Day One: Xeloda + Tukysa

I was anxious.  My nerves were working at high speeds, making my gut hurt and my brain spin.  I wanted to scream and cry and be mad at the world and punch a pillow and run away or just not go through with it. Could I please go back to sleep, for all the hours it would take to make this year, and all the crap that has come along with it, simply go away? 

Already, the frustrations over acquiring my two oral chemotherapy prescriptions was enough to make me want to quit.  What, you ask?  Couldn't I just wait for a Walgreen's text to tell me this new drug cocktail was ready?  Definitely not.

For one pill, I have to use a mail-out pharmacy, which set up a date and time for drop-off.  I cleared my schedule to be at home for that whole day, which turned out to be a waste.  Only a missed package sticker alerted me they had and gone.  I most likely missed the FedEx delivery while I was in the bathroom, taking a 2020.  Calling the number from the missed package sticker led me only to robots and never to a representative or real answers.  I downloaded the app and tried to communicate with the online assistant, but that binary code did not compute my complicated crisis.   When I sent a message, the app froze.  I gave up on the hassle of it all after an hour, and, I'm sad to say, lost hope. 

Remarkably, five hours later, the truck came back and handed my medication over.  That message, and all other attempts, must have gotten through to someone.

The second drug required me to get a ride to the downtown pharmacy. [Those cannot be delivered because they require refrigeration.]   Before I could leave, a pharmacist enlightened me on ALL of the possible side-effects.  Not much to worry about, really.  

Just the list of regulars:

• diarrhea
• rash, redness, pain, swelling, or blisters on the palms of your hands or soles of your feet
• nausea
• tiredness
• increased liver function blood tests
• vomiting
• mouth sores (stomatitis)
• decreased appetite
• stomach-area (abdomen) pain
• headache
• a low number of red blood cells (anemia)
• rash

The other pill adds, relatively, more of the same:

• severe nausea or vomiting (may be severe),
• stomach pain or upset,
• loss of appetite,
• constipation,
• tiredness,
• weakness,
• back/joint/muscle pain,
• headache,
• dizziness,
• trouble sleeping,
• skin darkening,
• skin rash,
• dry/itchy skin, or
• numbness or tingling in your hands or feet
• hair loss
• nail weakness

What, REALLY, is there to be afraid of???????

So, on the big day, I put on my big girl panties, swallowed my big pile of pills, put on a semi-fancy dress, and prayed that I would be strong enough to survive again, after only a short pause in the struggle.  All of this hopeful thinking didn't stop ALL of the frustrated tears or anxious fears.  My youngest son did notice I was a little scared about my treatment, and insisted I take one of his squishies for support.  

 I was grateful to only have a short infusion [if it hadn't been delayed by a late arrival and a sluggish pharmacy.]  

I was comforted by many compliments on my growing hair, for actually putting on makeup, wearing such a fancy-for-chemo outfit, and the comparison of Princess Aurora to me. [Aurora just happened to be my nurse of the day, as well.]  The infusion visit was working for good.  

Despite the stress of the morning, I felt as if God was throwing a little humor my way.  I noticed that my consent form mistakingly showed my reason for this new drug combo as: "BEAST CANCER." BEAST CANCER???!?  Aurora was mortified!  I thought it was HILARIOUS!! After that priceless gem, there was much laughter, and some of my angst melted away.  

 

I am happy to say that I survived the day.  It was not what I would call joyous. However, I was able to take a long nap..not long enough to erase the crap of the year, but long enough to dream away more anxiety.   I thought back on seeing the viles of my blood [for labwork] against the color of my dress.  I've known for a long time that Aggies Bleed Maroon, but my own blood actually seemed closer to maroon than red today.  Perhaps my vision was playing tricks on me.  OR, perhaps it was just another sign that I need to remember to fight and to BTHOC. I was still nervous and questioning which fun side-effects were headed my way,  but I know of miracles and tender mercies of being saved before, and have hope that those will happen again.  

Guess Who's Back? Back Again.

It was scan results and infusion day.  I would like this post to be about all the joy.  It will not be.  

