Chemo Treatment #14: Finally, Some Bad (or at The Very Least Eyebrow-Raising, If You Have Eyebrows) News & Unexpected Blessings

Chemo:         Taxol

Treatment:    #10 of 12 of Taxol

Companions:  none

Time:            3:40 p.m.

I was just having a discussion with Erin about how it’s better to live life in the moment rather than wait for the other shoe to drop.  If there’s anything I’ve learned from this experience with Karla, it is to live in the moment and appreciate every moment that I am given to enjoy.  I have been cognizant of the known risks associated with the journey I’m on, but I haven’t dwelled on them.  I mean, there is just too much right now to experience, enjoy, and be thankful for.  That all said, it was actually slightly refreshing to discuss some questionable news today with Dr. Otero (who filled in for Dr. Pinder today while she’s on vacation for the next couple weeks).  It was a nice reminder that although I have been doing my best to live a superhuman life, I really am human.

I may have shared earlier that although the Taxol is generally easier on my body than that crazy Adriamycin/Cytoxin crap, some people on Taxol experience peripheral neuropathy (nerve damage).  Most people recover from initial peripheral neuropathy if caught early enough and dealt with, but for some people this condition will be permanent.  At its worst, people have difficulty walking because they can’t feel their feet and they have grip issues with their hands because they have lost strength.  During every chemo treatment, the first question my doctor asks me is whether I have experienced any tingling or numbness in my hands/fingers or feet/toes.  It’s one of the most dangerous side effects of the Taxol because it’s potentially permanent. 

Unfortunately, I had to tell Dr. Otero today that I started feeling some tingling in my feet last night.  While I was trying to get to sleep last night, I thought perhaps that I ran more than I should have last week or my hike that day was super harsh on my feet.  Then when I woke up today and the tingling sensation was still present, I realized that it was probably the Taxol finally catching up with me. 

As a result, Dr. Otero decreased my dosage of Taxol by a 1/4.  He assured me that decreasing my dosage today would not affect my prognosis because I’m so close to the end of treatment.  However, he also warned that if the tingling/numbness continues or gets worse, the doctors may have to decrease my dosage even more, stop me all together (I would then miss my last two chemo treatments), or switch me over to another chemo drug.  I’m still feeling a bit of tingling in my feet, so I’m taking it easy today and hoping that the tingling subsides.

I did find a medical abstract that made me giggle about today’s news.  Check it at: http://www.springerlink.com/content/b7288×7h8r837j27/.  Apparently, being vertically-challenged may have been one of the reasons why it took so long for me to experience any of this nerve damage crap!  Something to be thankful for, right?  Jesus, I never thought I’d be thankful for being a midget.

Then to end today’s chemo treatment, the nurse who was giving me my Goserelin shot (to protect my ovaries during chemo) gave me a local anesthetic (Lidocaine) but totally missed the area where the Lidocaine was given.  Diane, my usual nurse, was on vacation today, so I had a different nurse.  I was confused by what was going on and the pain I felt (I mean, what the hell happened to the Lidocaine?), so like an idiot it took me a while to say something to my nurse, who was very slowly shoving that large needle into my side.  I ended up just riding out the pain until the dang Goserelin shot was done.  Very shitty.  Thankfully, although I’ve dropped some weight, I still have a bit of a muffin top around my waist, so the “stabbing” wasn’t fatal.  I guess today is the day for unexpected blessings, as I never thought I’d be thankful for my muffin top!

My Surgery Date

I just heard back from Rita Kelly, the Breast Cancer Coordinator at Virginia Mason.  Now that I’m just a mere three chemo treatments from the end, it’s time to schedule my surgery.  All my pre-operative tests (ultrasound, digital mammogram, and MRI) are scheduled for the day after Labor Day (9/2) and my surgery will take place on Monday (9/8). 

