Chemo: Cycle 2 starts & hair falls

Day 1 - chemo day is today. I wake up in a fowl mood because I was laying in bed most of the night worrying about the chemo. I’m putting a lot of faith in the Ranitidine prescription that my oncologist gave me for my stomach upset. What if it doesn’t work? I hate the way my stomach felt the first 10-11 days.

Husband picks me up to take me for chemo and I start to cry as soon as I get in the truck. Being the wonderful man he is, he asks what’s wrong. I sound like a little kid when I tell him “I don’t want to get chemo anymore!” and start to snot & tear up. It’s hard for him to know what to say even though we’ve been through this before and we’ve had cancer in our life for almost ten years. I tell him I feel like I need a good cry and I want to get it all out before I get to the cancer centre. So, I cry. I cry for the first several minutes of the drive and at some point it stops. I hope it’s out of my system and won’t “lose it” at the cancer centre. It’s unusual for me to feel sad about going there because it’s like my second home. I know so many employees and they are all exceptional health care professionals who REALLY care about their patients.

Because I need bloodwork done to make sure my counts are good enough to proceed, I send husband back to work until the results are in. He has faith that Phlebotomy will be on-time and he’ll be back ten minutes before my chemo is scheduled to start. I think he’s wasting his time. That NEVER happens. Turns out he’s right. I’m called into a room ten minutes before my scheduled time and call to let him know. He’s already on his way because his plan worked.

I had some pain last time at my port, and after my infusion at the hospital last week, some of the Heparin flush oozed out and went interstitial (into the skin/tissue) so I had red slightly inflamed skin around the port for a day or two. I’ve had my port for almost ten years and they say the life-span of them is 1,000 pokes. How many times have I been poked in my cancer journey??! I realize that question can be taken the wrong way so let me clarify that I wonder how many times my port has been poked Through trial and error with the experience the chemo nurses have, we’ve discovered that even though my port takes a half inch needle, a three quarter inch needle seems to work better every once in awhile. I ask the nurse to put in a 3/4 and she gets it on the first poke. We’re off and running on saline.

Minutes later, my pre-med anti-nausea drugs show up in their little mini bag. There are two of them mixed together: Ondansetron and Dexamethasone. Twelve minutes later, the nausea meds are done and we’re hooking up for the 7 minute Epirubicin infusion. I stare at the I.V. tubing as the red fluid goes into me. I’m then set on the rinse cycle (I like to use washing machine lingo for my I.V.’s) to get some more saline flushed through me. I’m eventually set free and we head straight to the drug store to pick up even more prescriptions before returning home and before husband goes back to work.

I go to Walmart in the evening to stock up on Ensure and the Walmart brand that is similar and MUCH cheaper. Ensure is on sale for 9 bucks this week at Walmart, but their own brand is only 8. I get two of each because there are only 2 of their name brand left.  I use the High Protein version because I don’t eat much meat and because I’m not eating as much peanut butter as I usually do. I take the opportunity to get a few groceries while I’m there and after a talk I had with one of the pharmacists I buy a massive pill reminder. I have a 7 day one, but found with all the extra pills I need to take for nausea at home after chemo I was forgetting my OTHER pills. I shell out ten bucks for a reminder that has 4 segments per day. Now I feel even more like an 80 year old because of the size of my pill reminder but hope it will help. At least each day pops out so I don’t have to carry the entire thing with me!

I’m on a steroid-induced high all night because of the anti-nausea drugs (they are steroids) and fire off emails left and right all night to Glenda, the coordinator of my golf tournament. I also send out emails to every police officer or person who may KNOW a police officer because our Million Dollar Hole-in-One Contest requires we have a police officer as a witness. I go straight to a City Police Inspector, who I met when we were both honoured at the Mayor’s Prayer Breakfast last year. She immediately responds even though she’s on holidays and says she will find me a volunteer. I cancel all my other requests with even more emails.

By 2 in the morning my eyes are extremely tired but the body is still going strong because of the Dexamethasone.  As I’m getting ready for sleepy-time I discover my hair is really coming out now. I go to bed and read, hoping to fall asleep but am awake til after 5am.

Day 2 - I’m awake at 9am to take my first round of pills. Some have to be taken 30 minutes before I eat so I set my alarm, take the pills and wake up to another alarm 30 minutes later to eat half a banana while laying in bed, take more pills after eating and then roll over to attempt to go back to sleep. We’ve arranged in advance that I’m pre-taping an interview about my health and the upcoming golf tournament on C95 this morning. Rob, Shauna and Rambling Dave call at 9:07, we chat for a few minutes to make sure I’m awake and then start recording. We mostly talk about my cancer progressing and I plug the fact that we need more golfers and want to sell out the tournament.  The interview will likely run within the next day or two.  Normally it’s easy for me to go right back to sleep, but because of the D.D. (damn Dexa) I lay there awake listening to John Gormley Live and finally just give up and get out of bed at 11:15. Time for more pills and cereal half an hour later.