I will start with the happy thoughts first:

•  got a ride from L.
• passed the Covid screenbladdering with 96.7
• made it on time
• not much wait time
• took the secret passageway from treatment to doctor area
• met a new nurse
• met face-to-face with Dr. Cole
• labs looking great
• no abnormality observed in brain, pancreas, spleen, lungs, adrenals, kidneys, uterus, lymph nodes.  
• no changes observed in spine or pelvic regions.  
• blood clot in gonadal vein no longer identified
• had a short infusion, as I only needed Zometa today

Now, for the not-so-happy thoughts:

• new irregular legion seen in liver (1.6cm)
• another new irregular legion hanging outside the liver in the peritoneal space (1.4cm)
• small focus on enhancement having out in duodenal wall 

There it is.  Cancer is back.  Even if just a little bit and hasn't been much of a rest at all, the fight is raring up again.  

The plan is to try a cocktail of three drugs, which was just approved this year.  I don't know yet when it will begin....we must wait for the approval of the insurance.  

Here we go again...........

Today's Curse is Tomorrow's Blessing (Wednesday Scans)

Who among us can say, "I have glided through life with no worries or pain or confrontations or problems of any kind."?  Is there ever a year with perfect weather and purely radiant days, free from health issues or heartache?  Of course, the answer is NO.  

This life is filled with a plethora of triumphs and trials, sunshine and storms,  along with time for celebration, as well as for sorrows.  The trick is to learn to survive as well as to thrive, no matter where this adventure leads and what lies along the tracks.  To 'bear the journeying without murmuring' is not easy or natural to human nature, but the attempt at it is one way I continue to fight cancer and feel strength.  

acceptance

sorrow

humility

faith

gratitude 

hope

kindess

humor

communication

learning

sharing

grit

optimism 

forgiveness

empathy + sympathy

charity

knowledge

understanding

prayer

work

family + friends

grace

love

These are only a few traits I have been working on cultivating in my mind and heart, my ammunition against sorrow in this lifelong battle against the curse of cancer........and any other challenge I meet.  The objective is happiness, yet not JUST happiness.  I aim to see the light amidst the darkness.  My drive is for my family and to lift others.  I strive to remain meek and loving and concerned for my fellow humans, while working to remain grateful for all that surrounds me.  Being physically and spiritually healthy is a great blessing, but it is not just a gift, landing on those who simply stand in the right place on at a certain time.  It takes a growth-mindset, work, and hopeful steadfastness.  And, with all this action, there must be the understanding that the point might not be to overcome it all. In my case, I have learned to prepare and accept that there may come a day when the answer is "no."  I have been healed so many times since 2013.  I have to continue to have love and. understanding that there might be a time when I won't be. 

 

I had scans today.  Similar thoughts seem to accompany this procedure: Will cancer stay away?  Will I have to battle again?  Where will these cells attack my body, and how will I force them away? Do I have the energy and strength to fight again?  How will another battle affect all the people in my life?  Focusing on the negative has taken my mind down a wormhole to the dark side before.  Today, I try to Baby Yoda my way out.  

Then, the joy trickles in.  Joy #1: My dear friend drives me, we catch up a bit because we can't be together as much as we would like in this doo-doo year, but we arrive early. Once there, I approach the front desk with a smile behind my mask.  "Good morning!  I'm here to order my delicious, vanilla + Barium shake!"  

Joy #2: Due to the CORONAS, they are not doing that right now,  Two big glasses of cold water would due.  Hurray!  (Yet, if water works now, why does it not work every time?  And, what evidence of cancer could be missed with just icy agua? [Focus on the joy, Mel.  Focus on the JOY!!!]  

Joy#3: I don't feel a thing when my port is accessed.  

Joy#4: Out comes my favorite scan tech, Lance, who remembers me, gets my jokes, is tall, dark, and handsome---for someone else, of course!, and likes me as a person (or at least pretends to,). This means that the scans will be a breeze!   

Joy#5: I about die laughing when, after multiple reminders to return upstairs to have my port de-accessed, I pack up and start heading out the door!  Only placing my bad down to search for sunglasses reminds me of my airhead action and triggers a chuckle-fest with myself on the way upstairs and with my nurse, who had been wondering what was taking me so long! 

Joy#6: I felt zero pain when the needle was pulled out, which is a far cry from the grief many nurses gave me with my previous port.  

Joy#7: We drive-thru to order a healthy lunch, which was much needed after my morning of fasting, except for pills and delicious H2O.  

It's important to remember that this life is for joy.  Sometimes circumstances leads to sorrow.  It takes work, but we can choose to see the good within it all.  That is how the battle with today's curse can lead to tomorrow's blessings.