We went out on an adventure this week. I flew on a plane and my arm didn't swell up like a balloon (yes, that is a realistic possibility). We hiked mountains, saw whale sharks, drank 64 kinds of soda in 15 minutes, saw how the news was made, checked out a civil war battle field and more. All in three days. My recovery status is such that is takes from exactly Wednesday morning until Saturday at 5 PM for me to become so tired that I will start to hurt, cry and have a meltdown. Yep, that was also the time when we were in the airport. There was nowhere, and I mean nowhere, to sit down. Just FYI, They sort of frown on you plopping down on the floor in the middle of the security line. But thanks to a comfy airport chair (ok, a chair, scratch the comfy) at the gate (which was about 200 miles from the car), a snack, and a nice calm down pill from the doctor, I recovered enough to walk down the jet way and get home. Today I can barely stand up and keep dozing off mid-sentence, but it was worth it.
I did figure out in the midst of it all that it is easier to be an invalid who looks like one than a (formerly) sick girl who looks normal. When you don't have hair, people jump up to give you their seat all over the place. When you look normal, the 20 year old who is texting and taking up two seats gives you a dirty look when you need to squeeze in next to her.
Speaking of being helpful, this is an awesome set of articles about helping those who are hurting. I think it is useful for those who are grieving or sick. Definitely worth the time to read. (Mom and others of you who are tech challenged, just click the word "this" and it takes you there.)
"Praise be to the God and Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts is in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we have received from God." 2 Corinthians 1"3-4
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
The Story
On Friday, I declared it to be summer at my house. Since I am the teacher, principal and attendance officer of my school, I can do that. So here I sit 9:30 on the first morning of summer. One of my kids is still sawing logs in his bed and the other is totally engrossed in a Shakespearean tragedy...OK, you caught me, a Star Wars book. As I have a little free time, I felt this would be a good time to fill you in on the whole story of what has happened the last few weeks. (On the isn't my kid wonderful note, the reader has now switched the Bible for his morning devotion. Awww, love him!)
Back to my story...I finished my radiation about a month ago. I thought I would feel triumphant, like a prize fighter who just won the championship. Nope, I started crying, could hardly get out of bed and really didn't know what was going on. Aggravating the situation, Paul was completely out of sympathy. I don't mean a little unsympathetic, I mean over it, nothing left, angry at me for crying. After a week of this, a friend finally urged me to call the doctor. For me, before I call the doctor, I always read the cancer books to see if the answer is in there. These books reside in a large stack in the corner of my bedroom. Turns out that what was happening to me was pretty common. I was having a sort of post traumatic stress reaction to finishing treatment. Since there was no longer any action to do to fight the cancer, I let down the dam and all of the emotions that I had been holding back for the last year in order to be able to deal with the treatment came flying out. Also, our life was (is) unrecognizable from a year ago and I had no idea how to get it going again. In addition, I was no longer getting the constant hand holding and reassurance from the medical staff; I felt scared and all alone. Later when we talked to one of my docs, she confirmed that this is perfectly normal and happens often. She even chuckled just a little when I told her what happened. Hmm, do you think one of you wise doctor types could have warned me about this? (Note on this, cancer doctors tend to not tell patients the whole truth about what may happen. I realize this is for my own good. If the doctor told me I was going to have a problem, chance are I would self fulfill that prophecy and make a problem for myself. I get it, I just don't have to like it.)So, I spent a week weeping, a week trying very hard to stop weeping (mostly unsuccessfully) and then started to come out of it.
The next week I began the follow-up round of doctor visits that seems to dominate my calendar this month. I also had a mammogram and a blood test. Both of these came back clear and indicate no signs of cancer. Hooray!! Also very important, my liver and kidneys seem to have survived the chemo and are back to functioning normally. Hooray again! My blood counts are hanging in there, not going up much, but the doc says this can take up to a year to rebound. Yep, that's why I am still so tired all of the time. All of this was very good news and very encouraging. My oncologist also released me to get my port removed (can't wait!) and handed over some anti-anxiety meds in case of future problems.
