A little earlier

I'm hoping that since I seem to be sinking into the basement a little earlier this week that I will climb out quicker too. I'm praying I am not getting Michael's cold, which would also make me feel yucky (and account for the earlier post-chemo symptoms).

I can't get sick on top of the depression. That would be just too much. And a cold would interfere with my trip to Myrtle Beach on Friday. So I'm going to rest a lot, sleep a lot and do a whole bunch of nothing with the hope my body responds favourably and fights off the cold.

But boy is it boring. Once again, I'm bored but don't feel like doing anything. I have no energy, stamina nor drive. Nothing appeals to me - not books, activities, food nor drinks. But I have to fill my days. I have to cope. It's not easy.

But, as usual, I will do the best I can. It's all I can do.

Tina

Chemo 2C

Well, my blood levels were good yesterday, in fact better than the previous week, and I got my chemo treatment in the afternoon. All went well. The port  and Emla cream worked like a charm with no pain upon needle insertion and I was off to the races.

Now I'm taking my anti-nausea medication and trying to enjoy the relatively good feelings I have on this Saturday. We have some errands to run and I've been in the hot tub. We're also going to see a local high school production of Oliver tonight because the neighbour's kid is the lead. I may have to have a coffee this afternoon to give me that extra boost of energy to get me through the evening, but it's an event to anticipate, which is good.

I'm feeling a little restless and antsy. I also feeling tired. A nap may also be in order - before the coffee, of course.

I talked to the chemo nurses and my Dr. W's nurse about my feelings of depression yesterday and they've suggested hospital social worker and spiritual worker referrals. I figure it can't hurt and these are discussions I can have when I'm in for chemo. Then I don't have to go into the cancer centre more often to take advantage of these services. I'm also tossing around other ideas in my head that may help me cope better. I will have to talk to Dr. W about them to see if they're possible.

For now, I'll see how the anti-depressants work. I've also received suggestions from friends about acupuncture and checking to see if I have a vitamin deficiency. I am grateful so many people are looking out for and care about me. Thank you.

So now I'm off to get those errands done so I can rest before the big night excursion.

Tina

Only last night

Last night around 8 p.m. I started to feel somewhat normal. Now that's my new normal, where my mind is engaged, my mood has (almost) fully climbed all the stairs from the darkness of the basement, I have more energy and I can eat a bit more. I'm still restless, tired and weak, but I'm better. And while it's not the that state I'm hoping to achieve as I get better, I think it's the best I can hope to expect right now.

When I get to this state, I feel like I can continue with the fight. I feel like maybe I can be brave enough to face the side effects again.

But it was only last night. I get chemo again today. I haven't had the good feelings long enough to build up my reserves and prepare for the onslaught again. Hopefully, I'll have good days today, tomorrow and at least part of Sunday where I can capture just a bit more of the strength. I'm keen to get more ninjas circulating through my system to kill the tumours, but I cringe at the idea of going through the yucky, mucky side effects again.

Speaking of ninjas, I got a new one from some good friends visiting from England this week. My blue ninja sits on my desk besides my stealthy black fighter, ready and willing to kick some cancer butt.

Above I added the caveat almost when talking about climbing out of the depressive basement. That's because I don't think I am fully able to do it on my own with all that's going on with my cancer, the treatment, the side effects. That's why my family doctor, when she heard me describe the feelings of of being pursued by dementors and having all happiness sucked from my life, prescribed an anti-depressant.

I've suspected I needed an anti-depressant for a while now, and mentioned it to Dr. W. He was reluctant because it's a full-time medication that I would be on for quite a while. But I really think I need it - and full time. The whole world, even on my good days, has lost some of its brightness and zest. I don't get super excited and squeal in my head in excitement about good things in my life anymore. I don't have the same interest in the simple joys I used to relish. The whole world has a steel blue film to it.