Now that the date has been set, I’ve started focusing more on my right breast.  Soon, my nipple (if I’m able to keep it) will point toward my armpit.  It will take a lot of time to adjust, and I don’t meet with a plastic surgeon to discuss my reconstruction options until October, so I’m a bit melancholy today.

Chemo Treatment #13: Work Craziness, Surgery Scheduling, Bad Hair, Fingernails Return, Planning Shea & Eric’s Wedding Reception, Prostitution Cha Cha Cha, and A Dumb Yellow

Chemo:         Taxol

 

Treatment:    #9 of 12 of Taxol

 

Companions:  Jackie Schultz

 

Time:            3:40 p.m.

 

And we watched sunset at Alki Beach. . . .  At least that’s how I ended my day before hitting the computer to draft this blog post.  Seriously, so much happened today, justifying the long ass title (which Jackie demanded for this blog post).

 

My appointment was late this afternoon, so I was able to spend most of the day at work before heading to chemo.  I know, I know — psycho Cat is back at her crazy schedule.  But I’m trying to financially sustain and bill as much as possible while I’m able.  I’m a bit scared of how long I’ll be off of work recovering from surgery and how radiation will affect my energy after surgery.

 

Now for good news — I’m now officially down to three more chemo treatments!  Whoo hoo!  I’m so close to the end of chemo that Dr. Pinder has alerted the Cancer Care Coordinator, Rita Kelly, to schedule my surgery.  I’m hoping that my surgery will be scheduled during the first week of September right after Labor Day.  My recovery time should be two weeks at the quickest, so I’ll be out of commission for a while.  But that’s just more time for me to devote to my blog, right? 

 

I had a few conversations with some doctors last week (including the Senior Genetic Counselor at Myriad) about my stupid inconclusive genetic test results to get more information about what surgery to have.  After debriefing with Dad and my therapist with all the options and conflicting information I received this week, I think I’m leaning toward a lumpectomy.  However, I’ll save that drama for the next blog post.

 

Jackie joined me for today’s chemo treatment, and we watched Shear Genius, the reality program on Bravo about hair stylists.  Not my favorite of the wonderful reality programming Bravo offers.  The episode we watched was all about up-dos.  Talk about drama.  Lemme go on the record to say that Jackie has committed to wearing an up-do with lots of curls at my wedding if and when I get married.  I just have to sedate her before her hair is done and have her escort wheel her down the aisle before she wakes up.  Heh heh.

 

My white blood cell count was down today, but Dr. Pinder confirmed that my fingernails are actually looking pretty good — apparently the A/C was harder on my nails than the Taxol has been.  Felicity mentioned last weekend that she thought my nails were looking better than the photos I posted not too long ago, and she was right!  Keep your fingernails crossed for me — I would love it if I keep mine!

 

After chemo, Jackie and I joined Shea and Eric to check out the venue for their upcoming wedding reception.  Very cool space along Alki Beach in West Seattle.  I believe Jackie, Shea, and Eric have decided on the layout for the event.  We also made strides on deciding on the menu.  It’s going to be a fun reception!

 

We all went to Bamboo Grill after checking out the reception space and sat outside to have our dinner and do some people watching.  With the water, the clear skies, and the sun setting in front of us, and with Bob Marley playing in the background, it actually felt a lot like home (Hawaii).  What made it feel even more like home were all the scantily clad hoochie mamas who kept going in and out of Bamboo Grill to have cigarettes.  As one particular ho-bag exited the restaurant in a micromini dress, super bleached blond hair, and tons of makeup on, Jackie whispered to me “Prostitution, cha cha cha.”  I just about died laughing.  For those of you who don’t know this reference – it’s from Beavis and Butthead.  Yep, Beavis and Butthead.  I proceeded to laugh like Butthead every time a ho-bag came to or left the restaurant.  Explaining the reference to Shea and Eric was just as funny.  Dang.  Perhaps the chemo hit me pretty hard today.

