Today I was given the tentative schedule for my internal radiation treatments. There is nothing I am dreading more than these 5 days. I honestly don't have words to express how much I do not wish to acknowledge these 5 days, yet here they are...
#1/5 Friday September 21, 2012 07:00 am
#2/5 Friday September 28, 2012 11:30pm
#3/5 Tuesday October 2, 2012 07:30am
#4/5 Friday October 5, 2012 07:30am
#5/5 Tuesday October 9, 2012 07:30am
Now I am going to forget about them and not deal with them again for a few weeks (one day at a time with everything right now...). Also, I'm tired but still feeling pretty good. Too good. I am beginning to think they forgot to actually put the Chemo in my chemo this week...We'll see how tomorrow goes, but I am not complaining!
Friday, August 31, 2012
Holiday Weekends
It didn't really hit me until today that this weekend is Labor Day Weekend. I think it's a sad testament to how mentally consuming this process has been. (I won't tell you how I forgot about the mandatory preschool meeting this week or posted an assignment exactly a week late or give you any other clues about how cognitively impaired I currently am).
It wasn't until I realized there are no radiation treatments on Monday that I was able to really take note. Then it sunk in that Geoff doesn't work Monday either. Initially, I was really excited...then I got on Facebook. I realized everyone was going away to their cabins, or camping, or other fun family adventures.
It stung as I realized that we too had put an extensive amount of planning into our weekend, but not for the sake of fun. Our planning was centered around preparing for this week's chemo to hit. We had our house majorly cleaned today (thank you again wonderful aunts!!!). We made sure we are stocked up on all the essentials for everyone. We have a special bag packed for the kids in case we need some diversions/distractions.
It makes me sad to think how much I'd rather be able to take advantage of this opportunity to do something fun with my family and treasure every moment. You know, just in case...Then I tell myself, don't think like that. You will have a great Labor Day Weekend next year or hell, when you're done with treatment. You can make up your own special weekend. We'll get through this. We will find a way to make this weekend fun and special for us. Meanwhile we'll be thinking of you and hoping that you are finding ways to treasure every moment with your families and friends.
It wasn't until I realized there are no radiation treatments on Monday that I was able to really take note. Then it sunk in that Geoff doesn't work Monday either. Initially, I was really excited...then I got on Facebook. I realized everyone was going away to their cabins, or camping, or other fun family adventures.
It stung as I realized that we too had put an extensive amount of planning into our weekend, but not for the sake of fun. Our planning was centered around preparing for this week's chemo to hit. We had our house majorly cleaned today (thank you again wonderful aunts!!!). We made sure we are stocked up on all the essentials for everyone. We have a special bag packed for the kids in case we need some diversions/distractions.
It makes me sad to think how much I'd rather be able to take advantage of this opportunity to do something fun with my family and treasure every moment. You know, just in case...Then I tell myself, don't think like that. You will have a great Labor Day Weekend next year or hell, when you're done with treatment. You can make up your own special weekend. We'll get through this. We will find a way to make this weekend fun and special for us. Meanwhile we'll be thinking of you and hoping that you are finding ways to treasure every moment with your families and friends.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
C is for CSA Coincidence
Today was another good day. It was busy and I won't bore you with all the details, but I'm glad to say that I was able to do everything I needed to. I don't feel like I had chemo yesterday and I am thankful for that.
This evening we went to pick up our CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) share at the farm. E took off towards the goats as usual and was dismayed to discover that they were "in timeout" in the barn for escaping (again). He had a hard time believing the goats could do anything that would require them to not only be in timeout, but more importantly, be deprived of him feeding them. There were tears and a lot of "but why!?!?!?!"
Meanwhile Geoff and I were scoping out our veggies of the week with Ella. A woman I didn't recognize walked by and said something cute to her which then morphed into something about her being a 12 lb baby. Of course at this point, I took note. Then the lady turned to me and asked if I was still breastfeeding her. I was at a complete loss for words. I know my agony showed on my face and since I already gave it away I replied with an honest "no. I had to stop last week when I began chemo treatment."
The lady responded with an equally pained expression. Then she threw her arms around me. She launched into a tirade of "how unfair...you're too young...god bless your heart..." I'm not exactly sure what she said. I know there was a time when I would have backing away, but her reaction was genuine and raw and paralleled my internal feelings.
She was sincerely sweet and didn't interrogate us, but instead the conversation had a natural flow that led to her talking about Gilda's Club, a cancer support club in Madison for the whole family. We've heard about it (from our wonderful NP of course) and have been meaning to check it out because they have activities and groups aimed at little kiddos 4 and younger. She had heard wonderful things about the place too, but hadn't been there herself.