So I'm glad to be put on this anti-depressant. It will take a few weeks before I feel the full effects, but the pharmacist said I should be able to feel some of its mood-lifting properties in about a week - just in time for my trip to Myrtle Beach with my sister.

And maybe, the medication will help make the post-chemo depressive days a little less dark. Hopefully, these little white pills will help me cope so I can continue to follow the best route to make the cancer die.

If you can spare some good karma or are inclined to say a few prayers, please send a few words to the Big Guy about successful treatment today and strength for me to deal with the side effects coming next week.

Thanks.

Tina

So very weary

Muck.
Stuck.
Yuck.

I woke this morning feeling tired and lethargic. That reality makes me mad because this is supposed to be one of my good days. One of my few good days to enjoy.

Michael is sick. He has a sore throat and a nasty cough. Luckily, I seem to only have developed a slight sinus congestion, but still, it's dragging me down. Michael is extremely worried - to the point of being agitated - that his illness will drag down my white blood cells and prevent me from getting chemo tomorrow.

To be honest, I wouldn't be disappointed if I had to skip treatment tomorrow (and then have a treatment holiday the following week). That's a bad thing to say. It's a bad attitude. But it's honestly how I feel. I would like a break.

I shouldn't be feeling this way. I should want to continue getting the cancer-killing chemo and continue down the road to remission. But I'm tired. I'm so very, very weary of feeling awful most of the time. I'm tired of trying to gear myself up for yet another round side effects.

Then I feel guilty because I have to keep fighting for all I love, want and believe in. But I don't want to fight. I'm tired.

Your weary friend,
Tina

Trying to be patient

Probably more often than I should, I find I get impatient with myself. Today is one of those days. This is the day I'm scheduled to feel better, to improve and start to be able to enjoy life again. Yet, as my hands shook this morning while eating my Cheerios, I got frustrated. I want to feel and be better so bad, I get impatient when it doesn't automatically happen at the scheduled time and place.

Then I feel I'm disappointing the other people in my life who desperately want me to feel better and rejoin them. I lament when I'm still not strong enough nor cheery enough to take advantage of the "good" days. Maybe it's because there are so few of these so-called good days that when I'm not at my best during one of them, I feel cheated and I feel I'm robbing my loved ones because we count on them to get a semblance of "normal" Tina back and use the time to rebuild strength to go do it all over again.

Don't get me wrong, I do feel better today, as I usually do on Wednesday. It's not as if I feel awful this morning. As I sit here typing, the sun is shining in my office window and I feel the slight stirrings of a smile on my face. So the dementors are fading in the streams of the golden sunlight. I think these mythical dark creatures also started vacating my body as I went back into the warm waters of the hot tub this morning. It was the first time since the doc inserted my port almost two weeks ago. I figured the area had healed up enough to allow me to enjoy the therapeutic touch of the pulsating waters.

I'm cautiously optimistic the darkness has been swept away for another five or six days. I need these days to recharge my batteries, reconnect with my loved ones and gear up for the next round of cancer-kicking chemo on Friday.

Then I have a rest week, during which I'm heading south for my third-annual Myrtle Beach trip with my sister. While I'm a bit nervous about the jaunt and my stamina, I'm sure the change of scenery and relaxing time with my sister (without treatment) will be good for me.

So the goal for today is to once again try to focus on all the good things and be thankful the darkness is dimming. But I'm also going to try to be a little more patient with myself, so I don't get so frustrated when timing doesn't go exactly as planned. I have so little control on this roller coaster of a journey called cancer. I have to try to be more satisfied with the best I can do. Considering the situation and the fact my health seems to be improving, I'm not doing so bad.

Tina

The good, little things

It's Tuesday. The day I sink into the basement of depression and the blackness rolls over me. It's the day I get mired in the muck, with no tow rope in site.

But I'm trying to change my attitude slightly this week. I'm thankful because yesterday wasn't too bad. I kept myself busy with some computer work, reading, napping and television. With only approximately 24 hours or so to get through, I'm attempting to be positive this morning, saying I can make it without breaking down and allowing the darkness to pervade my spirit.