In answer to the question of "what now?", one doctors said try to eat a low fat diet and get five hours of cardio a week. (Yikes, current post-chemo cardio = zero hours per week.) The other doctor said you need to take care of yourself, when you want to sleep, sleep. When you want to yell, yell. Hmmm, which one's advice will I follow??? In response to both of these, Paul declared it the summer of Cara. The main goal this summer is for me to rest and get better so we can get on with our life. We know God has big plans for us ahead and we can't wait to get started -- all in good time.
"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him who have been called according to His purpose...If God is for us who can be against us?...in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us." Romans 8:28,31,37
Back to my story...I finished my radiation about a month ago. I thought I would feel triumphant, like a prize fighter who just won the championship. Nope, I started crying, could hardly get out of bed and really didn't know what was going on. Aggravating the situation, Paul was completely out of sympathy. I don't mean a little unsympathetic, I mean over it, nothing left, angry at me for crying. After a week of this, a friend finally urged me to call the doctor. For me, before I call the doctor, I always read the cancer books to see if the answer is in there. These books reside in a large stack in the corner of my bedroom. Turns out that what was happening to me was pretty common. I was having a sort of post traumatic stress reaction to finishing treatment. Since there was no longer any action to do to fight the cancer, I let down the dam and all of the emotions that I had been holding back for the last year in order to be able to deal with the treatment came flying out. Also, our life was (is) unrecognizable from a year ago and I had no idea how to get it going again. In addition, I was no longer getting the constant hand holding and reassurance from the medical staff; I felt scared and all alone. Later when we talked to one of my docs, she confirmed that this is perfectly normal and happens often. She even chuckled just a little when I told her what happened. Hmm, do you think one of you wise doctor types could have warned me about this? (Note on this, cancer doctors tend to not tell patients the whole truth about what may happen. I realize this is for my own good. If the doctor told me I was going to have a problem, chance are I would self fulfill that prophecy and make a problem for myself. I get it, I just don't have to like it.)So, I spent a week weeping, a week trying very hard to stop weeping (mostly unsuccessfully) and then started to come out of it.
The next week I began the follow-up round of doctor visits that seems to dominate my calendar this month. I also had a mammogram and a blood test. Both of these came back clear and indicate no signs of cancer. Hooray!! Also very important, my liver and kidneys seem to have survived the chemo and are back to functioning normally. Hooray again! My blood counts are hanging in there, not going up much, but the doc says this can take up to a year to rebound. Yep, that's why I am still so tired all of the time. All of this was very good news and very encouraging. My oncologist also released me to get my port removed (can't wait!) and handed over some anti-anxiety meds in case of future problems.
In answer to the question of "what now?", one doctors said try to eat a low fat diet and get five hours of cardio a week. (Yikes, current post-chemo cardio = zero hours per week.) The other doctor said you need to take care of yourself, when you want to sleep, sleep. When you want to yell, yell. Hmmm, which one's advice will I follow??? In response to both of these, Paul declared it the summer of Cara. The main goal this summer is for me to rest and get better so we can get on with our life. We know God has big plans for us ahead and we can't wait to get started -- all in good time.
"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him who have been called according to His purpose...If God is for us who can be against us?...in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us." Romans 8:28,31,37
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Progress
I had a much better week this week. Several things happened that make me know I am moving forward:
1. I smiled for real. Not the fake one I have been showing for months, but an actual, face is a representation of what I am feeling on the inside, smile.
2. I stayed out late. We went to the Spurs game, compliments of a sweet friend (thanks!), that didn't even start until after my normal bedtime. I made it all the way to through the 3rd quarter. Big progress. This was also the first time in a long time that Paul and I have been out at night past 8:30. A big step!
3. I wore a bra, for most of the day. I have been braless since the beginning of my radiation in February so this was a milestone.
Now the bad news, after days of smiling, yesterday I felt the hormone monster start to rear its ugly head again. Today I am edgy and cranky, as in, watch out if you leave your sock on the floor cranky. I am headed to the oncologist later this week, so I will definitely be having a talk with him about this issue. Along with managing my hormonally challenged emotions, right now I am trying to take it easier on myself and not be upset if I need to rest or sit down. I just do it. No more fighting and crying because I am not better instantly. (Ok, so that last part goes up in the good news section, don't you think?)