I once again spend a lot of time replying to emails, including proofs for our volunteer shirts for the LRGC and other little details and then need to run out for a quick 1 item grocery trip (how could I have forgotten MILK??!!). On the way home I decide I deserve a chocolate milk shake so I hit the McD’s drive thru and get 2 Shrek Donkey glasses with my shake. They are going fast and are the last ones. I kick myself that I didn’t collect the others when I see the glasses. They are nice heavy glasses. I recall the ones we had years ago at mom and dad’s with Hamburgler and the other McDonald’s “mascots” we had when I was a kid.

Husband comes home from work and we build a Dinner Rush meal of South Asian Beef & Onions together. So much easier when there’s two of us to make supper. I have no ambition.

My hair is REALLY coming out today and my head is itchy. As I type even more emails I scratch my head and each time pull out a handful of hair. I decide to create some more “hair art” and start saving it in a pile on a Kleenex beside me. Might sound gross, but I was trying to gauge exactly how much hair I was losing and if I should be buzzing it off. I take a picture of my hair on the Kleenex so I can show you (you can thank me later) how much is coming out now. Toonses the Driving Cat is trying to smell the hair while I’m taking pictures and he makes it difficult for me to get a clear shot, but I finally get it. Here’s how much hair I pulled out of my head in just a couple hours this afternoon:

Husband and I watch some TV on the PVR in the evening and I notice on a bathroom break that my nose is red just like it was last cycle at this time. That means tomorrow my face should be red too. I’m starting to see a pattern. The pattern IS broken in one respect though. The Ranitidine REALLY WORKS on my stomach. No pain, no yikky burps. Sweet relief!

Day 3 - Once again because of the Dexamethasone I am awake until after 5am, but today I’m able to go back to sleep after my half banana breakfast at 10am. I eventually force myself out of bed after the cat walks over top of me numerous times and scratches at the covers. If HE thinks I should get my arse out of bed, then I guess I better do it.  It is 1:30pm and I take my 2 pills and pace for half an hour before I can have anything to eat. I’m starving so I drink some strawberry-kiwi fruit juice (tastes like booze!!) to hold me over until I can shovel my cereal and fresh blueberries in with record speed. I watch Oprah and cry as I watch reunions between birth parents and their children who were given up for adoption. I watched all the episodes of Find My Family this year and found these stories to be very similar and just as emotional. As I watch I’m firing out even more emails. My hands are starting to hurt. I’ve been typing way too much on this Dexa high.

Many people heard my interview on C95 this morning. Several Hole Sponsorships come in because of it, and we get more entries. As of this writing we had room for FIVE more teams…that’s only 20 more people and we’ll be sold out! Thank you - everyone. I can’t possibly reply to all the emails so forgive me if I don’t reply to you. You can rest assured I DO read every single one and appreciate them so much.

An email comes in from Tasha in Calgary. We were in the TellHer2 documentary that Rethink Breast Cancer commissioned last year (www.tellher2.com, click on “The Documentary” and then click on my face).  Her husband Ryan passed away 6 weeks ago after battling brain cancer. He was diagnosed 12 years ago when he was a professional pilot. The cancer stole his passion of flying from him but he never lost his passion for life and living in the moment. He blogged about it and was a shining example of how to live your life - even when you’re dying. Before his passing Ryan wrote a book called “Stop, Drop and Smile!”.  The email announces that the book is ready for order, the website is up and running. I click on the direct link and see the most beautiful website EVER. Inspirational quotes beside gorgeous pictures of perfection of Tasha, Ryan and their now 5 year old son Talyn. Even though I’ve seen the photos before, the quotes beside them just add that special touch. I find myself near tears as they flash across the screen. Ryan had the most beautiful big smile. You couldn’t help but love him even if you never met him. I order two books - one for me and one for the Cancer Centre’s Patient Resource Centre that I will donate. I know that “Stop, Drop and Smile!” will give me inspiration and the kick in the pants I will need on “down” days. I then read the last 2 blog postings by Tasha and start to sob. I was feeling so sorry for myself and after reading what she is going through I feel like a useless knob. I have no reason to be so sad about my own situation. The questions and things her little boy is saying break my heart and make me bawl even more. I can’t even begin to imagine how she can answer some of his difficult questions or explain why it’s not possible to bring daddy back home. http://tashaengel.blogspot.com/ Read for yourself and you won’t feel so bad about your own life, yet you’ll be inspired by the courage and passion for life that Ryan had and how Tasha is doing the best she can to cope with this new, unwanted life change. I write her an email while I’m crying and later hope it made sense. That D.D. is turning me into an email monster.

