I NEED A PEDICURE!!

I took a day off on Friday, to make up for the fact that I'm working, traveling to Boston for a business meetng, on Presidents' Day.  I was really looking forward to a day of no work and no obligations, and planned to sleep late without guilt, go to yoga, sit at a cafe with a latte and the newspaper, and most excitingly, meet my friend and outside counsel B (OCB) for an afternoon mani-pedi at a fancy place.  (I won't name it, but the door is red. :) Oh, and somwhere in there, cruise by Sibley hospital to pick up the contrast agent to drink before my scan on Tuesday (to wash down those pancakes I'm craving!)

Well, cancer once again put a damper on my well-laid plans.  

Following my late Thursday visit to Dr. S, two obligations were added to my Friday Fun day: 1) schedule an appointment with an endodontist to try to determine why I'm having significant mouth/jaw pain, and 2) make a quick visit to Suburban Hospital for blood "typing and crossing."

My morning began in a relaxed pace, and I was miraculously able to get a same day 1:00 appt with enodondist/dentist J (EDJ), so I decided to skip yoga.  I ended up spending almost 3 hours at EDJ's office as he tried to get to the root of the problem. (yes, pun intended!)  It was very painful, as several teeth are so sensitive that even touching them lightly made me jump out of the chair, and there are sore spots in my gums where 4 wisdom teeth were recently extracted.  (yes, I am just a ball full of medical/dental fun these days!).  EDJ was very nice and gentle, but poking around and placing film in my mouth for x-rays was excrutiaing for all of those involved.  By 2:30, I knew I would not have time to get to Sub hospital and to the salon by 3:15, so OCB's assistant moved our appointments to 4:15.  By 3:30, the mouth pain team had accomplished taking x-rays and a CT scan, but EDJ still had no clue as to the cause of, or treatment for, my dental pain.  I like surprises, but have never been a big fan of mysteries, and I abhor them when related to my health.

When I finally finished--the end part of the end-odontist, it was 3:40, and now I knew I would also miss the 4:15 fancy salon appt.  I called OCB in tears . .  I'm so sorry, I don't think I can make it . . OCB said, oh don't worry, its fine . .  is there anything I can do, anything you need?

"Yes. I NEED A PEDICURE!"

I got through hospital admissions, and having blood drawn, despite a mean desk agent who yelled at me that I needed to have an old-fashioned paper prescription with me..  (I in fact didn't, Dr S's office had set it up and sent everything they needed electronically.)  A nice couple came over and intercepted, and told the desk guy to lighten up and call my Doctors' office himself, as I was shaking by then, the tears were coming once again, and I had bad cell phone reception.  I told the mean desk guy: "This is a freakin' hospital--you're supposed to be nice to people!"  That'll teach him a lesson, I'm sure.

Less-mean lab guy took a blood sample, and I was on my way, wearing 2 hospital bracelets fashionably stacked with my other bracelets.  (I think this will be a trend by next week, don't you?) I wondered whether I would be tracked down as a hospital escapee, or perhaps the bracelets would get me a free drink later on, or entry to a concert.



I met OCB at our local, cheapie nail salon, where you don't need an appointment, and they pretty much  stay open all evening, until whenever paying clients stop showing up. I finally relaxed.  The pedicure was worth the wait.  OCB brought beverages and snacks, and we caught up, completely forgetting to talk business.  Oh well, there will be plenty of time for that.  Thank you OCB!!

Still to come: Saturday, bloody Saturday . . .

Valentines Day Surprises: Hearts (Blood) & Flowers

I was completely surprised when flowers were delivered to me at my office on Thursday.  My perfect husband (Ph) never sends me flowers, and had already given me a card and fancy chocolates early that morning.  (Ph keeps bringing me sweets and desserts . . .  is he trying to fatten me up? make me sweeter?) 

My first thought: Were the flowers from a secret admirer? How exciting would that be?? Or were they cancer flowers? You know, some charity organization, like Flowers for Middle-Aged Breast Cancer Patients (FFMABCP?) And what does one do with mystery flowers? Leave them at the office to wither while I'm out for 5 days, or take them home and have to explain them?  Inside the box, there were tulips, my favorite flower, so the sender obviously knew me.  I didn't see a card initially, and was contemplatiing the statistical probability of various possible senders, when I found the card . .  the tulips were from my lovely daughter!!  Flowers from my little girl--what could be more heartwarming?  I texted a photo of the flowers to her and said they are gorgeous, and so is she.  (She coincidentally received the same flowers from her guy). Years ago, during law school I think, I spent several days in NYC, and stayed in Gramercy Park with my dear Aunt S, an artist/art teacher, where she had lived since, at least 1950, in a rent control apartment that was "huge," by NY standards.  I brought her flowers and she commented, with her artistic flair "You don't need to bring me flowers. You are a flower!"  Lovely daughgter: You don't need to send me flowers. You are a flower!  But I am touched and delighted that you did!

Now the heart(s)--I only had a few hours in my office on Thursday, following out of town meetings and travel, was stressed and rushed to Dr. S's office just barely in time for them to draw my blood and get a lab report.  The surprising news was that my blood counts had dropped even lower since last week, so despite getting "the shot" last week, and another one on Thursday, I was told I need a blood transfusion. WHAT??  Another one of those "am I suddenly on Mars? moments."  I attempted to tell the nurse that I feel fine, I mean I'm not as tired as I should be with counts that low, I mean I'm exhausted right now, but its because I just had 2 days of travel, board meetings, several nights with only 4 hours of sleep, (including staying up til 4 am to prepare for a meeting with health officials of a Latin American country . .  and unbeknownst to me, the meeting was held in Spanish, and my limited communication skills: Buenas Dias, uno mas vino tinto and donde as el bano would not get me very far in this meeting, and was very stressful . . . . I said  this far less eloquently than even this lame attempt at writing it, and tried to apologize to Chemo room nurse K; . . .  she said--"You're not making sense because you're not getting enough oxygen to your brain.  Or to your heart for that matter, and there are risks of a heart atack.  Most people with levels this low would not have enough energy to be walking around.  Dr. S says you must get this transfusion ASAP."