 

Actually, now I’m sure the chemo hit me pretty hard when I think about how catty I got (pun intended) at the end of the day right before the sun set.  We watched a short, skinny Asian dude set his alarm in his overpriced sports car which was parked on Alki right in front of where he and his similarly-yellow girlfriend were eating outside at Bamboo Grill.  Who needs to turn on a car alarm when your car is parked right in front of you?  WTF?  The internal sensor of the dude’s sports car was set off every time a large car drove by, which was often, given where we were at and how nice the weather was today.  And this dude proceeded to reset his alarm each time it went off.  Man, just dumb.

 

All in all, it was a very full day and very fun.  I feel like the good Seattle summer weather gives me more energy than I usually have!

 

Chemo Treatment #12: Accessing My Power Port & Steve Balmer Day

Chemo:         Taxol

Treatment:    #8 of 12 of Taxol

Companions:  Troy Sandal, Sven Liden, and Destiny Bassett

Time:            3:40 p.m.

 

I was lucky enough to have 2.5 companions today.  Sven and Troy, who recently completed the Seattle-to-Portland bike ride this weekend while the rest of us were at Floating Woman, were my men-in-waiting for today’s chemo treatment.  Destiny, who also biked the STP this weekend, walked up to Virginia Mason after work to join us for a bit before she and Sven headed home for a nap (I suspect burning 8000+ calories will do that to you).

 

Troy lives in San Francisco, and the last time he was in town he attempted to accompany me to chemo.  Unfortunately, that was the same trip that landed me in the ER, so he’s never actually seen me receive chemo.  Thankfully, it was that fated trip to the ER that finally started this blog! 

 

Whenever anyone new accompanies me to chemo, I make particular note of the process of “accessing” my Power Port.  You may recall that I had a Power Port (or central line) put in prior to starting chemo to make chemo treatments as easy as possible and so that I wouldn’t have a ton of track marks on my arms from having an IV started for each chemo treatment.  With my tech-savvy men-in-waiting, I was able to video this process to share with you:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ttZgtlWH8vE.  Pretty cool, huh?

 

The funniest part of today, however, was when Sven and Troy showed me their new haircuts.  Not only did they join the others who shaved their heads on Sunday at Floating Woman, but they went through extra lengths to insure that I wouldn’t be able to tell they shaved their heads until they were ready to unveil their surprise, sporting a Steve Balmer “do.”  They chose to do the unveiling while Dr. Pinder was in the treatment room with us.  Dr. Pinder was amused, but I think also a bit confused and perhaps even scared by the Steve Balmer dos, and here’s why:

Sven: http://www.flickr.com/photos/28443091@N03/2672931725/

Troy: http://www.flickr.com/photos/28443091@N03/2673750398/ 

Don’t be fooled by Sven’s photo, which makes him look like he may have a mohawk because he’s sitting in front of a mirror.  His haircut is really just as bad as Troy’s.  Thankfully, Troy and Sven fully shaved their heads later that evening so that we would be three bald peas in a pod:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/28443091@N03/2673750502/.  Missing from this photo is Mr. Gary Gould, who also shaved his head for me but who was sweet enough to take the photo for us.

 

Regarding my chemo treatment today, Dr. Pinder shared with me that my white blood cell count is almost back to “normal.”  She was pleased to report that I appear to be recovering quite well, despite the fact that I still have four more treatments to go.  Whoo hoo! 

 

Lotsa action today and even more good news.  I couldn’t be happier!

Floating Woman

I just got back from Floating Woman, a camping event hosted by the Benedetti Family at Lake Kachess, which is about an hour east of Seattle.  I’ve known Winda Benedetti for years.  The first Floating Woman camping trip was a wedding anniversary celebration for Suzi and Bob Benedetti, Winda’s parents.  We had so much fun that first year that Reagen Benedetti, Winda’s sister, has made this an annual event by organizing the camping trip every year.  I believe the name “Floating Woman” finds its origins in response to “Burning Man,” another communal camping event many of my friends attend every year.  Also, the camping weekend includes a boat race, which makes the name “Floating Woman” even more appropriate.