Next week I am planning to get my chemo couch potato self back to exercising regularly. This may prove to be very challenging. Many of my muscles seem to have gone on vacation due to significant lack of use. Wish me luck!
"There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven...a time to kill (cancer) and a time to heal...a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance." Ecclesiastes 3:1,3,4
1. I smiled for real. Not the fake one I have been showing for months, but an actual, face is a representation of what I am feeling on the inside, smile.
2. I stayed out late. We went to the Spurs game, compliments of a sweet friend (thanks!), that didn't even start until after my normal bedtime. I made it all the way to through the 3rd quarter. Big progress. This was also the first time in a long time that Paul and I have been out at night past 8:30. A big step!
3. I wore a bra, for most of the day. I have been braless since the beginning of my radiation in February so this was a milestone.
Now the bad news, after days of smiling, yesterday I felt the hormone monster start to rear its ugly head again. Today I am edgy and cranky, as in, watch out if you leave your sock on the floor cranky. I am headed to the oncologist later this week, so I will definitely be having a talk with him about this issue. Along with managing my hormonally challenged emotions, right now I am trying to take it easier on myself and not be upset if I need to rest or sit down. I just do it. No more fighting and crying because I am not better instantly. (Ok, so that last part goes up in the good news section, don't you think?)
Next week I am planning to get my chemo couch potato self back to exercising regularly. This may prove to be very challenging. Many of my muscles seem to have gone on vacation due to significant lack of use. Wish me luck!
"There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven...a time to kill (cancer) and a time to heal...a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance." Ecclesiastes 3:1,3,4
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Not Over Yet
I'll bet some of you thought because of the long silence and now that the treatment was over I was not going to write anymore. Wrong. I have just been busy, tired, overwhelmed, and had my kids writing reports (which is a serious hampering to blogging).
I have now been out of treatment a little over two weeks. These two weeks have been in a word - hard. Really hard. Shockingly hard. I think I expected that after I stopped getting treatment I would magically get better. Nope, I got worse. Also, I seem to have lost my purpose and focus. I was so focused on getting through the treatment and finishing. Now I am standing here, sick and wrecked, and thinking now what? How do I life my life? I can't even find my life. Also, the big security blanket of doctors and nurses and constant attention was yanked away from me. They left me out here on my own. On top of that, I started the new long term drug, Tamoxifen, which has been playing havoc with my body and hormones. I hope it is playing havoc with my hormones. If it is not the Tamoxifen, then I have completely lost my mind. And finally, since the treatment is done, people, including my husband (sorry dear), have start expecting more of me. But wait, I am still sick! Just now I don't seem to have an excuse. All of these things have combined to make me exhausted, discouraged, very cranky, and weepy. I feel as if depression is knocking at the back door, but I am definitely not opening that one even an inch. I desperately want to throw myself on God and depend on Him to take all of this away. And I am trying, really trying. But even this dependence requires a daily, hourly, minutely (is that a word?) focus and I am failing at it so often. I feel as if I fight this battle on all of these fronts every day and there is just no relief in sight.
I can't just leave you with the bad stuff...I do have good days. I am getting stronger, inch by inch. My head is clearing. My skin is healing. I am manging to have successful days at school with the kids most days. These are tiny life rafts that keep me afloat in the rough sea.
