Wednesday, March 19th:
This is it. Round six. Halfway there and a promise of a PET Scan. Finally.
The treatments themselves are all running together. They have become one large continuous nightmare. They almost deserve a countdown. T-minus one hour... then hell.
The side effects have become unpredictable. Nothing is ever the same. Each treatment some new fresh torture for a week and a half.
Mouth on fire. Upset stomach. Diarrhea. Loss of appetite (and weight). Headaches. Insomnia. Chest pressure. Shortness of breath. Fatigue. Fatigue. And fatigue.
The light at the end of the tunnel? I only have 6 more of these to do. Hopefully. Three more months.
Spivey is confident in the proceedings. He is a machine. "How are you feeling today? Anything new? Hmm, well that's to be expected. Okay, well everything looks good. Let's go ahead and schedule you for a heart echo next week. And I'll talk to Claudia (my nurse) about setting up for PET for next week as well. How does that sound?"
Seriously? It sounds pretty good.
Monday, March 24th:
My chest hurts. My breathing at times feels over laborious. Deep breathes hurt. Who would have known a heart echo requires so much deep breathing and breathe holding? I'm sure I should have remembered from the last time I had one, but I had a lot on my mind back then.
The nurse performing the procedure did her best to jab my heart through the skin. She must really hate heart disorders, cause she was really trying to get after it.
"So, what brings you in today?" Umm... the echo? I mean, you are much more healthy looking and younger than the people we usually have in here?" Oh, I see... I have cancer.
We then had a lovely conversation where I was grilled with every question about my diagnosis and treatment imaginably possible.
I guess it was good for her, because after an hour of jabs and stabs she told me I did a great job and was all set to get out of there.
"Good luck."
Wednesday, March 26th:
7:45 am, and my nerves are gone. I want nothing more than to take this test, good or bad. These last seconds were killing me. I just want to know.
As uneventful as the procedure really is, it is such a big deal. It just feels anticlimactic when they've run you through and send you out the door. "We should have your results in 24-48 hours"
Sleep tight.
After the PET I still needed to get my weekly blood work. Thankfully they allowed me to go right after the scan so I wouldn't have to come back again later.
My hemoglobin levels are up. 13.2, the highest it has been in... well I don't even know. I am close though. They tell me the normal range for me is around 14-18. SO CLOSE.
Good news. God news goes a long way during something like this. Let's just hope we get more.
The only thing worse than the wait to get the PET is the wait to get the results.
Thursday, March 27th:
I called Claudia to ask her is she faxed over my medical release so I could go back to work. She told me my PET results were in.
Very calmly, very matter-of-act like, explained that the reporting doctor's findings indicated that there were no detectable signs of cancer.
My head almost exploded.
There were so many questions. What does this mean? Do I have to finish the other treatments? This is good right? Why do you not sound excited or enthused about this at all?
She assured me that it was good news. She said it was the best news we could receive from the scan. But she insisted that this is not over.
Buzzkill.
It took me some time to process this news. I'm not sure if I have processed it completely quite yet. It all seems so surreal. No, it doesn't seem real at all. Nothing about any of this has seemed real. Just a bad dream.
Maybe, soon, I can wake up and it will all be over.
Friday, March 28th:
I'm hoping that I haven't caught something. I have only been back to work for four days and I'm already starting to feel run down and sick. I have a pesky cough that is starting to work itself into the mix.
Great. Another cough. Because the last one worked out so well for me.
In addition, each day at work I had developed severe nose bleeds that I needed the school nurse to help me control.
At least the PET was clean though.
By Friday evening I felt completely terrible. I had developed a fever. Then chills. Then night sweats.
What the hell?!
Saturday, March 29th:
I checked into the ER at 6 am. I had been up since 4 with chills, monitoring my fever. 102.4. I called the on-call desk for my oncologist and was intructed that I needed to go to the ER immediately.
I've got a nice little Saturday ahead of me.
6 hours. I was in the ER for 6 hours and they couldn't tell me what the problem was. Again.
They did chest x-rays. Urine test. Sputum analysis. EKG. And a lot of blood work. And they told me nothing. I had to ask them to tell me my blood counts. 11.9.
11.9. A few days before I was at 13.2 and had new hope. Now I am here again. In the same room even , more scared than hopeful.
I was put on an antibiotic drip that lasted 4 hours, a magnesium sulfate drip that lasted 3, and given morphine for pain. Yes, but why is this happening?
The nightmare had returned. All of this. I had seen all of this before. Chills. Sweats. Fever. And a cough that hurts deep in your chest that triggers you to vomit. These were the "B Symptoms".
Are they back? Or am I just sick?
Like my other trips to the ER I was given no answer. No peace.
I was given morphine and released to drive my self home that same day. It probably wasn't the best thing to do, but morphine is a hell of a drug.
My mother-in-law Nolene came to our rescue on Saturday. She was celebrating her 60th birthday with a weekend trip. Ashley was at home alone with the boys and I was in the ER. She drove in to help and be with Ashley and the boys. Thank you. We were a wreak and didn't know what was going on or what we were going to have to do. At one point in the ER they kept reassuring me that they were going to admit me for a while. Thankfully they didn't, but she was there for us just in case, during her Birthday weekend. Thank you.
I have been "sick" now for 4-5 days. My lungs feel like they hurt. I have trouble still taking deep breaths. They hurt a lot and cause me to cough, sometimes uncontrollably. If I stand too fast, talk too much, or attempt to live my life anywhere but on my back my cough attacks. My chest hurts. If I cough too much I throw up, or at least dry heave in pain until I'm able to catch my breathe with out my lungs feeling like they are on fire.
My fever, chills, and sweats have persisted. I was given an antibiotic and told not too worry, "It just has to run its course." Yeah, I've heard that one before.
I hope this doesn't continue. I need to get better, but I need to work. It makes me feel better, makes me feel normal. Plus, my illness granted extended leave days will expire soon. Then, at that point, they start docking a full days wage. That's not another headache that I want to have to deal with.
So, I can only hope that they are right and that it is just some bug that has to run its course. I hope it's not the "B Symptoms". I hope my lungs aren't hurting like this from the Bleomycin. I hope everything is okay. I hope my cancer is still clear.
It's hard to revel in the good news of the week when you feel like you have been resolved to the beginning again. Sick, stuck looking for answers.
#StayStrong
Thank you to everyone that reads and supports me through this. Thank you to everyone who has given a dollar or a kind word during this trying time. I don't always feel optimistic about this experience, but your care really helps. Wish me luck on the future. We still have a long road to go and it seems a bit bumpy. Buckle up.
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