In Michelle's Words

Two summers ago Michelle and I joined some friends for a kayaking trip down the Susquehanna River. About halfway thru the trip was a rope swing hanging over the river where a few teenagers were hanging out and having some fun. We figured this was a good place to stop and eat and maybe try out the rope swing ourselves.

Little Miss 5 Year Old Michelle really wanted to try out that rope swing and after I let her hang on it a few times but only swing out over the water and back to land I asked one of the teenagers to hang out in the water after he jumped off and I would allow her to “let go” if he would stay there and make sure she didn’t float away. He said “yes” so I handed my phone to a friend to record the moment and after making sure her life jacket was secured I gave her a big push on the rope and when she got to the right spot we all screamed “LET GO!” And let go she did.

I have it on tape. Her ponytail went straight up off her head and she splashed into the Susquehanna like a champ. The teenager made sure she got back to land safely and as she ran towards me she was saying “I did it. I can’t believe I did that!”

I did it. I can’t believe I did that.

I did it. I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe all I have been thru lately. All I have subjected my body too in the name of good health.

I have had both my breasts removed and dealt with a long and at times complicated post surgical recovery. I did it. I can’t believe I did that.

As soon as I was over the worst of that I started having chemo pumped into my body. For a total of six times, over the course of 18 weeks, I willingly allowed poison to be infused into my body. I did it. I can’t believe I did that.

Words cannot describe how I feel about closing this chapter of my treatment. I have a lot more to do before I am done, a lot. But chemo is over. Dare I say the “worst” of it is over?

It will take a long time for my body to heal, to get back to “normal”.

But,

I did it.

I can’t believe I did that.

CHEMO CHAPTER CLOSED

And that is all I am going to say about that.

For now anyway.

Tomorrow

Oh My God. Can it be tomorrow already? Can I just get this done? OVER OVER OVER!! LETS GET IT OVER!

Lately people have been asking me if I am excited that tomorrow is my last chemo, or telling me how excited they are for me. I find that word “excited” to be an odd choice, but I get it…I get why it’s used and I don’t begrudge anyone for using it. But I don’t think “excited” is a word I would use to describe how I feel. I am “happy” that after tomorrow I can close the chemo chapter of my treatment, really, truly glad to be done with it. You have no idea.

But I have absolutely no “happiness” or “excitement” of sitting in that chair again. I am not “excited” to get pumped full of chemo again, I am not “excited” to fall into another chemo coma. I am not “excited” to feel thisclose to death again.

Don’t get me wrong here, mentally I am in a better place than usual for the day before chemo. Because I know this is the last time. I won’t be sitting in that chair thinking “I can’t believe I have to do this 5 (4, 3, 2, 1) more times. Tomorrow I will sit there and think “I’m done, please God let me be done forever”.

But a part of me is scared to stop chemo too. The poison is suppose to save my life, right? How can I be sure I got enough? Or the correct kinds? Because it’s a “standard of care”? Standard of care. As in…this works for most people, let’s see if it works for Leah too? It’s a crying shame that the chemo standards are base on the cancer and what has worked in the past and not the person.

But…on the other hand…this course of chemo I am on has statistically worked. And the Herceptin which I have received weekly since July 10 and will continue to get weekly for two weeks from tomorrow and then every third week until next July also “statistically” works. As a matter of fact, it is considered a “miracle” drug for early HER2+++ breast cancer. I sure hope it works a miracle on me.

Of course, according to my mom the miracle has already occurred. I have more faith in my mom then in any MD or chemo anyway…so “Yay Mom!”

I just want to get it over with.

Field Of Pink (take 3)

Here is what I wanted to say today at The Field Of Pink when Cathy asked me if I had anything to say:

I am grateful for every day that I wake up, open my eyes, and take my first conscious breath of the day.

I am thankful for my family, friends and sisters in pink who gently hold my hand and walk with me as I travel thru cancerland.

I am hopeful that my daughter will live to see a world free of breast cancer.

I am humbled by the outpouring of love and generosity my community has shown its neighbors.

Here is what I said:

Blah blah sniff, cry, blah blah blah. Thank you.

Today was truly wonderful, I am truly happy. I will let the pictures tell the story.

Field Of Pink (take 2)

Recently a friend of mine put on Facebook a picture taken in his hometown of a Field Of Pink. In short this was a picture of a field full of little pink flags. Statistically 1 in every 8 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer so these flags represented 1 out of every 8 women in his town. After seeing this picture I wondered, could something like this be done here in my town.

Turns out that yes, it can. I brought the picture to my local community center and showed it to Cathy who is in charge of these kinds of things, and who is a breast cancer survivor herself. My thought was that even tho this is Breast Cancer Awareness month we could maybe throw this together and plant our field in the spring, when everything is starting to bloom. Cathy had another idea tho and within 8 hours she had put it together so that it could be done this month. As a matter of fact, she put it together so the field could be planted on Oct 21, so that I could participate in the planting and not be in a chemo coma as my LAST chemo is scheduled for Oct 23. To make things even more exciting for me the field in which all the little pink flags will be planted is a field I can see from my back windows.