I spent this past weekend enjoying the familiar campsite, great weather, and amazing company.  I also spent this weekend thinking about how much has happened in the last year.  Temporal markers mean a lot more to me nowadays and this weekend was one of them.  At last year’s Floating Woman, Alex and I were together and talking about long-term plans, I was starting trial preparation for several large cases I was handling, and I thought I was in pretty good physical shape at the time. I had no clue that I would be diagnosed with cancer in seven months. I also thought about all my friends who have gone through a lot of changes in the last year — babies were born and pregnancies announced, relationships have changed, and new homes created (some in different cities!). Lots of transition in the last year.

This weekend was just amazing. We couldn’t have asked for better weather. I arrived on Friday evening with Marshall and the Stepvan, which was a treat (it’s a totally different experience to ride in the Stepvan while it’s going 70+ mph). Saturday we all played in the lake and got a ton of sun, Saturday night we were entertained by “Soap Opera” skits put on by some of the campers, and today was the annual boat race, where Bob Benedetti finally won the coveted trophy. It was a great weekend.

Reagen Benedetti organizes Floating Woman every year, and this year she wanted to make the weekend a fundraising event. After finding out more about my condition and financial woes, she decided to have this year’s event be a fundraiser for me. Therefore, theme this year was, “The Bald and the Beautiful.” It was weird to have the focus on me this weekend, but it was also very empowering to be able to share my experiences with this extended group of friends.

The most powerful experience this weekend was the hair-cutting event today, where Reagen shaved the heads of willing participants in concert with this year’s theme. It was shocking to see how many people came forward to have their lovely locks sheared off! All the Benedetti women — Reagen, Winda, Annette, and Suzi; Annette’s husband James and two daughters, Phoenix, and Rain; Eric and his mom Donnie; and adorable Oz all got their hair cut or shaved in a show of support. I’ll have to update my blog with photos of all our shaved heads when I get photos from Winda.

I haven’t really processed the loss of my hair until this weekend. Since my diagnosis, there have been many times where I’ve felt like I’ve been placed on a train with a pre-fixed destination where everyone knows what’s going on and where we’re going except for me. As a result, I feel like perhaps I’ve just “gone with the flow” without really accepting or experiencing the real implications of what’s going on. Losing my hair was one of those experiences during this journey. It was great to have some fun with it and “hawk it out.” It was a bit more serious but still upbeat when Erin shaved my head fully bald. And I’ve definitely had some fun trying to coordinate head gear along with my wardrobe since losing all my hair. But the actual loss of my hair was a pretty sobering moment. I’ve always felt a strong connection between my hair and my personal sense of beauty, so watching the drain every day as I washed my hair and saw more and more hair fall out was very hard for me. This weekend at Lake Kachess I watched a bunch of people shave their heads in support of me and it was very overwhelming. I had to fight tears during the experience. It was such a happy moment for me, I didn’t want the photos and video being taken while it was all happening to reflect anything but joy.

I’ve found support and love everywhere along this path that I’ve been on since my diagnosis.  Floating Woman was another affirmation how many amazing people love and care for me and the power of that support system.  There is no obstacle I can’t overcome with this kind of support.

Positive Updates

I think it was Dorothy this past 4th of July weekend who mentioned that my blog didn’t really sound like I was doing okay.  Note that my pneumonia scare was an anomaly and I apologize if my tone at times is depressing.  I have been doing quite well throughout chemo thus far, but for that one day in the ER.  And as most of you know, I am usually a positive, upbeat person.  Obviously, I’m not the best about updating my blog regularly, so I realize that I need to be better about documenting my treatment and how I’m doing on a more consistent basis.

