It seems that the longer I continue these cancer treatments, the farther apart the updates become due to the unrelenting fatigue. That's probably the worst part of the whole ordeal – the fatigue. To make matters worse, I've also had chemo-induced insomnia for months. I rarely get to sleep before 2:00 a.m., though I am in bed many hours before that, tossing and turning. It wasn't too bad during the summer since I could sleep in a little before bringing Nick to the camp of the week; but now that school is back in session and the alarm screams at 6:30 a.m., I'm really feeling the exhaustion.
Chemo: Round 2
Three weeks after surgery, it was chemo time once again. The drug this time was Taxol, which I remember both my Aunt Ethel and my father received for their cancers. I just don't remember if it was easier for them than the other drugs or harder. For me, it was easier in some respects (no nausea or vomiting) but much harder in others.
The first thing the nurse told me before the first infusion was that the Taxol might cause neuropathy in my hands and feet. Though I didn't notice it after the first infusion, I began to feel it after the second. It got progressively worse over the course of the four infusions; and even though I finished the four cycles of Taxol a month ago, the neuropathy is still in full bloom. Sensitivity in my fingertips is greatly diminished (which makes for an interesting typing experience), and the tingling sensation often overtakes my hands right up to my wrists. I have difficulty buttoning buttons, picking up small objects, or doing any other task that requires a good sense of touch.
I understand that there is a possibility that the neuropathy will be permanent – at least, that's what the doctors have said, and I know of at least one breast cancer survivor who does have permanent neuropathy from her chemotherapy. The doctors have also said it may clear up in three to five months. As I pondered this information it occurred to me that I already know it will clear up in the Lord's time, as He promised I would be made whole. He didn't say "made whole except for continuing neuropathy." He said this disease would leave my body and I would be made whole. I have faith in the Lord and in His promises to me.
Another very difficult part of this phase of the treatment was the unbearable bone pain I experienced for five or six days after each Neulasta shot. The Neulasta shot is given the day after the chemo to induce the bones to make more white blood cells. Although I had been warned that it might make my bones hurt before undergoing the first cycle of chemotherapy, it did not have that effect on me then. It just made me feel like I had the flu for a couple of days. Maybe it was just the cumulation of all the chemo over time, but this cycle of Taxol seemed to react with the Neulasta and cause extreme bone pain. I would feel the pain first in my hips, then my lower legs, and finally in my joints. The hip and leg pain would disappear after about four days, but the joint pain lingered for several more days. Along with the bone pain was severe muscle weakness to the point that I thought my legs would give out from under me on several occasions. Thankfully, those side effects have ended.
During the course of the two cycles of chemo, I had heard several other patients joking about "chemo-brain." I finally know what they meant. Gosh, do I ever have chemo-brain! I have trouble remembering things, even simple things like words. Mike and I have enjoyed many a laugh at my inability to articulate my thoughts these days.
Prepping for Radiation
Now that the chemo and surgery are done, it's time for the final phase of treatment: radiation.
I went in to the radiologist's office today for a "mapping" appointment. Becky, the sweet technician who "mapped" me, got me settled onto the CT table with my head on a funky pillow made of what felt like foam pellets and air. I had to raise my left arm over my head, into the pillow, which she pushed and prodded until it was loosely formed around both my head and my arm. Then she suctioned the air out of the pillow until it formed tightly around my head and arm. She explained that this pillow will be used for all of my radiation treatments to ensure that I am in the exact same position each time.
The doctor came in after our pillow-shaping fun and drew lines all over my chest, delineating the area he wanted radiated. Then Becky taped off the area and took a CT scan. I had to lie quietly in place while she did her mapping work on the computer. The ceiling above the CT scanner is unlike any I've ever seen before, so I studied it while waiting. Eight of the large ceiling tiles had been replaced with what looked to be glass tiles painted with a beautiful outdoor scene that was brightly backlit. I enjoyed the view of the "clouds" and trees in their springtime splendor while I waited.
When Becky came back she used the laser guides on the CT scanner to pinpoint the exact spot the technician will focus on for the treatments. She then added her own drawings on my chest before removing the tape and tattooing me with three small dots to guide the technicians administering my treatments.
Our mapping fun over, Becky helped me up and gave me my appointment card. I'll be visiting every day at 8:20, starting next Monday, for the next 33 days.
Thank You
My family and I appreciate all the love and support we've received from our friends and church family throughout this trial. Your cards and letters, meals and service around our home have made a tough time easier to bear and we thank you from the bottom of our hearts.