"The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and bloom...and the ransomed of the Lord will return. They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them and sorrow and sighing will flee away." Isaiah 35:1,10
I have now been out of treatment a little over two weeks. These two weeks have been in a word - hard. Really hard. Shockingly hard. I think I expected that after I stopped getting treatment I would magically get better. Nope, I got worse. Also, I seem to have lost my purpose and focus. I was so focused on getting through the treatment and finishing. Now I am standing here, sick and wrecked, and thinking now what? How do I life my life? I can't even find my life. Also, the big security blanket of doctors and nurses and constant attention was yanked away from me. They left me out here on my own. On top of that, I started the new long term drug, Tamoxifen, which has been playing havoc with my body and hormones. I hope it is playing havoc with my hormones. If it is not the Tamoxifen, then I have completely lost my mind. And finally, since the treatment is done, people, including my husband (sorry dear), have start expecting more of me. But wait, I am still sick! Just now I don't seem to have an excuse. All of these things have combined to make me exhausted, discouraged, very cranky, and weepy. I feel as if depression is knocking at the back door, but I am definitely not opening that one even an inch. I desperately want to throw myself on God and depend on Him to take all of this away. And I am trying, really trying. But even this dependence requires a daily, hourly, minutely (is that a word?) focus and I am failing at it so often. I feel as if I fight this battle on all of these fronts every day and there is just no relief in sight.
I can't just leave you with the bad stuff...I do have good days. I am getting stronger, inch by inch. My head is clearing. My skin is healing. I am manging to have successful days at school with the kids most days. These are tiny life rafts that keep me afloat in the rough sea.
"The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and bloom...and the ransomed of the Lord will return. They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them and sorrow and sighing will flee away." Isaiah 35:1,10
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Over !?!
Sorry to leave things hanging all week. I brilliantly assigned the kids some reports which kept them very busy this week. However, it also kept them occupying the computers all week. I had time to write, but unless I was going to type it in on my phone one letter at a time, I couldn't get to the Internet.
I woke up Monday (very, very early!) nervous. Really nervous, like throw up nervous. I was thinking I have spent a year of my life doing this and now what? I know I am not the same person I was before, but who am I? What am I going to do with all of my time? It was like I had been reborn and now I had a whole new life to start over with. I was nervous about this responsibility. In two hours of Bible Study (very, very early) God took that nervousness away and made me ready to enjoy the opportunity.
So, on Monday afternoon, I finished my radiation treatment. We were all so relived and happy. As before, I cried tears of joy as we left the building. Paul and several others commented that me face looked different after that, like the burden had been lifted.
Tuesday and Wednesday went very well. I was feeling good and was enjoying the freedom of a schedule not bound by radiation and naps (although I still take the naps, just not on a schedule). I started taking my long term estrogen blocker medicine, Tamoxifen. So far, so good.
Wednesday night crept in. I didn't sleep-too many hot flashes. Then Thursday hit. I woke up (warning this is very gross) with my nipple oozing and crusty from the radiation burn and peeling skin. Cleaning this up nearly made me pass out from the pain. AND I was tired on Thursday, so tired. I spent most of the day laying on the floor between the kids while they worked on the their reports. By Thursday night I was gloomy and I made the giant mistake of looking up things on the Internet. (Big caution here - if you know anyone who think they have cancer, has cancer, or any illness - stay off the Internet. I have never gotten any info there that has actually helped me, just freaks me out.) Well, I should have heeded my own words. On the Internet, the wise doctors from the Mayo Clinic counseled me to use as a rule of thumb the time from my initial doctor appointment until the end of treatment as the amount of time it would take me to feel better. Ok, my first doctor appointment was in March it is now April...13 months. Ummm, tears, big tears. I have written a blog about taking time to heal before, but to actually have an "expert" tell me I was going to feel bad for that long sent me reeling.
Friday I was feeling better, but frustrated. I really imagined that after treatment I would feel better. I know that it is the Tamoxifen that is making me feel bad now. Since it is messing with my hormones again, we may be in for another fun couple of months while I adjust to the drug. The real lesson of this week is it ain't over 'til it's over!
The beautiful thing is that now, there are no new treatment to slam my body and make it worse. Even though I will have good days and bad days, they are not going to to make me sick any more. Hooray and Hallelujah! I am fully aware that God helped the doctors find and remove the tumors, protected me and kept me strong during chemo, showed up every day to cover my heart and hold my hand during radiation, (not to mention died for me and gave me eternal life), so a little more hormone distress and tiredness are not too big for Him to handle. He is still with me every day, every minute.