She initially heard about it from a gorgeous hospice home near Geoff's work. Apparently her mother was diagnosed early 2012 with stage 4 pancreatic cancer and died 2 months later. It all happened so fast and according to her, she is still having a hard time dealing with the grief, so it was recommended that she check out some of the support systems available at Gilda's Club.
I'm not sure exactly why I crossed paths with her today or even how the chain of events progressed from admiring and acknowledging my little love to bringing up the one thing that would make me reveal my dirty little secret. Obviously we have talked to her before, (Geoff remembers this, I do not) because she knew about Ella's giant birth status. I will however, remember her now. It's funny how these things work.
It's ironic that on the way to CSA I was telling Geoff that one of the things about cancer was I was able to see for the first time in my life all the different groups and associations that I belong to...my college friends, his college friends, my friends from my hometown, my neighbors, my work friends, my birthing world friends, my midwifery school friends, my parenting friends, my animal friends, and the list goes on and on...Cancer sucks but it makes certain aspects of your life are so transparent. It makes everyone realize that you aren't to be taken for granted and it definitely makes you realize not to take anyone or anything for granted. I will never look at life the same way as I did pre-cancer again. I am forever changed. The new me is more than happy to befriend a stranger with a common love for organic veggies and chubby babies who probably needs hugs just as much as me if not more.
This evening we went to pick up our CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) share at the farm. E took off towards the goats as usual and was dismayed to discover that they were "in timeout" in the barn for escaping (again). He had a hard time believing the goats could do anything that would require them to not only be in timeout, but more importantly, be deprived of him feeding them. There were tears and a lot of "but why!?!?!?!"
Meanwhile Geoff and I were scoping out our veggies of the week with Ella. A woman I didn't recognize walked by and said something cute to her which then morphed into something about her being a 12 lb baby. Of course at this point, I took note. Then the lady turned to me and asked if I was still breastfeeding her. I was at a complete loss for words. I know my agony showed on my face and since I already gave it away I replied with an honest "no. I had to stop last week when I began chemo treatment."
The lady responded with an equally pained expression. Then she threw her arms around me. She launched into a tirade of "how unfair...you're too young...god bless your heart..." I'm not exactly sure what she said. I know there was a time when I would have backing away, but her reaction was genuine and raw and paralleled my internal feelings.
She was sincerely sweet and didn't interrogate us, but instead the conversation had a natural flow that led to her talking about Gilda's Club, a cancer support club in Madison for the whole family. We've heard about it (from our wonderful NP of course) and have been meaning to check it out because they have activities and groups aimed at little kiddos 4 and younger. She had heard wonderful things about the place too, but hadn't been there herself.
She initially heard about it from a gorgeous hospice home near Geoff's work. Apparently her mother was diagnosed early 2012 with stage 4 pancreatic cancer and died 2 months later. It all happened so fast and according to her, she is still having a hard time dealing with the grief, so it was recommended that she check out some of the support systems available at Gilda's Club.
I'm not sure exactly why I crossed paths with her today or even how the chain of events progressed from admiring and acknowledging my little love to bringing up the one thing that would make me reveal my dirty little secret. Obviously we have talked to her before, (Geoff remembers this, I do not) because she knew about Ella's giant birth status. I will however, remember her now. It's funny how these things work.
It's ironic that on the way to CSA I was telling Geoff that one of the things about cancer was I was able to see for the first time in my life all the different groups and associations that I belong to...my college friends, his college friends, my friends from my hometown, my neighbors, my work friends, my birthing world friends, my midwifery school friends, my parenting friends, my animal friends, and the list goes on and on...Cancer sucks but it makes certain aspects of your life are so transparent. It makes everyone realize that you aren't to be taken for granted and it definitely makes you realize not to take anyone or anything for granted. I will never look at life the same way as I did pre-cancer again. I am forever changed. The new me is more than happy to befriend a stranger with a common love for organic veggies and chubby babies who probably needs hugs just as much as me if not more.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Address
Due to an overwhelming request via email and Facebook I have decided to just post our address here.
Gin and Geoff McAlister
1617 SkyRidge Ct.
Stoughton, WI 53589
Gin and Geoff McAlister
1617 SkyRidge Ct.
Stoughton, WI 53589
Chemo Day 2
So off I went to begin my usual routine. Today was my 6th radiation treatment which means that they do new films to recheck all their calibrations. It only took a few minutes longer so then I was off to my weekly appointment with my radiation oncologist.
