Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Just a little Claustrophobic

How much difference a week can make. I am back on the patch, same dose as when I had freaked out. I seem to be doing better this time though. One thing, I had the radiation technicians cut eye holes in my mask. That has helped immensely! The medicine is getting into my system and I feel like I can swallow again. It still hurts, but I can do it.

Oh, I used the feeding tube! If I have it, might as well use it right? So Friday night, Alex helped me shotgun a beer through my feeding tube. Only 1 though, it went straight to my head. At least we christened it properly. I have used it for food, as intended, since then.

My hair is starting to fall out too. Not all over my head, but in the back of my head near my neck. The radiation goes all around my neck in a circle and this is completely expected. It was still weird this morning when I was washing my hair and it seemed like I had more hair in my hands than soap. I got a certificate today thanking me for my hair. Locks of Love received it; I'm so glad it is being used and not going to waste. Well I am going to take a short nap before the twins wake up. Dang! They are up. Oh well, guess I'll go to bed early. I have chemo tomorrow so it's probably a good idea any way.

Friday, May 14, 2010

I'm melting, melting!

Well both my doctors have urged me to go back on the patch. As much as I hated to do it, I broke down and put it back on. My throat feels like I'm swallowing knives and the Lortab elixir is no longer touching it. So I am back on the patch, still taking the Lortab elixir and added something called Magic Mouthwash. It is supposed to numb on contact. Between all of that I feel like it's butter knifes instead of butcher knives, so I guess that is an improvement.

It hurts to talk or swallow, so I'm drinking a lot of Ensure Plus. My taste is so off I can't even taste it. Popsicles are my friend. They feel so good. I hope the pain is due to the cancer cells dying. That is what I like to think anyway. I know it's due to the radiation and blah, blah, blah. All I can think is, "Die Bitch! DIE!!!" (The cancer, not me). I picture it as the wicked witch from The Wizard of Oz, "I'm melting, melting!"

I was talking with Alex the other night about the remote possibility this doesn't work. It's something we are both aware of, but it has to work. It will work. It IS WORKING! I just know it! I'm too much of a fighter. I'm going to kick this cancer in the butt! No way will it win.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Just wanting to say Thank You!

It's hard to believe it's been a month since my diagnosis. Each passing day has seemed like an eternity in itself. And at the same time, I blinked and a month has passed. Most of it is a blur and I'm not sure I would even have the details right. Some things I do know for sure. I know that this has been the darkest month of life. I have felt loneliness and despair like I have never felt before and I hope to never feel again. But I have also felt loved this month, like I have never felt before but will always feel.

It has been truly amazing. How do I even express, how much love I have received in prayers, and help, that much needed help. Everyone has a piece of me and are carrying me through this. You all have seen this is too much for one person to carry and have pitched in, unbelievably, without question. It is such a rare opportunity to see how much a person is loved, but I am seeing it and feeling it now. Thank you everyone.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010


I always thought I would be a fan of narcotics. If I got my hands on some good stuff, I would be a junkie. Maybe before all of this, I would have. I would've enjoyed the escape from life and could have been. Right now it feels more like it is robbing me of life. I'm here, but I'm not. I feel and I don't.

I have been on a pain patch for about 4 days, and have taken it off a few hours ago. I would rather feel the pain and be inside my head, than no pain and not know where I'm at. I am waiting for the last of it to clear my body.

Yesterday, while at radiation I almost didn't think I could make it through the session. I was strapped to the table as I always have been, but I lost my sense of time. I don't know if I laid there for 5 minutes or 30. I just had to breathe. Remember to breathe, they would let me out eventually. I'm breathing, but it's not working. Grab hold of the table, strain against the mask. I. Will. Breathe! Oh I have a tube in my mouth, breathe in and breathe out. Breathe through the tube. Deep relaxing breathes. I can do this. Finally the clicking starts. The treatment is beginning. If it starts, it must end. I'm almost through it. I can do this. Finally, they are letting me free. Free for one more day.

Narcotics are not for me.

Monday, May 3, 2010

A Help or a Hinderance?

I realize why I hate this feeding tube so damn much! It is a physical manifestation of what I am going through with the cancer treatments. It is a constant reminder that I have to fight this, this cancer inside my body. With radiation and chemo, I feel like those are the good guys. We are a team and fighting the side effects and healing me, but the tube is something... Something I endure, I feel, I have to deal with just sitting here as I type. I can't rock my babies the way I want to, I can't hold my husband the way I want to. I smell like a disgusting kitchen sink. It gets in the way of everything and it hurts.

I broke down in sobs this morning because I want to rip it out and just be over it. I know I can't, there is a really good chance that I will need this tube. This tube that I want to cut into a million pieces, may save me in a few short months. That's when I realized it's not the tube itself, it is the limitations it is putting on me. IT can't put limitations, it's just a thing. I am the one adding the limitations on. Hopefully this realization will zap it of it's power over me and I can look at it as one of the treatments that will help heal me, not hinder me. Maybe it's both and that is the best I can hope for.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

I hate this Feeding Tube!!!

I made it through yesterday, somehow. Most of the day went by in a foggy, nauseated way. I don't know how much of it was real or not. I at least feel like I am in my brain today.

The feeding tube has been the biggest pain in the butt so far. Yesterday I was at the point of wanting to rip it out myself. Alex talked me off the edge and I started taking Amoxycillian. The doctor wanted me to have it on hand just in case it started to get infected. I don't know that it is infected but it feels much better after about 3 or 4 doses. I feel like I could handle the nausea better if I didn't have a physical tube actually coming through my stomach. It's just pretty disgusting all around. It makes me lose my appetite. Oh, well.

I am so grateful for all the support everyone is giving me through this. I know we are just getting started with all the treatments and needing to ask for help but I am overwhelmed by every one's generosity all ready. Yvonne heard of a website to help get people together on stuff like this to help manage all the help. So we don't have 3 dinners showing up in one night and then none for a week. Part of what is weird is my taste keep changing. I know it's due to the radiation right ON my tongue. But it's odd that it can change within an hour. Like I was drinking a fresh bottle of water, and could have sworn it was Gatorade. Yesterday, sweet tea tasted like heaven and now it is bitter. Odd.

I think I need to go back and re-read the beginning of my blog. It started out as a therapy for dealing with Amy's strokes and the possibility I could lose her. Never did I think in 2 years, that it would be flipped on me, writing as therapy of facing my own mortality. I know I'm going to beat this. I feel it all the way as deep as I can feel it. But at the same time, you can't face something like this square on if you don't face all the scary possibilities of what might come.

Oh, by the way. Did I mention I hate this feeding tube?