As a general update, I have been working out pretty regularly (clearly more regularly than I update this blog) and have been doing a ton of pilates with Erin at Maya Whole Health Studio in Fremont.  For those of you who don’t know Erin, she owns Maya and is an amazing pilates instructor.  I’m new to pilates and just love it.  My body image issues have always been with my midsection (us Filipinas gain our weight right in the middle), so pilates has been a great addition to my workout regimen.  I train with Erin twice a week, run/walk/climb stairs four days a week, and take Mondays off for chemo.  Hopefully I’ll incorporate a less joint-impacting workout during the week like cycling, swimming (if I can ever get myself to learn), or yoga.  I’m no spring chicken anymore, and running four times a week will have an impact (pun intended) on my joints. 

I have to share about a workout I had right at the beginning of my Taxol treatments.  I’m not sure if it was because I was still coming off of that nasty A/C stuff or if my body was a bit shocked by the switch to Taxol, but the stairs I usually climb as part of my workout was particularly hard this day.  As I was nearing the last flight of stairs, two 20-something-year-old men came jogging down the stairs.  One of the guys stopped near where I had stopped to catch my breath, smiled at me, and quietly encouraged me, “You can do it!”  I giggled in response, smiled back at him, and thanked him for his vote of confidence.  Notably, I work out with no hat on, so it’s a bit obvious that I have cancer.  That interaction put on a smile on my face for all my other workouts that week.  Although the workouts seemed harder, I kept hearing that guy’s voice in my head (along with a bit of a Rob Schneider accent) — You can do it! 

Working out regularly has kept my energy level up and has also forced me to prioritize my days.  Not having a regular sleep schedule affects my productivity on some days, but exercising regularly helps me keep a regular sleep schedule as much as possible.  It’s been pleasantly surprising to realize that I can bill 155 hours a month AND still get regular exercise.  I used to blame work for not working out.  Now, I have no excuse.  Not that I want to work at a job that demands a ton of time from me, but now that I know that I can work, exercise, and battle cancer – again, I have no excuse.

As for work, I’ve been powering through.  I am blessed to have such an amazing support staff and very cool associate attorneys.  Associates in my firm have kicked additional work my way when I needed to bill more hours for any given pay period; conversely, associates have assisted me with tasks when I needed help; and my firm’s support staff has treated every project from me with “priority” status.  Although I’m in a shitty position having to work full time during my treatment, I couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to work with.

As for additional support, it’s been amazing having such a great group of friends to lean on during this process.  Dr. Pinder has joked every time I bring a new person with me to chemo that she has never met anyone with as many friends as I have.  The caveat that I will add to her observation is that I don’t just have a ton of friends — I have friends who truly want to help me and support me in any way possible during my battle with Karla.  Now THAT is really an amazing fact.  I thank my lucky stars every day for the support system I have.  I wrote earlier about being solo and alone, but it is really hard to be “alone” with the group of friends I have.

Last, but not least, is my family.  I swear, my father calls almost every day to make sure I’m okay.  I think he’s trying to hold back recently, because I haven’t received a call from him in the last couple days.  I really get a lot strength from talking to my Dad.  He always tells me that it makes him feel so much better to hear my voice, but what he doesn’t realize is that I too feel much better after I have had a chance to talk to him.  There have been times where it feels like we’ve talked for hours.  He’s going through a slew of health problems of his own and yet he calls me regularly to find out how I’m doing.  He’s been one of the most helpful people to talk to as I struggle with the choice of what surgery to have, given my inconclusive genetic test results.  My Dad has a lot of life experience for being a youthful 72 years old.  He always has great perspective for me whenever we talk about tough issues regarding my treatment.  I look forward to when I will have the chance to fly home to see my family — hopefully this Christmas.

So there — I’m really doing okay!

Chemo Treatment #11: Big Chortles

Chemo:         Taxol

Treatment:    #7 of 12 of Taxol

Companion:    Eza

Time:            3:40 p.m.