625 flags will be planted. That number came based on the number of women in my township. So…if 1 in 8 women in my township were diagnosed with breast cancer, 625 women would have breast cancer. Scary number.

Cathy and I have shamelessly been promoting this fundraiser for the last few days and already we have raised over $300. All money will go to my new BFF Jane’s (remember Jane? I love Jane) pet charity The Pink Ribbon Fund. This fund thru LVH helps women AND men being treated for breast cancer pay household bills. All money in this fund goes directly to families in need, and all money that Cathy and I raise will go to this fund. No gimmicks. We are giving. We don’t need 50,000 “likes” to donate this money, we aren’t giving a “portion of the proceeds”, we are giving it all. All you have to do is donate $1 to sponsor a flag.

This feels good. This is doing my soul good. This has given me something to think about other then my own damn self.

Which surprises me because I have been telling myself since April 20 “Leah, just get thru this. Do what you gotta do and then get on with your life. Without looking back. You don’t need to be any different then you were.”

How could I not be different? How could I move on and forget this time period of my life? For the rest of my life every ache I have is going to cause me to think “is it back?” This is HER2+ breast cancer, it is scary and it is ugly and chances are if I were to be diagnosed with cancer anywhere else in my body at any time in my life it will be HER2+. And then I will be stage 4. And my back aches…

I won’t be “cured” until I die of something else.

So how can I just “move on” and give no thought to research? No thought to other (wo)men who are diagnosed? No thought to raising awareness? No thought to raising money? No thought to anything but me? I have been only thinking about myself for long enough now.

Field Of Pink

Chatting With The Nurse.

Today when I went to the infusion center for my weekly dose of Vit. H (that’s code for Herceptin for those of you unfamiliar with cancerland lingo) the first thing that happened was Dr. Sh.’s CRNP came over to talk to me. This is unusual. Usually I just go in, get my port accessed, get my Vit. H and go home. I am not seen by anyone other than the infusion nurses. But in walks (let’s call her) Mona.

I was very happy to see her, and even happier to talk about how miserable I have been feeling. I don’t think it’s too much nitty gritty to mention that I am so fatigued I can barely do more than shower and brush my teeth. Honestly, with these last two infusions I have become overwhelmed with fatigue almost immediately and it doesn’t even begin to abate until a week later. So that is Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. 8 days. 8 days of feeling like I could drop off to sleep at any moment. 8 days of having very little tolerance for…well…anything. I don’t want to talk. Or read. Or move. Thank God for all those Real Housewives of Everywhere…I can watch mindless TV and they are less annoying then SpongeBob.

But…back to what I wanted to bog about. In walks Mona and after listening to me gripe and moan and complain she says “You know, we can reduce your chemo dose for your next (and FINAL) treatment”, “I know”, I said “Dr. Sh. told me that too but will it reduce my side effects? Dr. Sh says it really won’t so what’s the point?” “The point”, says Mona “is that there is no good reason for you to feel this bad for this long. It is not conducive to healing. You have done well, you have mass quantities of chemo running thru you at all times killing off any lingering cancer cells. The side effects are cumulative, meaning each time they last longer. This has been long enough. I strongly suggest you reduce your last dose, I will tell this to Dr. Sh. too, you need to get back to living.”

I love Mona.

Her visit to me was unexpected. I don’t know if Dr. Sh. had sent her over to see how I was based on how I was last time a week after chemo or what. I didn’t ask. I didn’t care. I was glad to see her, glad she gave me a good 30 minutes of her time before my port was accessed and my Vit. H and liter of hydration was hanging (yeah, I needed that hydration again, you try to swallow with chemo mouth). Glad that she makes me feel cared for, important. Glad that she listens to me and speaks from her heart. She made me feel better by just her words and her eyes.

I really have nothing bad to say about any one of the medical professionals whose task it is to get me back to me. I have been blessed with a medical team of responsible, caring, professionals. There is nothing worse than a medical professional who makes you feel like a patient instead of a human. I think, as a patient with cancer, it is sometimes hard for me to even see myself as a human and not a patient, so it sure is nice when those tasked with caring for me can unintentionally remind me of my humanity.

On a completely different topic, can I just say how unfair it is that at least 50% my eyebrows have chosen to fall out while my armpit hair is growing in? Seriously. Just this morning. I saw it on the towel.

Stupid cancer. Stupid chemo.

Lana!

 A personal letter made public.

Dear Lana,

It took me a long time to read your words as it was hard to see thru the tears streaming down my face. I am truly touched that you decided to contact me and share yours and J's (thus far) journey. And I am amazed and warmed to find out that my journey has helped to guide you along the way.

I would so like to "talk" more with you. So I am going to publicly put my email address here for you.
(she got it so I deleted the email). This is my "give the saleslady an email" email address. Please contact me privately and I will respond to you and give you my "real" email address.

