So its been about a week since Mom's first treatment and so far so good. Lots of discomfort and headaches and fatigue, of course, but only a few major concerns. She went back to the treatment center yesterday for some follow up lab work. Most everything came back normal or low, but still ok, except for the white blood cell count, which as critically low. This is pretty typical, of course, and the after chemo shot is supposed to jump start the production, but I guess it just hasn't done its job very quickly.
As a result, Momma has been put a course of antibiotics to ward off any infection and now has to live her life for the next few days like a nurse would: wash your hands often! Other people are really germy! Tom joked that he was going to keep her from giving away too many Christmas hugs while she's on the antibiotics, but the nurses assured her that touching other people's hands is much, much dirtier than most any hug. So is being at the mall.
Other than that Momma has been feeling... ok. Lots of rest (good), lots of relaxing (good), lots of yummy food (good), lots of headaches (bad). At first we weren't really sure what was causing the headaches that seemed to last for days. Some theories were from the lumbar fluid extraction, others from the actual chemo itself. However, after Momma woke up last night with a lot of pain in her back and another headache after going to bed feeling fine, almost good, I think we may finally have a good theory for the headaches. It's her body making white blood cells. The doctor reminded her this morning on the phone that in addition to a white blood cell factory in the back, there are also white blood cell facories in the bones of your skull. So now we are thinking that the after chemo shot (which we were also told is on a sort of extended release cycle) is really starting to work. If we can just get through this achiness, and start understanding when it is going feel better, and believing it will get better, then we'll be good to go.
Can't you just tell us what to expect? Is that too much to ask?
So that's where we are. Taking it day by day. Like a toddler with tantrums, we are just trying to figure out our boundaries for when it's appropriate to pull the C-Card on your ass. Remember to post some messages for Momma on the blog, so that she can play the C-Card for you! You don't need to sign up in order to post messages, you can simply post anonymously and sign your name at the bottom. If she gets some messages, we can bait her into posting some updates herself. She really can tell these stories much better than I can, with details about everything the nurses said, and how funny they can be, and how funny some of the other ladies at the treatment center look. You get the idea.
Have a very Merry Christmas!
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Cancer Class and Portacaths
When we last updated, it was understood that Tuesday, December 13 was going to be THE DAY. The first battle of the war. That is, until Tuesday came and all the plans changed again. Here's what happened:
Mom showed up to her very first chemo treatment in the morning fully expecting to not expect anything at all and just get started. She had rested and eaten really well thanks to Tom's new bestie, the Cancer Cookbook. We're talking home cooked meals with soups made from stocks made from scratch, or poached salmon in homemade mineral broth with Morrocan pesto. You know, the kind of stuff that people in LA pay major bucks for, but we can just eat for fun because we already know better!
Anyways, we thought we was prepared. Eat right and sleep is all you need, right? Well, the nurses (the ones who really know whats going on) did not seem to think so. I imagine the conversation went kind of like this:
Nurse: "Honey, you got yourself a portacath?"
Mom: "Well, no, we were just going to wait and see if we needed it, right?"
Nurse: "Oh, honey, no, that's some powerful shit. You can't rub your skin, wash dishes, drink hot drinks. Honey, you can't do nothin without that port. You been to cancer class?"
Mom: "I'm sorry, what?"
And then she pulled a C-Card in the cancer treatment center. Mom said no treatment until she gets into a class and gets herself a port, because being in the dark is uncool. So she did. Here is this week's new schedule:
Wednesday: Cancer Class
Basic Objectives: Learning all about how little fun cancer will be. And how much fun it will be to say goodbye to cancer. One surprise lesson at cancer class: It looks like we'll need to get a very nice wig sooner rather than later. And I personally also think an Hermes scarf, or something very close to it, would not be inappropriate either.
Thursday (today): Lumbar Sample/"Spinal Tap" and Portacath Insertion
Since we don't want to delay the start of the chemo treatments any longer than we have to, the nurses at the treatment schedule got Mom set up to receive her portacath ASAP at the hospital. And while they were there and she'd be under some anesthesia, they figured they'd get a sample of some spinal fluid. Not ideal to have two treatments like this in one day, but, hey, we'll take it. At least its not multiple, separate trips to the hospital.