The appointment was pretty uneventful. We talked about my nausea med choices and she decided to give me a different prescription since I've been hesitant to take the meds that I currently have. That was about it.
Then I went to have my port accessed and get lab draws. This went well too, other than the fact that my skin around my port is red, scaly and very irritated. Everyone is hesitant to touch it because it looks so "angry," but it wasn't too bad.
Geoff met up with me outside the cancer clinic lab and we headed to the chemo treatment area. I checked in and then went to the bathroom. When I came back Geoff had a strange look on my face and muttered something about "you aren't going to be very happy." I figured it couldn't be too bad...I'll admit I was surprised to find that there was a mix-up and no one ever scheduled my chemo for today. I headed back up to the desk to figure out what I was supposed to do. I mentioned that I had just met with my radiation oncologist 15 minutes ago and when I mentioned the name I was told not to worry about it, they would take care of it.
A few minutes later the receptionist/HUC came over to tell me that was getting it all worked out and that she was scheduling all the rest of my chemo appointments so this wouldn't happen again. It seemed like no big deal, but we had no idea that we would literally watch every single person in the crowded waiting room get called back in addition to a couple more not present once the waiting room emptied out over the course of the next 3+ hours.
I slept poorly last night and my neck was killing me. I kept telling myself how ridiculous I was being. I had consciously chosen to skip Ibuprofen this morning because I figured I'd be getting my chemo treatment soon after leaving home and knew the combinations of anti nausea meds would knock me out. I had not planned on sitting in a waiting room chair for hours and it didn't take long for me to get pretty cranky and uncomfortable. Geoff wasn't anymore thrilled with our circumstances so our conversations quickly spiraled downhill to harmless, self-entertaining inappropriateness. We sat in our corner and giggled and passed the time away until it really was our turn with a couple of accidental (well, the initial one anyway) visits from our superhero NP.
 |
| It's cheesy, but at least I look happy |
By the time I was about halfway home I actually felt better than when I had gone in this morning. I'm guessing I had needed some fluids. I had planned to go home and sleep but after we got home I was feeling well enough that I went with Geoff to pick up the kids. Then we had a lovely dinner with/by a friend. It was a great evening and I felt silly having a friend bring us dinner because I was feeling so well.
Tonight really was a gift. I am very appreciative of the time I got to spend with my family, friend and even neighbors, tonight. I was told multiple times today that I look great and I felt like it too. I'm pretty sure I am kicking cancer's butt. I know the bad days will be back soon enough, but I'm glad I got today. I really feel like I can say I'm 1/3 of the way done and next week I'll be halfway there (not including internal radiation).
The real icing on the cake was this was the third night in a row that our determined little man decided he would go potty before bed. This is really thanks to a very wise aunt of mine who suggested "a treasure box" of bribes...I won't deny that I was skeptical at first...E doesn't do anything unless it is his idea and his time. I decided match box cars are cheap and fun so I started buying them and putting them in a box. I told E about the box and showed him the box. Soon he started talking about the box and which cars he was going to pick first. I still didn't think it would work but I am pleasantly pleased. He gets up in the morning and starts chattering away about all of it too and tonight when he came home from daycare he wanted to sit on the potty before anything else. I'm going to hope that we are about 1/3 of the way there with potty training too and if we just keep up the consistency we'll soon find ourselves done with diapers (well, half of them anyway) and cancer.
Monday, August 27, 2012
At a loss for words...
Most nights I have an idea what I want to write about, but not so much tonight. It's not that I don't have anything to say or that I don't have anything on my mind...If anything it's the opposite. I have too many thoughts.
I'm not looking forward to chemo tomorrow. I can deal with radiation. Tomorrow will mark a full week of going to daily radiation and it seems like it has become routine. I know the people I will see, and they know enough about to me to have a semi-personal conversation. They know how old my kids are. They know where I work and what I do. They know I'm currently not working because of all of this. They know I'm in midwifery school. Radiation treatments are quick, and dare I see, almost comfortable.
Chemo on the other hand, sucks. I get to have Geoff with me, but that's about it. I know that I am going to have to have my port accessed which eventually will be fine, but it is still really sore. I'm allergic to the dressings they used so my skin is broken out and even blistered in some areas. The areas around the port are bruised and yellow. Even though I know it's barely a prick, the idea that someone will touch my port site and put a dressing on it makes me cringe.
