Polly wins round 2

So far, the after-effects from this Monday's chemo have been much, much better than the first time around. What a relief! I guess the anti-nausea pills they forgot to prescribe during round one really do the trick. While I occasionally feel a bit of nausea coming on, it's usually very brief. My puke pail has remained unused, although I keep it nearby just in case. No migraines, either. I'm still tired but not nearly as much as I was after the first round. I've actually been able to do some things around the house instead of curling up on the couch in a fetal position. I even took Lucy for her morning walk, enjoying the fresh air! Here's hoping the rest of my treatments go as well as this one has.

By the way, thank you for all your wonderful cards I've received since my journey has begun! I truly appreciate all the prayers and good wishes being sent my way. To my friend Deb - I love my strength rock. I keep it close to me.

Porcupine Polly

Ever wonder what is feels like to be a porcupine? I think I'm beginning to know, as my head is starting to feel slightly "porcupine-ish." My scalp is extremely sensitive; it kind of feels like tiny little quills are  embedded in my head. When I lay my head down, I feel my quills poking into the pillow, disturbing my ability to relax and go to sleep. When I'm outside and the wind blows my quills, it hurts! My doctor says  this sensitive scalp condition is a sign I'm getting ready to lose my hair. Frankly, I'm a little worried that my quills will suddenly start shooting out like darts, flying through the air and impaling whoever is standing nearby! So word to the wise - Don't stand too close.

Reunited with The Red Devil

Well folks, today was round two of the "red devil" chemo infusions. I'm cautiously optimistic that this one will go better than my first encounter two weeks ago. For starters, I was prescribed a new anti-nausea pill called Emend to take one hour before the treatment. Turns out I should have gotten this the first time. Nice, right? They also added Ativan to my IV, which is supposed to help with nausea, too. It also put me in a very relaxed state, which I'm still feeling. Verging on loopy. That's fine with me, but I probably shouldn't be writing on my blog right now...

I will tell you that an older, very frail woman sat down next to me to have her blood drawn. I thought my alien really stuck out of my skin—her alien was hopped up on steroids. It was enormous! I actually got a little queasy looking at it. Her alien was also very angry because she winced with pain when they put the needle in it. Seeing that made me grateful my alien isn't as big and mean as hers!

Ignorance is bliss

Sometimes it’s just better to bury my head in the sand. I’ve learned from having MS that health information can sometimes be more frightening than it is helpful. So I rarely spend time reading about MS. Well, tonight I was browsing through a magazine called WOMEN that my pals at the wig shop had given me. OMG! It contained an article by a woman who, like me, was diagnosed with triple-negative breast cancer. In the third paragraph she describes this form of cancer as “a very aggressive type with a high risk of recurrence and a poor overall survival rate.” S**T! Then I read the insert by an oncologist who wrote that even when this cancer responds to chemotherapy, “the response is often short lived.” Double S**T! (There were actually some more expletives but I won’t include them here). I knew my cancer is aggressive, but I didn’t know it has such a bad reputation. That’s why I’m better off not educating myself. My PEOPLE magazines are much more fun and interesting to read than stupid cancer mags.

In other news, I had a slight accident with a buzz saw today, and lopped off all of my hair! Just kidding. I went to my hairdresser and made the plunge from long hair to super short hair. This way when my hair starts to fall out (probably this week or next), it won’t be quite as noticeable. And hopefully, having short hair will make the transition a little easier when I have to get the rest shaved off.

Polly paints

Over the last several years, I've had lots of free time to take up a new hobby - painting! I was very inspired to try it by my father, who starting painting when he retired, and my grandmother, who has been a professional oil landscape painter for many, many years. 

Just thought I’d share a few of my better paintings. Please try not to judge them too harshly as I’m still a beginner, but it’s a fun hobby to have.

On a different note, I have to give a big shout out to my hubby, Mr. Pincushion, as he gave the public presentation of his dissertation today! He did a fantastic job…BRAVO!

No Debbie Downers, please!

