Just the Facts

I learned very clearly three distinct facts this week.
1. Teaching algebra, teaching fractions, and chemo do not mix.
2. Radiation techs do not take tattoo requests or moonlight doing flames on shoulders.
3. Emotional reactions to cancer treatment can be almost as difficult to deal with as physical reactions.
I will explain:

First, as I "came to" from my chemo in the last week or so I started focusing on what the boys were doing in school and trying to evaluate their progress. In Math this year, Andrew is doing algebra and Ben is doing fractions. I thought they were doing OK. They were missing a few problems, but on the whole I felt they were moving forward. Big mistake. Last week I noticed there were a few things that they were just plain missing or doing totally wrong. I spent the remainder of last week and all of this week hammering them with review and going over mistakes to fix the errors that I had just not noticed when I was doing chemo.

I have now realized that I was much, much worse during the chemo than I recognized at the time. I can clearly see how my hand writing deteriorated over time and several other issues (like the math) have occurred to me. I also think that I had no business driving during that time. Whew, scary. God's protection was strong over us during that time.

Fact number two, radiation techs don't take requests or moonlight doing flaming tattoos. BTW, they do not they think it is very funny when you suggest this either. Tuesday, I went for my radiation "simulation". Basically, this involved me lying on a table with my arms over my head and my chest exposed while a doctor and a tech moved me around, drew on me with sharpies, took pictures, placed permanent markers (AKA tattoos) on my skin, and then gave me a CT scan. It didn't take very long but it sure was strange. The strangest part was, as we were leaving, the doctor instructed me to try to "wash around" the giant three inch by three inch sharpie targets that were drawn on each of my sides and in the middle of my chest. They also incorrectly told me the tattoo would stop hurting quickly. The doctor said they would call next week to set the appointment and I would start radiation next week too.

Despite the fact that the doc and the tech were very nice and caring, I left there kind of put out. I was all marked up, the tattoos hurt, and I was irritated to have to wait longer to set up my next appointment. And, of course, I felt like a cancer patient again with a new phase of treatment looming in front of me. I went home, ate my dinner generously provided for me by a friend, then jumped into the shower to get ready to go for Tuesday night. When I stepped out of the shower and saw my impossibly short hair, the trifecta of scars across my chest, and the giant targets now circling my body, I lost it. (Fact number three, emotions are hard to deal with.) I saw down in my closet and cried. A lot. I looked at the clock and realized I had fifteen minutes until it was time to leave, so I sort of, not very well pulled myself together and headed out the door.

By Wednesday, upset had changed to pure anger. I was mad that I had to do this again, mad at them for marking me up, and mad at because I was inconvenienced. A lot of good that did me. I have started getting dressed in the closet so that I don't have to see the marks in the mirror. The tattoos stopped hurting after two days. And, when I think about it rationally, I am glad that the process takes a few days because it is a very scientific calculation about where to aim the radiation beams and I sincerely don't want them to make a mistake and radiate my heart or lungs. So I am just sitting and waiting and letting the sharpie wear off...

Mom, at my request, has come back to help out this week. I called her on Saturday waving the white flag and asking for help. She didn't hesitate and is here cheerfully doing all of the things around the house that usually produce grumbling from the rest of us. (Do you like to clean toilets and vacuum behind the bed??) This leaves me free to spend the day completely focused on school with the boys and then take blissful two hour naps while the laundry magically flies back into my drawers. I am trying to be really, really patient and gentile with myself in order to heal, but of course I want to be better NOW!

"We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and shield. In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name."Psalm 33:20-21

Moving Forward

This week started with a bang as I went on Tuesday to have a PET scan. This involved being injected with a radioactive sugar, sitting for an hour, then laying in a tube for most of another hour. I came home from this not feeling relaxed and happy from my vacation, but feeling again like a cancer patient. ARGH!

