I am so sorry it has taken me so long to write. In my defense, I have cancer. :) My brother tells me I need to be using that excuse more often because soon I won't be able to and its pretty much infallible.
I have wanted to write numerous times and had many things to say, but this new chemo, Taxol, is kicking my tail. Taxol is the chemo I could not take while pregnant, and I know why--it is very very rough on you. It is a word I will not forget for a very long time. There is no nausea or gastrointestinal impact at all, rather there is severe debilitating bone, muscle, and joint pain. I have tried to figure out how to describe it. The best thing I can come up with is take the pain you have the day after you've "done too much." I don't mean that good feeling from a good work out, but the leg/knee pain from helping a friend move apartments and it lets you know your age. Add that to the worst flu you can imagine and the aches that come with it. Then, if any of you remember the leg aches you got as a kid throw that in. Put all three of those together, times it by 3 and you'll be close. Oh, and add someone stabbing you with a screw driver over and over. I know that sounds really melodramatic, but it is truly 100% how I have felt these last 3 chemos. Yep, three. I have done 3 and ONLY HAVE ONE LEFT!! We'll talk more about that later, back to the pain. I was given the strongest pain meds you can get and they truly did not take away the pain, just took the edge off. I still wake up from the stabbing pain in the night. I have chemo on Tuesday morning, then the pain starts during the night on Wednesday. Thursday through Sunday I am in overwhelming pain, just trying to function. One of the more annoying parts of the "bone pain" is in the sternum it feels like the worst heart burn you've ever had. You can swallow a bottle of tums, and it will power on.
On top of that, it causes peripheral neuropathy. My hands and feet are numb and tingly. It makes typing very difficult and I am wobbly on my feet. It is very annoying and I hope it goes away. In some people it can stick around; I am praying mine goes away. Lastly, you get hot flashes. That is actually from the medicine they use to mix the Taxol in, so I shouldn't blame the Taxol really--but it still happens. I can now say I understand menopause a bit better.
As I mentioned, I have already had 3 rounds of this chemo and only have one left. In one week, I will have my last dose of chemo, number 10. It is surreal. I feel like as fast as it came into my life, pushing me into chaos, it is leaving. In a very strange sense, I will almost miss it. Almost. I am sure that sounds crazy, but it has become my routine. Since November, over 5 months ago, my life has revolved around my chemo appointments and side effects. The nurses in the infusion center have become good friends. They have been integral in my sanity through all this. And then boom--you are done. Its not that my cancer journey is even finished. I still have a mastectomy, radiation, and reconstruction to deal with. But, as I talked about before, closing these chapters is hard.
I attend a support group (I highly recommend this for anyone going through this) for women with breast cancer with young children. Very specialized groups they have. It is extremely helpful. The other women have talked about how when they were finally finished and went to their last checkup with the oncologist/surgeon/radiologist they weren't sure what to do with themselves. You mean no more weekly appointments? No more poking and prodding? Who will I talk to if I don't go see the nurses every week? They say for a bit, their life feels empty--like they are missing something or forgetting something. I am sure I am going to experience that.
There is much more to say--but it will have to wait until tomorrow. I have an unhappy baby crying for me.
I have wanted to write numerous times and had many things to say, but this new chemo, Taxol, is kicking my tail. Taxol is the chemo I could not take while pregnant, and I know why--it is very very rough on you. It is a word I will not forget for a very long time. There is no nausea or gastrointestinal impact at all, rather there is severe debilitating bone, muscle, and joint pain. I have tried to figure out how to describe it. The best thing I can come up with is take the pain you have the day after you've "done too much." I don't mean that good feeling from a good work out, but the leg/knee pain from helping a friend move apartments and it lets you know your age. Add that to the worst flu you can imagine and the aches that come with it. Then, if any of you remember the leg aches you got as a kid throw that in. Put all three of those together, times it by 3 and you'll be close. Oh, and add someone stabbing you with a screw driver over and over. I know that sounds really melodramatic, but it is truly 100% how I have felt these last 3 chemos. Yep, three. I have done 3 and ONLY HAVE ONE LEFT!! We'll talk more about that later, back to the pain. I was given the strongest pain meds you can get and they truly did not take away the pain, just took the edge off. I still wake up from the stabbing pain in the night. I have chemo on Tuesday morning, then the pain starts during the night on Wednesday. Thursday through Sunday I am in overwhelming pain, just trying to function. One of the more annoying parts of the "bone pain" is in the sternum it feels like the worst heart burn you've ever had. You can swallow a bottle of tums, and it will power on.
On top of that, it causes peripheral neuropathy. My hands and feet are numb and tingly. It makes typing very difficult and I am wobbly on my feet. It is very annoying and I hope it goes away. In some people it can stick around; I am praying mine goes away. Lastly, you get hot flashes. That is actually from the medicine they use to mix the Taxol in, so I shouldn't blame the Taxol really--but it still happens. I can now say I understand menopause a bit better.
As I mentioned, I have already had 3 rounds of this chemo and only have one left. In one week, I will have my last dose of chemo, number 10. It is surreal. I feel like as fast as it came into my life, pushing me into chaos, it is leaving. In a very strange sense, I will almost miss it. Almost. I am sure that sounds crazy, but it has become my routine. Since November, over 5 months ago, my life has revolved around my chemo appointments and side effects. The nurses in the infusion center have become good friends. They have been integral in my sanity through all this. And then boom--you are done. Its not that my cancer journey is even finished. I still have a mastectomy, radiation, and reconstruction to deal with. But, as I talked about before, closing these chapters is hard.
I attend a support group (I highly recommend this for anyone going through this) for women with breast cancer with young children. Very specialized groups they have. It is extremely helpful. The other women have talked about how when they were finally finished and went to their last checkup with the oncologist/surgeon/radiologist they weren't sure what to do with themselves. You mean no more weekly appointments? No more poking and prodding? Who will I talk to if I don't go see the nurses every week? They say for a bit, their life feels empty--like they are missing something or forgetting something. I am sure I am going to experience that.
There is much more to say--but it will have to wait until tomorrow. I have an unhappy baby crying for me.
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