 

I was blessed enough to have Eza join me for this chemo treatment while she’s home.  For those of you who don’t know Eza, she works on a ship for several months out of the year, so I was very happy to have her with me today.

 

Prior to today’s chemo treatment, I had another ECG done to insure my heart wasn’t messed up by the Adriamycin/Cytoxin treatments.  Thankfully, the ECG results came back a-OK.  In fact, Dr. Pinder noted that my heart is actually in pretty tip-top shape, scoring a “74.”  Not sure what that numerical designation means, other than the fact that Dr. Pinder said the number corresponds with how much blood the heart pumps out and that healthy hearts score a “55″ at the bottom of the healthy range.  Pretty cool.

 

As expected, the actual chemo treatment today was pretty uneventful.  No new side effects or complications, no pneumonia (thank God), and nothing unusual about my labs (blood work).  One thing I noticed after today’s chemo treatment is that my rapid weight loss has started to slow down.  I’ve dropped about 15 pounds since chemo began, and I’m very happy with that trend.  Dr. Pinder said that my rate of weight loss is acceptable for now and that I might actually lose more weight after chemo concludes and I’m off of the steroids I’ve been prescribed as part of my treatment.  I’m actually at a point where I don’t fit most of my clothes anymore but am unwilling to invest too much in new clothes because: (1) I’m broke; and (2) I’m unsure what size I’ll be when all is said and done with treatment.  Those of you who know me well know that I have more than enough clothes stashed away in the back of my closet (perhaps even with tags on) that fit me.  They may be several seasons old, but they’ll fit me.  Thank God I’m a pack rat!

 

The other thing I’ve noticed from the last two chemo treatments is that although chemo appointments later in the day allow me to get into the office in the morning, my sleep schedule is affected because of when I take my steroids (dexamethasone).  I have to take the dexamethasone 12 hours before chemo and an hour before chemo, so with later appointments I have to take the dex right in the middle of the night.  Not that I have a typical sleep schedule anyway, given my hot flashes and other menopausal symptoms that disrupt my sleep, but it’s just one more thing that I need to deal with. 

 

Having Eza with me today was such a treat.  It was very amusing as we crossed our fingers as she attempted to drive Sunny (her huge Ford “Tonka Truck”) into Virginia Mason’s parking garage.  We now know that Sunny will fit in a garage with a clearance of 6′4″ . . . or was it 6′6″?  Dang, I better not chance it the next time I’m driving Sunny into a parking garage.  I was the last of the chemo patients today (we got out of there close to 6 p.m.) and my ECG was at 1 p.m., so Eza put in a full day to be my companion.  After chemo we went to Green Leaf for dinner, where we had amazing food and great discussion.  I ordered a tamarind soda, which I’d never had there before.  Good stuff. 

 

After dinner at Green Leaf, we made our way to Scott’s birthday gathering, and Eza mentioned that our day together wasn’t done — she was not going to leave me until she got two big laughs out of me.  This is exactly what makes my time with Eza so much fun — she never ceases to surprise me with unusual challenges, even if we’re just hanging out.  As she and I attempted to navigate toward Beacon Hill from Georgetown (I chose the wrong I-5 exit, which put is in Georgetown to begin with), I struggled with directions that I would usually be very apt at giving.  I apologized to Eza profusely, noting, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, usually I give very good directions,” to which Eza replied, “Perhaps it’s because you just had chemo?”  I know that doesn’t read super funny here in this blogpost, but I have to tell you, Eza’s comedic timing and intonation were brilliant in that moment.  I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.  Big Chortles.  The Merriam-Webster online dictionary defines “chortle” as:  1 : to sing or chant exultantly <he chortled in his joy — Lewis Carroll> 2 : to laugh or chuckle especially in satisfaction or exultation.  The more I think about it, the more I realize that this word screams “Eza.”  There is truly a healing power to laughter and good company, and with Eza I am blessed to have had both today.