Chemo Round 3

Tomorrow morning I start round 3. Hopefully this will mark the halfway point but we won't really know until I have another scan in the next few weeks...or so was the original plan. Since I haven't seen any of my usual people through this whole process I'm kind of at a loss.

I'm not going to lie, it is really frustrating. My wonderful superhuman NP is still on maternity leave (yay for her and her babe!!!). My gyn-oncologist doesn't work on Tuesdays. I don't see my radiation oncologist right now since I'm not in remission or getting radiation. That also means I don't see the radiation oncology PA. Essentially, I try to see the gyn-oncology PA because she has met me a couple times now, but it's not uncommon to be told the wait is too long for her and to end up with someone new. I have no control over it and it leaves me feeling like I have no one to ask questions of or to help me manage my care in this battle to live.

I've been asked endlessly over the last week and half when I have chemo again and how it works, so here goes. I'll have chemo tomorrow, Wednesday and Thursday, then I will have 7 nights of Neupogen injections, and in about 10 days I'll have labs drawn. Assuming all is well, I'll start it all over again in 3 weeks from tomorrow.

Chemo Tuesdays start early. Usually my mom helps us out since Tuesdays both kids are home with me, but this week she has a funeral to attend so I switched our usual Friday at daycare for tomorrow. I think my labs are scheduled for 7 or 7:30 so all of us will get up and get going, then Geoff will drop me off at UW. Next I will head off to lab while he takes the kiddos to daycare and drops them off. He will then head back to UW and meet up with me with during my pre-chemo oncology appointment or in the chemo waiting room. Usually with waiting times for everything, chemo doesn't actually get started until 10ish. Then I have to get "pre-fluids" which is essentially a whole liter of IV fluids over an hour. Then another half hour of an IV anti-nausea med. When I start my fluids I get a mess of pills including more anti-nausea meds, dexamethasone (a steroid), and Benadryl. I'm a lightweight and usually sound asleep about the time the pre-fluids are done. I wake up for bag changes , bad IVs, and bathroom trips and that's bout it.

Finally I start my first chemo med. That is another liter of IV fluids over an hour. Then the second med, a much smaller bag, and usually that is it. Then it's me dragging my half asleep self out to wait for car and back to daycare to pick up the kids (just in case it's not clear Geoff is doing all the driving, etc.). Sometime, ok often, we stop for bagel or something, but it's a catch 22 because I always run that risk of getting sick and no longer liking whatever we picked up. Anyway, once we have the kiddos it's home to bed/soak in a hot tub.

I generally remain non-functional for the rest of chemo Tuesdays and Geoff is stuck doing it all on his own. Wednesdays and Thursdays are only the anti nausea IV med and the second drug so they are much faster. This is good because I need to be to work to proctor a test at 1 on Wednesday and I'm on my own with the kids Wednesday night as usual. There is a good chance that it will be a "Toy Story" or whatever I can find night. I guess we'll have to see.

I was describing most of this regimen to one of my neighbors tonight and he was appropriately appalled. I assured him it wasn't all bad, and I feel fortunate enough that I qualify for chemo and I'm still getting a chance to fight and win. As we get closer and closer to that next big scan I'm more and more terrified of having the rug pulled out from under me again. I have so much to live for and so much to do...

Sometimes all of it is too weird to me. In many ways life has managed to go on and be relatively normal despite all of this, but it is odd that every three weeks I have to drop everything and half live at UW. A week ago I was in Kentucky. We had just finished our celebration dinner that we have at the end of our "Clinical Bound" week and a blessing-way ceremony (blessing-way ceremonies are tradition for the midwife students at my school as they transition to a new role in their life). In another week, I will probably be in clinical and who knows, maybe even attending my first birth as the "baby catcher" (or whatever you choose to call it). A week after that and I should be at my first big midwife conference for the American College of Nurse-Midwives in Nashville. The hardest part of all this is you might have noticed I no longer say things like "I will be" it's now "I should be" or "I will probably be" because I'm hyper aware of how little control I have over any of these things.

For me to go to Kentucky there was a lot discussions and uncertainty. I didn't get plane tickets until the last minute and even until the day before when I had my labs rechecked nothing seemed certain. The most frustrating part was I scheduled everything so I would fly in at 7:30 am last Wednesday so I could do a Wed, Thurs, Fri chemo schedule as discussed in one of my chemo oncology appointments.  In the end I was notified that was not possible and my chemo had to be moved back a week instead. I'm not sure the person I dealt with had any concept of how unnerving the idea of waiting an extra week for chemo is to someone dependent on chemo to live. There was no reassurance, just a firm "we don't do that."

There are so many times through all of this that I'm reminded nothing is certain and I have no control. I'm dependent on people that think they know all about being in my position, but many of them have no idea how many times a day I have to try to tell myself to put on my big girl pants or spin the negative into a positive. There are no guarantees in life, we all know that, but I miss not living with cancer constantly hanging over my head. I miss the days when I never knew if the next stranger I meet is going to be the one that looks at me like I'm as good as dead or tells me "I'm sure you're fine" without knowing any circumstances beyond me having a cancer.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not viewing myself as some sort of victim. I've learned a lot from cancer and in many ways it has made me a better person, but I think I'm ready for it to really go into remission. I want to work towards being one of those people who says they are a one year, or five year, or twenty year, or hell, fifty year, survivor. Yes, I'm definitely ready for that.