For those of us not in the cancer know, about the portacath: Because the chemo medicine is often pretty toxic stuff and fairly harsh on your veins (not to mention uncomfortable), you can have a semi-permanent port implanted in the chest with a direct line into the veins wherein the nurses can administer the chemo meds. It doesn't sound all that fun, but it helps to make a very uncomfortable procedure a little bit easier, and so we like the port.
So far Mom isn't too fond of her new port; its still a bit tight and tender and limits her movement in her arms for the next couple of weeks. (How will we lift the Christmas tenderloin in and out of the oven!!!???) I think, though, that it's going to be a really great thing, and I'm relieved that the nurses basically insisted upon it. The idea of having your arms free during the treatment sessions just seems so... well, free! You can get up and dance! You can wave to your friends!
It's a good thing.
Friday: The First Treatment
So now we've got the port, we've got most of the tests out of the way; its finally time to start the treatment tomorrow morning. Mom is going to get a cocktail of four drugs called CHOPS. At Cancer Class, she learned what each of those drugs aims to do, and what kind of side effects to expect from them. And the nurses, (remember, now, these are the people who actually know what they're doing) are all keeping an eye out and can supplement any questions that might come up over the 7-8 hours the treatment will take. I know I'd have some; Tom would have about 100; Mom will probably want to know what's for lunch. But hey, the nurses will have the answer to that, too!
I'm sure the treatment will go smoothly and Momma will definitely be ready for another home cooked super meal a la Chef Tom and some relaxation back home with them crazy doggies by the end of the day.
Saturday: After Chemo Shot
Way shorter than the treatment itself and helps gets your body back to being healthy again. I believe its meant to boost the white blood cell count. Also a good thing.
Monday: Baseline Heart Testing/Monitoring
Just a couple tests to get a baseline for Momma's heart and blood pressure so that we can monitor any side effects of the treatments. Also a fun baseline for monitoring the effects of me telling Momma that I'm going to get a tattoo.
And after that, no more of this mess for at least a few more weeks. Its time to relax, enjoy the season, have some fun, and get back to normal.
Mom showed up to her very first chemo treatment in the morning fully expecting to not expect anything at all and just get started. She had rested and eaten really well thanks to Tom's new bestie, the Cancer Cookbook. We're talking home cooked meals with soups made from stocks made from scratch, or poached salmon in homemade mineral broth with Morrocan pesto. You know, the kind of stuff that people in LA pay major bucks for, but we can just eat for fun because we already know better!
Anyways, we thought we was prepared. Eat right and sleep is all you need, right? Well, the nurses (the ones who really know whats going on) did not seem to think so. I imagine the conversation went kind of like this:
Nurse: "Honey, you got yourself a portacath?"
Mom: "Well, no, we were just going to wait and see if we needed it, right?"
Nurse: "Oh, honey, no, that's some powerful shit. You can't rub your skin, wash dishes, drink hot drinks. Honey, you can't do nothin without that port. You been to cancer class?"
Mom: "I'm sorry, what?"
And then she pulled a C-Card in the cancer treatment center. Mom said no treatment until she gets into a class and gets herself a port, because being in the dark is uncool. So she did. Here is this week's new schedule:
Wednesday: Cancer Class
Basic Objectives: Learning all about how little fun cancer will be. And how much fun it will be to say goodbye to cancer. One surprise lesson at cancer class: It looks like we'll need to get a very nice wig sooner rather than later. And I personally also think an Hermes scarf, or something very close to it, would not be inappropriate either.
Thursday (today): Lumbar Sample/"Spinal Tap" and Portacath Insertion
Since we don't want to delay the start of the chemo treatments any longer than we have to, the nurses at the treatment schedule got Mom set up to receive her portacath ASAP at the hospital. And while they were there and she'd be under some anesthesia, they figured they'd get a sample of some spinal fluid. Not ideal to have two treatments like this in one day, but, hey, we'll take it. At least its not multiple, separate trips to the hospital.
For those of us not in the cancer know, about the portacath: Because the chemo medicine is often pretty toxic stuff and fairly harsh on your veins (not to mention uncomfortable), you can have a semi-permanent port implanted in the chest with a direct line into the veins wherein the nurses can administer the chemo meds. It doesn't sound all that fun, but it helps to make a very uncomfortable procedure a little bit easier, and so we like the port.