Then, I know that I will get a minimum of 2 and half liters of IV fluids over a few short hours. Let me just say, that I am sorry to all of my patients that I have ever done this to, because it sucks. To make matters worse, I have to take 3 types of anti-nausea meds all which knock me out cold. The whole being tired and sleeping thing isn't so bad except when you are completely groggy and you have to go to the bathroom like never before and you are attached to an IV and have to maneuver down the hall to the bathroom. Oh and don't forget, they have to measure my urine to know that I am actually urinating enough. If I don't, then I have to have Lasix (a drug that helps you shed the excessive fluids).
It sounds like I'm complaining and probably I am, but that's not my intention. It's just that a week ago I felt completely fine. I knew I had cancer, but I didn't feel it. Now I know that I'm going to feel it again tomorrow and the rest of this week. There is still some unknown to each treatment, but after last week I have an idea how I'm going to feel. No one likes feeling like crap and I know that's exactly where I'm headed.
That's one of the most difficult things for me to process. One day I feel fine and the next I don't. One day I can do whatever I want and the next I feel like I'm a 90 year old in a 35 year old body. I know that eventually I will feel better. I mean that's why I'm doing all this, right? but it's hard to just ignore how crummy all this makes me feel.
I guess I just have to keep telling myself that after tomorrow I will have 2 chemo days down and 4 to go, and remind myself that this will be over in no time. (and try to not think about the fact that I have no idea what is going to happen next...argh!)
I'm not looking forward to chemo tomorrow. I can deal with radiation. Tomorrow will mark a full week of going to daily radiation and it seems like it has become routine. I know the people I will see, and they know enough about to me to have a semi-personal conversation. They know how old my kids are. They know where I work and what I do. They know I'm currently not working because of all of this. They know I'm in midwifery school. Radiation treatments are quick, and dare I see, almost comfortable.
Chemo on the other hand, sucks. I get to have Geoff with me, but that's about it. I know that I am going to have to have my port accessed which eventually will be fine, but it is still really sore. I'm allergic to the dressings they used so my skin is broken out and even blistered in some areas. The areas around the port are bruised and yellow. Even though I know it's barely a prick, the idea that someone will touch my port site and put a dressing on it makes me cringe.
Then, I know that I will get a minimum of 2 and half liters of IV fluids over a few short hours. Let me just say, that I am sorry to all of my patients that I have ever done this to, because it sucks. To make matters worse, I have to take 3 types of anti-nausea meds all which knock me out cold. The whole being tired and sleeping thing isn't so bad except when you are completely groggy and you have to go to the bathroom like never before and you are attached to an IV and have to maneuver down the hall to the bathroom. Oh and don't forget, they have to measure my urine to know that I am actually urinating enough. If I don't, then I have to have Lasix (a drug that helps you shed the excessive fluids).
It sounds like I'm complaining and probably I am, but that's not my intention. It's just that a week ago I felt completely fine. I knew I had cancer, but I didn't feel it. Now I know that I'm going to feel it again tomorrow and the rest of this week. There is still some unknown to each treatment, but after last week I have an idea how I'm going to feel. No one likes feeling like crap and I know that's exactly where I'm headed.
That's one of the most difficult things for me to process. One day I feel fine and the next I don't. One day I can do whatever I want and the next I feel like I'm a 90 year old in a 35 year old body. I know that eventually I will feel better. I mean that's why I'm doing all this, right? but it's hard to just ignore how crummy all this makes me feel.
I guess I just have to keep telling myself that after tomorrow I will have 2 chemo days down and 4 to go, and remind myself that this will be over in no time. (and try to not think about the fact that I have no idea what is going to happen next...argh!)
A quick clarification...
I keep thinking about what I wrote last night in regards to the Kid's Miracle Network. I want to be clear....I am very happy there are charities like this. I hope my family never has a need for them. I support them and our local children's hospital...
I was frustrated because the phone call brought awareness to my own inability to provide the world to my kids right now. It was another reminder of my illness, my mortality, and the inescapable effects all this has on my family.
I'm stuck trying to decide how to balance explaining what's going on to E versus not burdening his youthful soul.
I'm not always the most articulate and I've spent the morning worrying that what I wrote last night came across as inconsiderate and selfish. That was never my intention...I was merely thinking of my kids, my cancer, my inadequacies.
I was frustrated because the phone call brought awareness to my own inability to provide the world to my kids right now. It was another reminder of my illness, my mortality, and the inescapable effects all this has on my family.
I'm stuck trying to decide how to balance explaining what's going on to E versus not burdening his youthful soul.
I'm not always the most articulate and I've spent the morning worrying that what I wrote last night came across as inconsiderate and selfish. That was never my intention...I was merely thinking of my kids, my cancer, my inadequacies.
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