them at all.  Perhaps we can try something else, but I will not be taking the Zyprexa.  It was the major culprit of my vomiting last week.

4.  I felt drunk after my treatment last week.  That was a new experience after all my Taxol treatments where I felt perfectly normal after my treatments.  I know what to expect this time, so I figure I will be sleeping most of the day on my day of treatments now.  And even the day after.

5.  Everyone told me to "stay ahead of the nausea".  I think I will wait until I begin feeling a little sick to take someone.  Trying to stay ahead of it seemed to make me sick last week.

So, far, that's all I know!  I ask everyone to keep me in their prayers this week as Friday approaches.  I'm dreading it, but want it to get here to get it over with.

God Bless, and tell those you love what they mean to you.  Say it because you feel it and want them to know.  Not because a holiday tells you to.  =)