Please keep us in your prayers. Paul and I are both worn out mentally and physically. While I contend with my physical symptoms, he works all day and then comes home to pick up the pieces of the house for the day. Also, girls with crazy hormones are no fun to live with, so please pray for us to have wisdom, patience and kindness with each other as my body learns to handle my drug. I can't thank you enough for praying, supporting and loving us along the road. You have been the very hands and feet of Jesus to us.
"Therefore if any person is ingrafted in Christ he is a new creation (a new creature altogether); the old has passed away. Behold, the fresh and new has come!" 2 Corinthians 5:17
I woke up Monday (very, very early!) nervous. Really nervous, like throw up nervous. I was thinking I have spent a year of my life doing this and now what? I know I am not the same person I was before, but who am I? What am I going to do with all of my time? It was like I had been reborn and now I had a whole new life to start over with. I was nervous about this responsibility. In two hours of Bible Study (very, very early) God took that nervousness away and made me ready to enjoy the opportunity.
So, on Monday afternoon, I finished my radiation treatment. We were all so relived and happy. As before, I cried tears of joy as we left the building. Paul and several others commented that me face looked different after that, like the burden had been lifted.
Tuesday and Wednesday went very well. I was feeling good and was enjoying the freedom of a schedule not bound by radiation and naps (although I still take the naps, just not on a schedule). I started taking my long term estrogen blocker medicine, Tamoxifen. So far, so good.
Wednesday night crept in. I didn't sleep-too many hot flashes. Then Thursday hit. I woke up (warning this is very gross) with my nipple oozing and crusty from the radiation burn and peeling skin. Cleaning this up nearly made me pass out from the pain. AND I was tired on Thursday, so tired. I spent most of the day laying on the floor between the kids while they worked on the their reports. By Thursday night I was gloomy and I made the giant mistake of looking up things on the Internet. (Big caution here - if you know anyone who think they have cancer, has cancer, or any illness - stay off the Internet. I have never gotten any info there that has actually helped me, just freaks me out.) Well, I should have heeded my own words. On the Internet, the wise doctors from the Mayo Clinic counseled me to use as a rule of thumb the time from my initial doctor appointment until the end of treatment as the amount of time it would take me to feel better. Ok, my first doctor appointment was in March it is now April...13 months. Ummm, tears, big tears. I have written a blog about taking time to heal before, but to actually have an "expert" tell me I was going to feel bad for that long sent me reeling.
Friday I was feeling better, but frustrated. I really imagined that after treatment I would feel better. I know that it is the Tamoxifen that is making me feel bad now. Since it is messing with my hormones again, we may be in for another fun couple of months while I adjust to the drug. The real lesson of this week is it ain't over 'til it's over!
The beautiful thing is that now, there are no new treatment to slam my body and make it worse. Even though I will have good days and bad days, they are not going to to make me sick any more. Hooray and Hallelujah! I am fully aware that God helped the doctors find and remove the tumors, protected me and kept me strong during chemo, showed up every day to cover my heart and hold my hand during radiation, (not to mention died for me and gave me eternal life), so a little more hormone distress and tiredness are not too big for Him to handle. He is still with me every day, every minute.
Please keep us in your prayers. Paul and I are both worn out mentally and physically. While I contend with my physical symptoms, he works all day and then comes home to pick up the pieces of the house for the day. Also, girls with crazy hormones are no fun to live with, so please pray for us to have wisdom, patience and kindness with each other as my body learns to handle my drug. I can't thank you enough for praying, supporting and loving us along the road. You have been the very hands and feet of Jesus to us.
"Therefore if any person is ingrafted in Christ he is a new creation (a new creature altogether); the old has passed away. Behold, the fresh and new has come!" 2 Corinthians 5:17
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Done
Just a quick update before I teach math - Treatment is over! My last zap was yesterday. Today I will start my long term maintenance medicine. I have a great sense of relief as well as a feeling of a huge task of healing ahead of me. Thanks for praying. Keep it up!!
