Round 5 Postponed

I was scheduled to begin Round 5 of chemotherapy treatment this week. Unfortunately, I picked up a cold on Sunday, currently with a sore throat, laryngitis and body aches. It won't be a good scenario, if it moves into my chest or I start having fevers. As it is, starting another round of chemo when I'm sick would be a recipe for disaster. I talked with my doctor and he has delayed Round 5 for a week. Bummer to be sick. Bummer to have to delay chemo.

My sister flew in from Indonesia to be with me this week while I was in chemo. She is scheduled to leave Sunday. Thus, she will be able to help me out while I'm sick, but I will need help next week while I'm in chemo. I guess the universe is going to force me to accept help from others, besides Dan or my sisters! That's not something I'm good at. If I get well in time for chemo next week I will need help, yes, that's right, need help-May 6 through 9 for sure. Picking me up and driving me to UW, keeping me company during chemo, bringing me home, pet chores, cooking meals, oh my gosh, the list goes on, basically taking care of me. If you're interested, please send me an email to my yahoo address. Please, please, realize this is incredibly hard for me to not only ask for help, but then to accept it. I need to know that I'm not inconviencing you, that I'm not adding to an already overscheduled day. Thanks for your sweet understanding.

The whispering Wildwood Diva

Twice is Too Much

I had an infusion yesterday of intravenous Immunoglobulin (IVIg). It's a collection of human antibodies from 3000 to 10,000 different people. Not the safest product to have being pumped into my body, nasty viruses can slip through the purification process, but IVIg has kept me alive the last 4 years. It helps my body fight off infections, since my immune system hasn't worked too well the last few years.

So, what are you looking at in the picture? It's the port in my chest which they now use to administer chemo, IVIg, anything that is going into my blood. The picture shows it accessed, meaning there is a big needle in it and it is covered with a bandage. The port is raised up about 1/4 to 1/2 inch under my skin. It is easily seen when it's not covered with a bandage. The dark line on the side is the scar from the surgery when they put the port under my skin. (see my blog Dec. 7, '07 for the port surgery story). The big "vein" running from the scar up my chest toward my neck is actually the plastic tubing under my skin. It goes into a vein by my neck and down towards my heart. The port is supposed to be easy to access. No problems, stick once, it's ready, unlike arm IVs which aren't always easy to hit. Well, yesterday, the nurse had to stick my port twice. Ugh. I had put topical lidocaine on it to numb it first, but I still feel the needle going through my chest. The needle must have been defective because the nurse could get blood flow out but couldn't put any liquid in. She messed around with the needle, moving it and trying to reposition it. She said, "I've never had this happen before". I don't know how many times I have heard medical professionals say that about different procedures, drugs, etc. involving me. I'm the anomaly. I wake up during surgery with general anesthesia, but that's another story. Finally, I told her to take the needle out and put another one in. After sticking me a second time, the port IV worked correctly. She said, "You were very brave." I thanked her but thought, "Do I really have a choice? Tell her "No, I'm not having a needle stuck in my chest twice, so I'll skip my lifesaving medicine?" Obviously, not.

I took the picture because over the next 1 1/2 hours my chest hurt. To put it mildly, it doesn't feel good to have a needle stuck into my chest. It doesn't help that my body really doesn't want the port because it has surrounded it with scar tissue making it really, really sensitive. Thus, with the nurse jostling it around, my chest felt bruised. To top it off, I could feel the saline drip going into my chest and it burned because it was cold. I took the picture to remind myself down the road what I went through, yet I did it, and I'm better as a result.

Nothing is Impossible

Like the title says, "Nothing is Impossible." Well, except living forever, but that's not what I'm thinking about. I'm thinking, "Why do we limit ourselves?" It's so easy to talk oneself out of something before even giving it a shot. That's the failure. Never even seeing what we're capable of. Well, in case you're wondering, I'm giving life my best shot.

This week I crossed a new bridge. The thought, "I have today. I have today to live. Not in 6 weeks when I'm done with chemo. Not in July when I have tons of tests run to see if the chemo worked. But yes, I have today". It dawned on me this week. Not that I haven't thought it many times before, but this time it really sunk in. I think I've done a pretty good job the last 7 years living with leukemia and making the most of my life not letting the disease control me. It has taken away many aspects of my life, but I have always adapted to the changes by making them my new normal. Somehow pulling out the Big Guns Chemotherapy, the drug combination that is supposed to be my best chance of buying some more time on this planet, has made me think about a whole series of black holes about the future. I was spending too much time thinking about, "What if....?" So, I crossed the bridge leaving the "What if's" behind. I will live today, making the most of today, because I have today. That is the lesson that leukemia taught me. I realized Regret looks behind living in the past at what "went wrong", Worry looks around wasting energy on what if's that may never happen, but Hope looks forward to making the most of the time we still have. I choose Hope.

So, one of the things I did to make the most of today was to spend the evening with a bunch of friends, celebrating a friend's 40th birthday, but first about 15 of us went for a run. I ran over 5 miles. It is the farthest I've run since my last marathon in November. Was the run easy? No. Did I feel good? No, I had abdominal pain the whole time and had no mojo in my legs. Did it make me happy to run? Yes. Did I think I could run over 5 miles before I started? No, but I took the first steps and told myself that I would run as far as I could and that I wanted to run the whole way. It's so amazing what we are capable of, if we only believe we can.

Burning bright,

Wildwood Diva

Four Down, Two To Go

Wow, Round 4 went quick! I started chemo on Tuesday at 4:30pm and finished up around 9:30pm, sleeping through most of it. Day 2 chemo didn't start until 2pm, so I was able to enjoy some of the warm sunshine that we had. I slept through the three hours of chemo on Thursday and came home to continue sleeping. So, I guess with all the sleeping and pounding my favorite cocktail (anti-emetic, that is) continuously, this round seemed pretty easy. With all the "beauty rest" I'm getting, I figure I'll look 25 when I'm finished with chemo! I feel the wobbliness in my legs and my body still wants to head to bed, but hey, I'll take those feelings over hugging the cold, white porcelain any day.

WooHoo! Only 2 more rounds to go!!!!!!!