Yes, m'am.  (And note to self: what if the Latin American regulations are published and all they address is red wine and finding a bathroom??)

So I was immediately scheduled for "type and cross" on Friday, which to me sounds like a London tube station--and a 5-hour blood transfusion on Saturday,  at Suburban Hospital.  There goes the weekend.

So, I'm bummed about the blood counts and transfusion, but the flowers make me so happy I could cry.

Happy Belated V-Day everyone!

A Shot in the Arm!

In the last week or so, I began to feel signs and symptoms of a lower red blood cell count.  Who but a non-chemo virgin would notice such a thing?? In the past, I may have just thought I was tired, or getting out of shape, or getting a cold or something . . .

The first indication was during a workout with Super-Trainer T.  We are close friends (I love this woman!) and so we talk the whole time during my once-a week-ish weight training session.  By we, I guess I mean, I talk the whole time--after all, a lot happens in a week! And there's only so much that even a Perfect Husband wants to hear.  But on this day, talking while lifting weights was not going so well.  In the few days that followed, I also noticed myself getting winded, even during power-shopping with my lovely daughter in Georgetown.  Power shopping does require energy and fous, but it is not exactly an extreme sport.  For some in my weekly boot camp workout class, my inability to talk and workout simulateously might be a benefit, but not for me.

Like the cancer nerd I am, I had saved all of my lab slips from 2010, and this year, so I made a chart.  Like the non-techie that I am, it is on paper with ink, not an excel spreadsheet.  But it very clearly shows the ups & downs of my white blood cells, hemoglobin, hematocrit, and platelets.  I knew enough to suspect the inability to power talk and power walk simulataneoulsy was not a Gerry Ford-type problem, but likely a drop in the hemos and hemas--i.e., my red blood cell count.

My next visit to Dr. S confirmed my suspicions with actual lab results--in fact showing that my blood counts now--after three cycles of treatment--are lower than they were at the very end of treatment in 2010.  The possibility of underlying anemia was ruled out, concluding it is chemo-related.  Again, that non-virgin chemo patient status rears its ugly head--feed me, feed me! 

In fact, Dr. S quickly decided to feed me with a supercharged biotech drug that boosts red blood cell production.  It is a subcutaneous shot indicated for use when red blood cell counts are lowered, within a certain range (and not to be confused with the other "shot" to boost white blood cell production.  Let's keep those colors sdtraight!  This is an appropriate use of this treatment--so hopefully I will regain the ability to walk, talk, workout, and power shop, in various combinations.  No, I will not be vying for a top finish in the Tour de France.  Just in case you were wondering. 

Chemo Cycle 2 & Realizing What's Important

I have completed 2 cycles of treatment since December 20: 4 chemo "sittings," 2 follow-up shots, numerous other visits with dentists, alternative healthcare providers, & non-oncologists.  No partridge in a pear tree.  Side effects have been relatively minimal & tolerable.  In cycle 1, I had a stomache ache for about 5 days--not debilitating, but annoying enough to keep me from wanting to work out or do very much at all.  Dr S thus prescribed "valium for the tummy." Yum.  This version of mother's little helper really worked for me.

In both cycles, I have had bone pain, a side effect of "the shot." The shot is a biotech drug that works to keep my white blood cell count up, as the chemo tries to pull it down.  It empowers my body to fend off infection. It works by activating cells in my bone marrow that produce those white blood cells.  In doing so, it can cause bone pain. I only experienced this once back in 2010, when I felt  a sense of little hammers beating away at my spine. I called Dr. S' office in distress, and they advised it was the expected bone pain.  (oh, sorry, I thought you meant achiness, not an all-out attack on my spine! ). It was managed just fine back then with OTC meds.  This time, the bone pain has not been just one battle, but a several day attack. As advised by the nurses, since I'm a second-timer, my white blood cell count was less hearty to begin with; so the shot is powering into my spine, ribs, breastbone, jaw.  One day it felt almost like labor pains, 10 minutes apart, 5 minutes apart . . . I eventually got something better for the pain, which I only needed to use once, as the bone jolts have subsided for now.

Other than that, it's been largely positive.  I've kept my hair thus far (more on that in another post); feel pretty good; am told I look good (and not just, "you look good for a cancer patient"). :). I was feeling strong and accomplished, and yes, I managed chemo on the same day I met with foreign government officials, including a delicious dinner & fabulous wine at Bourbon Steak in the Four Seasons Hotel in DC.  If you want to blow big bucks on an amazing dinner, go there! 5 stars!  So despite (or in between) the side effect annoyances, I have been quite happy, even euphoric at times.

Until this week.  I was swamped at work, and my schedule did not give me the opportunity to work from home (which I'm trying to do one day a week, to take the edge off). I had almost nonstop meetings;  have several business trips coming up to prepare for; and worked well into the evening 3 days in a row. On the second day, I put my head down on my desk during a conference call that led to a handful of new tasks. An hour later, I burst into tears reading the blog of  the sister of a neighborhood friend--the blogger is also a triple negative breast cancer patient It's fairly rare, and I don't know anyone else . . )  and she wrote poignantly about their mother's funeral.  It brought to light what is really important in life--I love what I do professionally, but when it comes down to it--what really matters? Memos and legislative strategies and legal analysis? Or sisters and mothers and relatives with illnesses, and loved ones coming together to celebrate the good times, and hold each other up in the tough times?

This is a question for which I think we all know the answer.