I make a quick trip with the truck to run an errand and decide yet again that I must have another McD’s chocolate milk shake. This could be the start of Dexamethasone-induced cravings. The first time I was in chemo in 2000, I had a craving for Taco Time EVERY single time I had chemo. I NEEDED a soft taco and mexi-fries. Every week after chemo we’d head to Taco Time. Then, with no explanation the craving was for a Big Mac. Needless to say I did not lose any weight on chemo! It’s one of my biggest worries this time around. I lost 40 pounds in 2007 and I want to keep it off. Might sound trivial when I’m fighting stage 4 breast cancer but it’s ONE thing I hope I can have some control over. I tell myself as I sit in the drive through line that their milkshakes aren’t really that bad for you. I order a medium instead of a large (which is what I had yesterday) and decide to order the husband a McFlurry. Then the Filet-o-Fish calls my name so I order it too. I take my 2 pre-meal pills while in the line to pay. I know I can nuke it in the microwave at home in half an hour and it will be just like it’s fresh. I get home and the smell of the Filet-o-Fish is calling my name. I pick weeds in the driveway and then kill some time in the house before warming it up in the microwave. 45 seconds is way too long, it’s too hot and I must wait another ten minutes before I can eat it. GRRRRR!!! :(  Husband comes home with goodies (great minds think alike) of chocolate bars for after supper. It’s a feastival! Milkshake, McFlurry and chocolate bars (Caramilk for me). D.D. is at it again!! I realize I must do what I did last time and go straight to the fresh fruit salad I’ve slaved over instead of this kind of stuff or I’ll be a very unhappy girl at the end of chemo. I save the Caramilk and will enjoy it later. I have SOME willpower left…I think.

I announce to husband at 8:30pm that he is shaving my head tonight. He wonders if I’m sure and I tell him that I can’t take it anymore. Every time I’m in the washroom to brush my teeth, tons of hair is left laying on the counter and in the sink. The hood of my hoodie is full, the back of my clean fleece is matted with my own hair and it won’t even shake off. Here’s the “before” picture:

I want it shaved off before I can change my mind so I dig out a sheet as he sets up the clippers and chair in the kitchen. Suddenly our roles are reversed. I’ve buzzed his head a couple of times and now it’s his turn to have a go at me. I ask him not to get even with me over the time I cut his ear with the scissors while trimming his ear hairs. He is gentle and finds the cutting easier once he’s created a “path” to follow. He does half my head and then takes some pictures.

 We video tape the entire head shaving, and he takes pictures at different stages along the way. He REALLY amuses himself by giving me a “Friar Tuck” look when he starts working on the other side of my head and stops to take more pictures while giggling the entire time. I can’t help but smile. I’m not crying, and he is doing the best he can to make the situation easier. It works. I wonder aloud why I’m not crying. I likely would if I was shaving it off myself but he has taken that pain away from me by offering to free me from my hair even though I don’t want to lose it. I take pictures of the hair on the floor and in the garbage can and say goodbye to it. Husband is smart because he immmediately packs up the garbage and takes it out so I won’t be reminded when going to put something in the kitchen garbage. How can you not love someone like that? I love him more than ever for doing a simple thing like that.

I shake off the sheet outside, then head straight for the shower to get rid of all the little bits of hair. My head feels like velcro as I try to shampoo the bristles of hair that are left. I decide I’ve grown my armpit hair long enough and shave my pits. I’m amazed at how I look like the hairy-pitted girls from Survivor after less than a month of not shaving. I instinctively reach up to squeeze the water out of my hair and when my hands get halfway there I remember I have no hair to wring out. How long will I do this simply out of habit?!

After shower I get into my sleeping clothes and take some photos of my shaved head to send to my parents and my brother’s family. I want my nieces to see me without hair before they see me in person so they aren’t shocked. I look like my brother with my head shaved and they think it’s funny. Only problem is that I have three round holes/dents in my forehead from where the halo was. I was in a halo for three months when I was first diagnosed because my neck collapsed from the cancer eating away my C5 vertebra, hence the holes in my forehead. Now you can even see the holes behind my ears, and a bump that I suspect is a bony met on my skull.

I upload all the photos to my computer and see why husband was entertained by the Friar Tuck. I watch the video and wonder why it is that I was not upset?! WTF? It doesn’t make sense. I thought maybe it would hit me when I looked in the mirror but I was ok. I still am. I still have my eyebrows and eyelashes (for now) so tomorrow I may put on some makeup and see how I look. Maybe I’ll look better than I thought possible. Next on the agenda is to get in to see my hair dresser to get the bangs of my wigs trimmed.

I decide to keep going with my computer crazy couple of days and upload some of the head shaving photos to my Facebook page. For some reason none of them will upload. I take it as an omen that they should be posted on my blog first and start to write this. It’s 5:04am and I’m still on a Dexa high as I finish this. You get the first look at me with no hair….and no makeup. Now I REALLY look like I have cancer…