So far Mom isn't too fond of her new port; its still a bit tight and tender and limits her movement in her arms for the next couple of weeks. (How will we lift the Christmas tenderloin in and out of the oven!!!???) I think, though, that it's going to be a really great thing, and I'm relieved that the nurses basically insisted upon it. The idea of having your arms free during the treatment sessions just seems so... well, free! You can get up and dance! You can wave to your friends!
It's a good thing.
Friday: The First Treatment
So now we've got the port, we've got most of the tests out of the way; its finally time to start the treatment tomorrow morning. Mom is going to get a cocktail of four drugs called CHOPS. At Cancer Class, she learned what each of those drugs aims to do, and what kind of side effects to expect from them. And the nurses, (remember, now, these are the people who actually know what they're doing) are all keeping an eye out and can supplement any questions that might come up over the 7-8 hours the treatment will take. I know I'd have some; Tom would have about 100; Mom will probably want to know what's for lunch. But hey, the nurses will have the answer to that, too!
I'm sure the treatment will go smoothly and Momma will definitely be ready for another home cooked super meal a la Chef Tom and some relaxation back home with them crazy doggies by the end of the day.
Saturday: After Chemo Shot
Way shorter than the treatment itself and helps gets your body back to being healthy again. I believe its meant to boost the white blood cell count. Also a good thing.
Monday: Baseline Heart Testing/Monitoring
Just a couple tests to get a baseline for Momma's heart and blood pressure so that we can monitor any side effects of the treatments. Also a fun baseline for monitoring the effects of me telling Momma that I'm going to get a tattoo.
And after that, no more of this mess for at least a few more weeks. Its time to relax, enjoy the season, have some fun, and get back to normal.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Mom's First C-Card
By now you all may know that my Mommy, Teresa, has tired of being an average gal and has joined a new, semi-exclusive club called CANCER.
A little background:
For a while now, I've been giving her a hard time about being a pushy, old lady who gets whatever she wants and doesn't care what you have to say about it, dammit. You know, one who typically pulls the, "Who do I need to talk to to get some service around here?" kind of pushy, old lady. Know what I'm saying?
Even though I love her very, very much, I can't help but want to keep telling her the same things she used to tell me, and probably still would: "Too bad"; "Life isn't fair"; "You'll be just fine"; and her favorite "Because I said so." We've all gotten by with a little less than we'd prefer, right?
Not good enough for Momma.
That attention-seeker went and got cancer. Now I have to do whatever she says and give her whatever she wants. And, of course, so do you.
So far she has only pulled the C-Card for those of us who have driven her to do so with our doting and in-your-face concern and all of those things the (not really) attention-seeker truly hates. But your time is coming.
We will be using this blog to give everyone some details about Momma's condition, her treatment and treatment schedules and basically everything she'll allow us to share until she is truly comfortable with pulling the C-Card during each and every exchange she has with another human being (I'm sure it won't be long now).
In time I imagine and hope we might even get some posts from the star of the show herself in her own words!
Now for some specifics:
Momma was diagnosed with Large B-Cell Lymphoma a little after Thanksgiving of this year after an MRI discovered a mass in her bones and a biopsy revealed the presence of lymphoma cells. She immediately got in with a very nice Oncologist, Dr. Saman, who seems to have a good sense of humor, and speaks very good English (a must for pushy, old white ladies).
According to the PET scans the lymphoma has not affected any other organs or lymph areas (THANK GOD) and her cancer is at either a Stage 2 or 4, pending the results of another biopsy.
Regardless of stages, her treatment starts NEXT WEEK and will consist of 6 long, boring, possibly uncomfortable treatments of chemotherapy, each of them 21 days apart. She'll have them at the treatment center right in the oncologist's office, where I fully expect her to be the "Belle of the Ball," interested in chatting with all of her new friends. I also have wonderful visions of her being the "Popular Girl" after her good friend, Ms. Pamala Stanley, treats everyone in the center to a private concert of all of her best disco and dance tunes. We'll see if that one happens, but wouldn't that be so fun??
Here's to hoping the chemo turns out as fun as it sounds! We'll be sure to update and let you know if our suspicions are true.
Abbe
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