Friday, April 9, 2010
Boys
It's Friday night, the kids are playing at a neighbor's, my husband is re-building the pool filter (don't ask), I have had a nap, dinner is cooked and I started looking around the house for something to do. So here I sit. I tell you this because usually before I write anything here, it had been rolling around in in my brain for a while but today you just get whatever spews out.
First the ever important score card -- 33 down -- 1 to go!!!!! Hooray! I am so ready to be done getting sicker and start getting better. BTW, boost hurts. Every day. And, the lady uses a Sharpie to draw on my very sensitive nipple scar. Every day. Boost also makes me very, very tired. Although the radiation is going to be over on Monday, I am sure the tired will continue well past that time.
One thing I am glad to be almost done with applying creme everywhere. This has become a family project. Since my back was being radiation as well as my front, I had to have help applying the creme three times a day. Well, since the boys are here with me, they got the job at least twice a day. After trying numerous times to keep myself covered and modest during creme application, I finally gave up. They were just going to have to see my naked breasts like all of the medical professionals in San Antonio already have done. At first, the boys argued over who had to do it. Then, it seemed as if they just didn't care anymore. This led Paul and I to have some strange discussions about how they would feel about breasts when they finally got to see some that didn't belong to their mother. Would the attitude be "been there, done that", what else have you got? My wise friend graciously assured me the breast are not like that at all. She promised me that Andrew and Ben, like all young men, would eventually view breasts as "seen one, want to see them all".
Aside from being able to discuss breasts without even cracking a smile (do you know any other 11 and 13 year olds that can do that?), the boys are doing very well. In the past few weeks they have really stepped up their activities to help around the house. They take on any job I ask (usually) willingly. Sweetly, in the last week or so, Andrew has been a little more worried about me. Remember the chemo eyes, with the dark circles? They are back. Apparently, when I look bad and start sleeping a lot, it bothers Andrew. So not only is he extra helpful, he is also extra upset if he thinks he has done something wrong or hurt me. I have gone out of my way to make sure he knows that I am OK. For Andrew, puberty mixed with a mom with cancer, has made it quite an exceptionally emotionally challenging year. But he is going to make some lucky girl a great husband some day, especially if she likes lotion on her back.
"Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him." James 1:12
First the ever important score card -- 33 down -- 1 to go!!!!! Hooray! I am so ready to be done getting sicker and start getting better. BTW, boost hurts. Every day. And, the lady uses a Sharpie to draw on my very sensitive nipple scar. Every day. Boost also makes me very, very tired. Although the radiation is going to be over on Monday, I am sure the tired will continue well past that time.
One thing I am glad to be almost done with applying creme everywhere. This has become a family project. Since my back was being radiation as well as my front, I had to have help applying the creme three times a day. Well, since the boys are here with me, they got the job at least twice a day. After trying numerous times to keep myself covered and modest during creme application, I finally gave up. They were just going to have to see my naked breasts like all of the medical professionals in San Antonio already have done. At first, the boys argued over who had to do it. Then, it seemed as if they just didn't care anymore. This led Paul and I to have some strange discussions about how they would feel about breasts when they finally got to see some that didn't belong to their mother. Would the attitude be "been there, done that", what else have you got? My wise friend graciously assured me the breast are not like that at all. She promised me that Andrew and Ben, like all young men, would eventually view breasts as "seen one, want to see them all".
Aside from being able to discuss breasts without even cracking a smile (do you know any other 11 and 13 year olds that can do that?), the boys are doing very well. In the past few weeks they have really stepped up their activities to help around the house. They take on any job I ask (usually) willingly. Sweetly, in the last week or so, Andrew has been a little more worried about me. Remember the chemo eyes, with the dark circles? They are back. Apparently, when I look bad and start sleeping a lot, it bothers Andrew. So not only is he extra helpful, he is also extra upset if he thinks he has done something wrong or hurt me. I have gone out of my way to make sure he knows that I am OK. For Andrew, puberty mixed with a mom with cancer, has made it quite an exceptionally emotionally challenging year. But he is going to make some lucky girl a great husband some day, especially if she likes lotion on her back.
"Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him." James 1:12
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