Five Days

In five days I will be done. 

Is it me, or does it seem like time goes a little faster when I skip a couple weeks in between these updates?  It must to some, because I’ve heard over and over from people I talk to…

“You’ve had how many treatments?  Already???”

Twenty-five of thirty, as of this past week.

A double amen to that.

A lot has happened in these two weeks.  Right after I posted my last update, when I was at the halfway point, the very next day, this:

The hair decided to leave. It had had enough.

I knew I’d lose my hair.  Well, sort of.  Dr. Smith said, “It might thin.”  I think what I’ve learned is most medical professionals don’t like to go off the deep end with all the negative details.  Even when they know WE know the outcomes given the experiences of family, friends who’ve been here and dealing with all of it long before.  Still, they sort of ease you into it all.  I now understand I will lose it all eventually but because beyond the “it might thin,” statement, nothing more was ever said until I inquired when I got the “pumpkin” this past week.

“Um, so, I’ve lost about half, will this next chemo round take care of the rest?”

Dr. Smith nodded, slowly.  “Yes.”

About two to three weeks from now, the last hairs holding on for dear life will bail and I will officially “look” like I have cancer.  I told Blaine, “Well, I reckon if I’m gonna have it, I might as well look it.”  So what did I do?  I bought…headcovers!  Are you kidding me?  Have you SEEN what they have?  Ladies, check them out, you might even want some for yourself.

I’ve already talked about all the other side effects I was having and continue to have, so, no need to trot down that path again.  Let’s just say, eating remains a challenge, but every now and then, I get a random thought of something I think I can manage.  The latest was this:

The Best Ever Vegetable Soup

This cup of absolutely delicious soup comes from Sherry’s Bakery.  You folks from Dunn reading this, know what I’m talking about.  I’ve had Blaine make several trips to get me a bowl, and wow, in that moment, I know it’s just what I needed and wanted.  But, lets face it, I can’t stand the sight of it at the moment.

I was also able to eat, of all things, this:

Okra! Okay, it’s a southern thing.

I know.  I know.  A lot of you – even on GOOD days – can’t eat this vegetable, but I can and do, and did.  Boiled.  With salt.  And it was good.   Was being the operative word.

Even though times have been difficult, as you know around one week ago I was dreading the week of…the pump.  Yes, when I thought about it, I turned just about the color of that pot of okra.  Funny thing.  When I went to Duke Cancer Center on Macon Pond Road in Raleigh and got “Pumpkin” back, that was one of my best days in a long time.

The Infusion area at Duke Cancer Center clinic. Little Dog is right out there, waiting on us in the truck.

 

What made it even more amazing was I’d had a pretty bad day on Sunday.  Severe abdominal cramping (from radiation) that was quite debilitating.

As far as the rest of the week?  Well, I made it.  I don’t ever want a repeat, I can assure you.  When I went back yesterday to get unhooked, it was without a doubt the best day and the worst day since I started.  The worst part was I’d been getting sick most of the week and the worst was Friday, and let me tell you what.  That’s all I had to say when I drifted through the doors of the Infusion Area, here at the the lovely Macon Pond Road Duke Cancer Clinic.

“Do you need fluids?”

“Yes, and I’m feeling pretty sick.  I haven’t been able to eat much this week.”

“Well, Dr. Smith is still here, let me speak to him and we’ll get you fixed up, and fixed up they did.  One liter of fluid and THREE anti-nausea medications later…

Angel Nurse accessing port. Hurry. Hurry.

Phew, within minutes, I was feeling much better.

By the time the nurses got me hooked up and the fluids were dripping in at top speed, the pumpkin?  Finished her cycle.  Woohoo!  I got to ring a bell in celebration of my last chemo treatment!  Giddy just about says it all.

Oh yes. We’re very happy!

But…enough about me.

I continue to receive the most wonderful mail.  Even hearing the mail truck has become as exciting for me as it is for Little Dog.  The cards, letters, and not to forget all of the online connections via FB, Twitter, and emails have certainly been uplifting.

Then, this past Sunday, a dear friend dropped this off:

Warm and snuggly!

Don’t get too interested.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Lisa Fitchett from the bottom of my heart for this beautiful, warm blanket you made.  It did the job with that little cool front we had, and with the chills the chemo seems to bring on, it was perfect timing.  As you can see, the Bundle also approves!

I also captured some pictures of the radiation treatment room and the lovely caring nurses so you can see where I’ve gone each day, leaving the house promptly at 10:00 a.m. for the 10:45 appointments.

Two of the AWESOME nurses who’ve taken me through the radiation treatments. I’m sure there are wings under those blue smocks.

The Machine. It’s amazing really. That beige part rotates around me, like it’s on an axle.

The (very) hard table. Those blue things hanging at the back are “forms” used for different patients to position arms, legs or whatever properly. The angel nurses do their best to make you comfy. A special head rest…warm blankets. It’s as good as it can get, considering what’s going on!

The view from the table. I’ve studied these rose paintings a lot. I found faces in some of the background areas. One has to while away the time somehow.

Now it’s time to face the last week.  My radiation treatments will be less broad, meaning they’re going to shrink the field where I’m receiving treatment.  A winding down of the process, I suppose.

My hope is strong, my attitude fierce, but most of all, I eagerly await the outcome of all I’ve been through.  My radiation oncologist said it can take up to a year for this kind of tumor to disappear, and this means a year of watchful waiting.  More tests, more scary moments before knowing the results, but with Blaine, my family, and all of YOU, we will anticipate the best outcome.

Of course!