It’s funny how much you depend on other people to help when you’re sick, but sometimes the help is not the kind you need or want. Consider how people react to a loved one’s illness. Sure, when a person finds out they have cancer, like moi, they’re obviously going to be scared and sad. In fact, there are stages that you go through, like: 1) Shock & disbelief, 2) Anger, and why me?, and 3) Acceptance. I have gone through all of these stages at least once and probably will go through them again as time goes along. There’s also a “divide & conquer” phase. This is the time when you’ve accepted the news, you have a plan in place for how to attack it, and as hard as it’s going to be, you just want to get started. To get through this, I’m trying to find the humor in my situation whenever I can. When you’re already blessed with MS, learning you have breast cancer is as absurd as it gets!

So here’s the problem: Some people haven’t figured out that I’m trying to poke fun at my circumstances, even after reading my blog. For example, when I’m feeling sick to my stomach, suffering from a migraine, body aches, fever, hot & cold flashes and whatever else chemo throws my way, it doesn’t really help to have a Debbie Downer tell me how dreadful it is that I’m sick, and how sorry they are for me. Trust me—I don’t need anyone to remind me how bad I feel, or tell me that they’re taking the news worse than me.

Then there are the well-meaning emails rife with suggestions and recommendations. Hey, I am 40 years old, and I’ve been through two major medical diagnoses. If there’s anyone with experience researching doctors and treatments, it’s me! There may be times when I need some advice or help with some research. Trust me, when I do, I’ll ask for it.

Please understand. I don’t intend to come across as mean or ungrateful. It’s hard to hear that a friend or family member has been dealt a low blow. People often don’t know what to say, or how to help, making them feel helpless. But I’m trying my very best to remain positive, and to poke fun at what‘s obviously an ugly situation. The best thing friends and family can do for me is to be supportive, listen to me bitch & moan when I’m feeling really down, refrain from making obvious suggestions, and help me find humor in all of this CRAP! Yummy food is a wonderful and much appreciated gesture, too (thanks, Catherine!). Of course, there will be times when the sight & smell of food might make me want to stick my head in the toilet so don’t take it personally! And please do not be afraid to call me. I love hearing from all of you! In fact, ever since I started the blog, the phone has been at times, a little too quiet. If I’m feeling rotten or super tired, I just won’t pick up. It may take me a little while, but I’ll get back to you. Just NO “doom and gloom” voice mails or emails!

Pillapalooza

Between my meds for MS and my meds for BC, I feel like I could start a pharmacy. I have white, pink, blue, brown, yellow and green pills. You should see how many pill bottles I have collected. In most kitchens, when you open up the breadbox you expect to find bread of some variety. In our house, if you open the breadbox, you’d find it full of pill bottles. And you’d find more in the pantry, and on the wooden tray on our dining room table. Oh yeah, there’s a few more in my purse, too. I need some better way to organize all of my medicine so that when I’m hugging the toilet bowl, I can yell at my husband “Get me my puke pill NOW!” and he’ll know exactly where to find it. Because now it takes him like 15 minutes just to read through all of the labels.

Speaking of nausea, when will it go away?? It’s been five days since my first chemo and it still comes and goes. Today, I ate some ice cream thinking it would help but the soothing effect lasted only a half hour before the nausea came back. Ugh!

Slowly recovering...

OK, now I truly know why people call that chemo drug the red devil. Yesterday was a pretty horrendous day. I started off by vomiting as soon as I woke up. The rest of the day was accompanied by unrelenting fatigue, cold and hot flashes, constant nausea, and at the end, a nasty migraine. I could barely get up off the couch to use the bathroom, and had to keep a small garbage can close at hand. Today I was finally able to get dressed into real clothes and water some of my flowerpots without feeling like I was going to hurl at any minute. I was also able to eat more than just broth and canned peaches, and the nausea wasn’t constant like it had been.

This past Tuesday I drove myself to a restaurant to meet with some of the Pink Cowgirls. This is a local support group of women who are either currently going through cancer treatment or have already completed their treatment. I thought it would be easy to pick them out because they’d be the only table full of baldies. But only one lady was bald; all the others had beautiful long hair. It was nice to talk with women who have been through treatment. I actually might end up making a couple of well-needed female friends by having cancer! I’ve noticed that in general there are so many more resources for people with breast cancer than there are for people with MS. The day I was diagnosed I was given a tote bag with an organizational planner and a file folder filled with good information, a pillow, and some green tea bags. I’ve also learned about free massages, free silk scarves, free Henna tattoos, and free prepared meals, all available for women being treated for BC. All I got with my MS diagnosis were free pens advertising the different drugs used to treat it. Yeah, MS gets the shaft.

yuck

Polly Pincushion now knows why they called that chemo drug the "red devil." I'm carrying a small trash can with me wherever I go in case my urge to hurl turns into a real situation. I can barely even get down a bowl of my beloved cereal.