In the past, I've used the dementors from the Happy Potter films to describe how this state feels. They're the dark beings who suck the happiness from all those with whom they come into contact. Harry and the gang say the dementors make them feel as though they'll never be happy again. That's how the bleak, post-chemo day(s) feel to me. But I have to remember, they're short lived, then I'm through and I can face life with my (sometimes wavering) optimism again.

A friend recently wrote me an email about her strategies during some dark days - and ones I've used myself with some success - of focusing on the small, good, little things in life. I've even said in my blogs that if I focus on the good, I diminish the power of the bad. So I'm going to try to take that advice a little more to heart today and perhaps it will lessen the inky blackness and instead leave me with a less heavy, hazy grey where I can see the end of the tunnel and plod my way to it with determination and a (little) bit of patience.

So I sit here at my computer, thankful my mind can be creative enough to string thoughts together, sipping my coffee with the Cinnabon-flavoured creamer in it and planning some not-so-taxing activities for the day. Perhaps if I have some minor tasks, I can distract the dementors enough.

I'm also thinking about how thankful I am that my homecare nurse declared my wound healed enough to head back in the hot tub (although with the yucky snow/rain that is pelting the pavement right now, I'm not exactly keen on shedding my jammies for a bathing suit this morning). Most of all, I'm extremely grateful for all those friends in my village who sent words of support and love over the past few days in preparation for this round of post-chemo yuckiness. I love all your support and encouragement.

As the day progressess, I'll try to keep remembering the good things in my life and perhaps they'll be enough to produce a patronus (another Harry Potter reference) to shed light on those dementors and keep them far enough away their icy grip doesn't have a chance to invade my heart.

Then tomorrow is another day.

Here's hoping you don't encounter any dementors nor need your patronus today. Despite the cold and snow here in London (and whatever the weather is in your locale), I hope you find sunshine and light.

Tina

A brief update

For those who want/need it, here's the latest update:

The port worked like a dream. While there was some slight pressure and very minor discomfort when the needle was inserted, I think it is because the site isn't healed up entirely. The port has been placed in a pocket under my skin and I think it's that area that hurt (because it also hurts when I press on it now) and it wasn't the needle going through my skin. So the good news is the very expensive Emla cream does its job. It will be excellent moving forward as the site heals up.

I can also see/feel the tubing that runs from the port up into my major vein. Its prominence is decreasing and the chemo nurse said that over time, I won't even notice it. I guess the area hasn't healed entirely and the swelling will go down as it does.

My bloodwork came back good enough for the chemo (obviously) although my red blood cells and platlets are both dropping at a slow but steady pace. But as long as they stay in the acceptable range, I'm okay. I do know that lower red blood cells make me feel tired and weak, so I don't want them to drop too much. But I know Dr. W will keep a close eye on them to make sure I'm safely receiving my treatments.

I'm done two out of the three chemo treatments for this round. I feel tired, but overall okay today. I managed to have about half an hour of fun playing wii Fit this morning and I've been reading and relaxing. Yesterday, I had a few stomach pains but I'm attributing those to the ninjas fighting away in my abdomen. I notice my tastebuds aren't as active as they could be too, which is unfortunate since I have a lovely steak and baked potato planned for dinner.

But it could be worse and I know I'm heading to those days.

I'm not looking forward to the depression that I know is coming. I just have to work my way through it. It's ironic, when I'm in the depths of it, I feel the depression will never end and I can't cope. Then I get through it, get a couple of days away from it and I get the mental strength to face it again. I hope I can be stronger when I'm in it this time. I was a bit weepy during the last round.

Overall, between treatments, I'm feeling better. I haven't thrown up in over a week, I can eat, I'm having bowel movements almost daily. They're small victories, but ones I have to celebrate because maybe, just maybe, this means these weekly paclitaxel treatments are working to make the cancer shrink.

I can hope.

Tina