On Wednesday, I had a pretty good day, but had to take Andrew downtown to the library in the afternoon for a class he is taking. That meant I was on the go all day, no rest. By the time we got home at 4:00, I was a mess. I couldn't move and feel asleep in the chair. I woke up from the nap, realized I still couldn't move and would have to cancel my plans for the evening. That made me absolutely furious. I was mad, so mad, that I couldn't do what I wanted to do any more. I was angry that I was going to have to have radiation. I was tired of being sick and on Wednesday, I had just had enough.

This might not have been the best frame of mind to enter Thursday when I was going to see both oncologist and the radiology oncologist. I was definitely agitated. When the nurse checked my blood pressure, it was so high she asked what Paul had done to me on the way in to make me upset. I quickly removed the blame from him, but I was still worked up.

When we finally got to see the oncologist, he was smiling. This is rare because he is a very, very serious man. He proclaimed my scan to be "unremarkable". Don't you love that word? I have never in my life been so happy to be unremarkable. It has been a while since any doctor called any test of mine unremarkable. They always start the conservation with "let's discuss a few things..." Unremarkable was way, way better. (Thank you to all of you who were praying about this. What an awesome answer to the prayers!)

We also met with the radiology oncologist to get set for radiation. The next question is if your scan showed you to be cancer free, why do you still have to have radiation? Good question. The scan can only pick up visible chucks of cancer. However, if even a tiny, microscopic bit of cancer cell is left alive it can grow into a big, bad tumor. The radiation is delivered locally (only at the site of the original cancer) to ensure that all tiny spots (that is, of course, the technical term) are killed.

I have a simulation to get all set up for radiation on Tuesday. I prefer to think of this as tattoo day. Then we will start the next week. The doctor told me I would need six weeks of radiation. Actually, it is 34 treatments. I get treatment Monday through Friday. 34 treatments...you do the math. According to my third grade math skills that is not six weeks, it is seven. Another instance when I have caught my oncologist lying. I called him out on this yesterday, but I realize when he tells me the best case scenario and glosses over the side effects it is probably for my own good. Still, in any other conditions, we would call this lying!

After I called him on the carpet for lying, I asked the oncologist what I should do now. How should I live so that I don't have to come back and do this again? I was fully prepared to get a speech about diet and exercise. Nope. He said, "You need to go out and live your life, know that the doctors have done everything possible for you and trust God for the rest." Great answer. I am definitely going to follow that advice.

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Romans 15:13

Just What the Doctor Ordered

Our vacation was exactly what we needed. I benefited the most from the time away, but Paul and the boys will definitely report that they had a great time. I had two major accomplishments while we were gone. First, I made friends with my new very, very short hair and even allowed my picture to be taken a few times. Second, on the two week anniversary of my last chemo when I was kissing a stingray* and snorkeling, I felt as if I personally had just won the Superbowl. Definitely a win for God and I over cancer and yuck!

(*Just an aside about kissing the stingrays, if you visit the Cayman Islands, you should not miss the chance to do this. It was incredible.)

Today, I feel as if my brain is waking up. I went to Bible study this morning and was almost overstimulated by all of the things going on. I was aware of the other people and their movement. I was actually able to listen and understand what they were talking about. I did not realize how dull my senses and brain had become. I mean, I knew it was bad. I just didn't know how bad. I am looking forward to more and more clarity as the chemo clears my system.

As for as the rest of me, I am still napping every afternoon. However, the naps are getting shorter and I am sleeping less at night. I am trying to be very patient and remember to sit down and rest when I am tired, so I will continue to heal as quickly possible.

Tomorrow I am having a PET scan. I don't know exactly what this will entail, but it has quite an interesting set of preparation guidelines. No strenuous exercise for two days (that is an easy one), no caffeine, sugar, or carbs after noon today. That means I can have meat and lettuce for dinner, no sauce, no dressing. Ok, but a little strange. On Thursday, I am meeting with my oncologist to discuss the test results and then with the radiologist to get set for radiation. I call this double header doctor day. I am praying things go very smoothly and the my test clearly reveals that I am completely cancer free.

"A cheerful heart is good medicine." Proverbs 17:22