Sending love and (gentle) hugs to J and you
Leah

A Conversation With Dr. Sh.

It seems to me more attention should focus on the emotional aspects of chemo. All my sisters in pink know what I am talking about. I know it seems unreasonable that even tho I know it’s the chemo playing with my emotions I can’t control it. I want to say to myself “hey idiot! It’s just the chemo making you feel this way, snap yourself out of it and for Gods sake…be nice!”

Much easier said than done.

But this time around I am doing ok. Thanks to the ass kickings I got from many well intentioned friends. And thanks to the fact that I know I only have to do this ONE MORE TIME! Please God, let one more time be the end. I am not even going to go in to the “what if’s” of that…

I need to work on myself now. Maybe yoga? Meditation? I need to regain the strength I have lost. Here’s a little of a recent conversation between me and Dr. Sh.

Me: My muscle ache, all the time. I can’t even ride my bike around the block without my arm and leg muscles screaming at me.

Dr. Sh.: That’s the Taxotere. It will stop once you are off it.

Me: Even with eye drops my vision is still blurry.

Dr. Sh.: That’s the Taxotere. It will stop once you are off it.

Me: My mouth is so gross and I really can’t taste anything but the yuk in my throat.

Dr. Sh.: That’s the Taxotere. It will stop once you are off it.

Me: My hair is growing back. Like, everywhere.

Dr. Sh.: That’s the Taxotere. Sometimes after the 3^rd or 4^th infusion hair does grow back.

Me: Look at me nails! What’s going on with them?

Dr. Sh.: That’s the Taxotere. Your nails are getting brittle. They will probably peel off a bit. Maybe break off.

Me: Ok, what can we blame on the Carboplatin?

Dr. Sh: The fatigue.

Me: And the Herceptin?

Dr. Sh.: The runny nose.

Me: Are you sure I have to do this again?

Dr. Sh.: Research shows that yes, you do. But I could decrease the dose for the last one if you want.

Me: Would it change/diminish my side effects?

Dr. Sh.: No. But I must say, physically you have handled this extremely well. I know you have troubles emotionally, but physically you are doing good. You look good. You have really done well. I am impressed with how well you have done.

Me: Thanks

Dr. Sh.: Now, can we talk about your lab work? Your liver enzymes are a bit high. Have you had some alcohol?

SERIOUSLY??? Wow. Those of you who know me…I ask you this…if my liver enzymes were high after a small, pitiful amount of beer in 3 months time….could you imagine what they were in say…June???

Turns out, they were elevated a bit, but he was just joking when he asked about the booze. I confessed to consuming a minimal amount of beer. I told him it was good for my soul. And he was OK with it. I knew he would be.

Ready For The Second To Last One

Trying to regain the warrior spirit is, at times, hard. But today when I went to my onc’s office to get my pre-chemo bloodwork done I scheduled my last (yes, last) chemo for Oct 23. And I found myself smiling as I did so. Barring any unforeseen circumstances I will get my last chemo infusion on Oct. 23. Hopefully forever, please God, forever.

The glass is half full today. Baby steps…

Honestly, the Monday before chemo is kind of fun…I get my lab work in the AM and spend the remainder of the morning with my mom. And I eat…horrible, crappy, oh so bad for me food. And I love every bite of it. Plus..I am “high” on steroids so I have energy to burn. Anyone need me to vacuum their house? Say around 2AM?

Decadron…oh so good to keep side effects at bay…oh so bad for my nerves, and stomach. I’m jumpy, shakey and hungry. But…on a good note…it has not caused me to gain any weight. I was real worried about that. As a matter of fact, I really haven’t lost any weight. From diagnosis to now I have lost just enough weight to be my “wedding day” weight. Which is a perfectly acceptable weight for me. And not one of my medical professionals seems at all concerned about my weight.

As a matter of fact, last time I saw Dr. Sh he commented on how well I was handling chemo and its side effects. See? I put on a happy face for him.

As for the 4 I have had, the last one was the worst. Resulting in a mouth sore (like I don’t have enough problems there! Have I mentioned how gross chemo mouth is? Seriously, I except flames to come shooting out every time I open my mouth) and a need for some rehydration a week later. But other than that…(oohh...you just got some nitty gritty!)

…just the emotional part was bad…

So I guess I am ready for #5. I guess I have no choice. Other than stopping now, and I have been told, multiple times, by multiple people that stopping now is NOT an option…well, it is really…you aren’t going to tie me up and drag me in there, then strap me down, are you? Are you?

So here is what you can do to help me get thru this next week or more. Email me, leave me voicemails, remind me that I am a warrior and that you love me. Raise my name up in prayer. Send me good vibes and cyber hugs. Tell me what we are going to do together in a few months that will be oh so fun. Just add a comment here if you will. Help me to remember what I so easily forget lately, that I can, and am, doing this.

Oh…and don’t forget to tell me I am pretty…