I will return to my regular updates when I feel better. Bye for now...

Meeting the Red Devil

It’s 11:00am Monday morning, and as I lie here typing in my comfy recliner in the infusion room at Texas Oncology, the “red devil” is flowing into my veins. It’s actually a chemo drug called Adriamycin. Indeed, it’s bright red, and I was told that my pee would be too. I guess I’ll find out soon enough why they call it the devil.

I arrived here at 8:30am to get my blood drawn. They will do this before each treatment to make sure my white and red blood cell counts are in the normal range. Afterwards I met briefly with my oncologist to go over the treatment plan and any questions I had.

Next, it was on to the chemotherapy infusion room. While I waited for the Lidocaine cream to numb my bulging alien (the port catheter), a very nice nurse named Berta went over the possible side effects of the treatments. Among these are severe diarrhea, constipation, painful mouth sores, fingernails that won’t grow, nausea and vomiting, fatigue, nervous system changes, anemia, and bleeding. And of course, the inevitable loss of my nice thick hair! But wait, there’s more! There are also the side effects associated with a shot I’ll be getting tomorrow to help regenerate my white blood cells. The most common complaint is bone and joint pain that can range from mild to “holy s**t this hurts!!”

After hearing about all that scary stuff, the chemo was slowly pushed into my line. At that moment the tears welled up. It really hit me: Wow, I have CANCER, and a long journey ahead of me. I just pray that I don’t get all of those terrible side effects. My track record hasn’t been great; I seem to always get the side effects…. On the bright side, all of the chemo kids have been nice enough and the teachers (nurses) have been friendly (if you’re confused read the previous entry).

Yay, the nurse just came by to tell me “only 20 minutes to go.”

An alien on my collarbone

I had a small alien implanted on my collarbone last Thursday. It’s actually a “port catheter,” a heart shaped disc that visibly protrudes from under my skin.

The port allows the nurses to connect the chemotherapy IV quickly and easily, rather than having to hunt for a good vein each time I go in for an infusion. Unfortunately, the darn thing hurts. It feels like there is a needle embedded on my collarbone that keeps stabbing and poking me when I move my arms in certain ways. The port also sits right above the neckline of my shirts, so everyone can see my alien bulge.

Today is the big day—my first chemotherapy treatment! It feels like my first day at a new school. What will happen? Where do I go? Will the older and more experienced kids like me? Will the teachers (a.k.a. the nurses) be mean or nice?

Stay tuned; I plan to write my next entry while the chemo cocktail is flowing into my veins. Let the party begin!

Polly gets PETted

I had another lovely medical experience this past Wednesday afternoon: a PET scan. This is a full body scan; the doctors ordered it to determine if there was any cancer beyond what they already knew about.

I was instructed not to eat carbs, fruit or anything with sugar beginning on Tuesday evening. For me, abstaining from carbs is like abstaining from breathing. I’ve had a bowl of cereal for breakfast (and other meals, too) almost everyday of my life! And I don’t do well fasting, which I had to after my light, crappy breakfast Wednesday morning. When I don’t eat I get really cranky and usually develop a terrible migraine. The PET scan was scheduled for 2:30pm, so by the time I got to the office I was dying of hunger.

The first thing they had me do was drink two large glasses of this disgusting white stuff called barium. For any of you who have had a PET scan, colonoscopy, or similar tests, you know all about this yummy concoction. I was actually so hungry that the first half went down fairly easily. I plugged my nose for the rest of it.

Next they started an IV, and I was brought into a small, dark and very warm room with a recliner. A technician inserted “radioactive glucose”—really—into my IV and told me I should relax and try not to move much for 45 minutes. No problems there; I fell asleep (probably from low blood sugar due to the fasting). Next was the scan. The PET scanner looks suspiciously like an MRI, where I’ve spent a lot of time over the last eight years. After drinking one more glass of good ol’ barium, I was told to lay down with my arms held over my head and stay motionless for a half hour. After about 15 minutes, my arms & hands were totally asleep and my comfort level was rapidly decreasing. To top it off, I had an itch on my thigh that I wanted to scratch so badly. It was all I could think about. Finally it was over. I raced home and ate the best bowl of cereal I’ve had in a long time.

A day later I finally got some overdue good news. The PET scan results showed that other than the already-known lumps in my bumps I do not have any other cancer lurking around! And on top of that, I learned the results of the genetic testing were NEGATIVE for both the BRCA1 & BRCA2 genes. This was great news; it means I do not carry the gene that would put me at a much higher risk of developing breast cancer in my other breast, or ovarian cancer. If I was BRCA positive I would probably be encouraged to have a double mastectomy after chemo. Now I’m wondering how one small but real boob would look next to the DD upgrade I’ve been thinking about.

Getting wiggy

I never knew how fun wig shopping could be! That is, until my sister and I went wig shopping last weekend. I’ve been dreading the inevitable hair loss that I was told would happen within 2-3 weeks of starting chemo. I mean, let’s face it; hair is a huge deal to women. It’s part of our identity. Not that I have anything against baldness. In fact, I happen to be married to a wonderful (and handsome) bald guy. 

I’ve heard through the cancer grapevine that it’s best to get your wig before you actually start to lose your hair. So this past Saturday, my sister and I set out bright and early on our mission to find the perfect “cranial prosthesis.” Our first stop turned out to be our only stop, an amazing salon called Top This. As soon as we walked in we were greeted by two of the friendliest and funniest people I’ve ever met, Ronn and Bonnie. They were both so caring and knowledgeable about cancer, and they made my sister and I feel right at home. It turns out Ronn moved to Austin from the same area of California where I grew up. We commiserated about the Austin heat, and the rampant mosquitoes, flying cockroaches and other bizarre bugs that inhabit this part of Texas. We also got busy trying on wigs and learning about the differences between human hair and synthetic hair. In no time at all, we picked out a great wig that’s almost the same color and cut as my real hair. (For those who knew me in my teenage years: No, I did not revert back to bright fuchsia).

My sister even tried on some wigs. We found a new hair color that would look fabulous on her, but I’m not sure she’s ready to make the switch. While we were eating some of Ronn’s very yummy 7-Up cake, I met a very nice woman who is currently going through chemotherapy. She had a beautiful henna tattoo covering her head and her hand. She shared her experiences and made me feel better about the chemo.

I left the shop in great spirits, and with a couple of wonderful new friends. An experience I had been dreading turned out to be a blast, and a great bonding experience with my sister.

Here's a few pics from our day at Top This: 

 Kim goes straight. (That's my real hair. For now.)

Me as a blonde bombshell. Note the realistic roots. Anyway, fun to try on, but I'm not taking this one home.

My new best friend Ronn. And no, I'm DEFINITELY not taking this one home.

 

The winner! This one I did take home.  

Here’s how this story begins

On 3/22/11 I was shaving my armpits when I felt a large bump.  The day before, I didn’t feel anything.  I promptly called my gynecologist, who had me come in the next day. She did a breast exam and felt a couple of lumps, but said they were probably just fibroids, and nothing to worry about. She arranged for me to see a radiologist on 3/25 for a mammogram (my first one) and ultrasound. Unfortunately, the radiologist told me the tests revealed several “suspicious masses” and she would need to take biopsies.  She was very serious when she told me she had seen enough cases to feel pretty certain they were the dreaded CANCER. 

I was completely shocked. Never in a million years did I think I would have cancer, especially with everything I’ve already been through (diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 2003). 

On 3/28/11, I got the results of the biopsies…breast cancer.  The next day my husband and I met with a breast surgeon who went over the pathology reports.  I learned that I have cancer in my left breast and also my left lymph nodes. Treatment would be the full spectrum: chemotherapy first, then surgery, followed by radiation.   She also took a sample of my saliva to be tested for the BRCA I & 2 (genetic cancer genes). We’re still waiting on those results.

On 3/31/11, we met with an oncologist and went over the details of my cancer and treatment.  We learned I have "triple negative stage III breast cancer." Of course, that's an aggressive form, because when I do something, I really go all out!  Treatment should start right away.  But first more tests and procedures in preparation for chemo, including an echocardiogram, breast MRI, PET scan, etc., etc., etc. Let the fun begin!