Today (Wednesday, February 22 - I don't know where this blog thing gets these dates and times sometimes...) went well. My blood work came back up with a nice bounce and I told Scott if anyone ever tried to poison me with rat poison in increments to beware - it appears if you miss some "dosing" my body does a very nice rebound when almost taken out. Something to think on here folks.
The white blood cell counts are still below normal, but high enough to do chemo. I was back in.
When I get my chemo, they do three "pre-meds": #1 is a high dose IV steroid and although they have been able to step that dose down due to my body's severe hatred of it, it still bothers me and also helps me greatly. Two weeks ago I was awake for almost two days straight with it -- but it greatly suppresses a body's reaction to all things your body hates about chemo, so it is a temporary good. Today the nurse took a nice long 12 minutes to administer it (sweet girl), so I think the #2 pre-med won the day - injectable Benadryl.
I used to take 25 - 50mg of Benadryl to sleep every night so was not too impressed initially with the dose being given, but put that same 50mg into an injection and it is like snooze "wonder-land" for a bit. And today it made me sleep until like 11pm. I remember eating a big late lunch (the good part of steroids and their "after-bump" for some 30 plus hours), and I remember taking a walk with Scott holding my hand most of the way so I would not wander off with the geese, but that's about it. I just now woke up (11pm) to *ahem* stay on my anti-nausea regime that they reminded me of today again and catch up on some water intake.
The third pre-med they give you - and along with the steroids I can almost tell you the very minute it wears off like 30 hours later - is an anti-nausea injection.
They are all good "helps" on your body's reaction to chemo - especially when the dose kinks are worked out nicely like today. They have their side effects as well, but when one is dumping rather large doses of lethal substances into one's body, you do what you gotta do to stay the course. (I just keep remembering that there have been lots of others and years and years of trial and error on this 'pre-med "help"- so I am grateful for that 30 hours of help. )
*******
Last Wednesday when my blood work results came back for the second time as being too low to get my chemo treatment, I was devastatingly upset again, but found that I was also just plain old *mad*.
Like Scots-Irish blood line meets German blood line fighting mad. I finally found a little bit of backbone quivering behind me and decided I was going to step up my methodology, use the angry parts of my ancient ancestral DNA - along with a few brain cells - and plot some attack time on this evil invader.
The NP that told me the results gave only a little advice on how to bulk up my WBC numbers -- saying again "you can't really", and the ever retold "it just takes time", but she also said "walk". She said sometimes energy produces energy and helps some.
I told Scott on the way home "so I get the 'can't have coffee' and 'walk even when they almost kill you' cancer".
I was a little bit pouty as well, maybe.....
I had been doing some cardio workouts on my "good" days, but had felt so horrid after "highest-dose-tolerable-carbo-hell" week that I had not been barely able to get out of bed, let alone put one foot in front of another. Plus, after the way I have felt the last few weeks, I was just a little afraid of getting a half mile out from home and maybe not be able to make it back on bad days.
Even if I get my blood work climbing up high enough to do chemo, it is still almost half of what it should be. So fatigue is kind of the name of the game.
(And the ever present germ watch. I am getting paranoid two times over. When this is all over I may just fill a bathtub up with hand sanitizer and swim in it I am that attached to it now.)
But the walk idea had me, plus, it is in this cancer's actual info sheet "regular exercise has been shown to help". Help recurrence rates, help kill it off a little now. Just help.
A friend of mine was texting me that day. She does half-marathons and marathons like some people walk into the grocery store - she makes it look easy. But I know she works really hard at it. She runs lots of miles every day. She is tall and beautiful with no makeup and is just a great athlete. And pretty smart.
We have talked about Lance Armstrong before - we were both a little disappointed in him, but on the other hand you cannot deny his courage and "be-strong" attitude towards cancer.
So she sent me this text when she knew I was devastated beyond words -- it said: "Quoting Lance Armstrong (then she "asterisked" a naughty word) but this is what he said and she was quoting him, " **** cancer. Stay strong and I love u!!" Then she said some funny things which made me laugh.
But she has been telling me to 'stay strong' the whole time - and I know what she means - she knows I am in for the "marathon" of my life, and she knows what it takes to mentally keep in the race. So she gives me good words of encouragement that only athletes understand.
And it clicked with me. I had another old school friend tell me to "reach in and find my rage and fury that you feel before you run on the football field". And that clicked with me too, finally. I am not so much an athlete, and would have no idea what to do on a football field except scream; but on the other hand I have spent a good chunk of my whole life following my coaching husband around, and was pretty strong when young, so that I 'get' that.
So each day this past week I have been going out with my "coach" to walk-jog our 1 mile loop. I used to do that quite regularly early in the morning and I used to call it a "waggle" - it's a walk + jog + and I'm afraid a whole lot of jiggle going on out there on that little one mile loop .
But I used to run most of that mile, now 3/10 of a mile jog feels like my lungs have collapsed and my heart is ready to beat through my ribs. So, I don't push the jog part too much.
Friends of ours brought us a treadmill to use. I plan to use it. I better use it, they went to not a little bit of trouble to get me set up here.
I plan to fight this thing. My ire is up.
I have redesigned my dining room so I cannot miss it in the morning. It's beside the door that I can open up and breathe in cold fresh air, and just go. If I can do a half mile on chemo days, that equals a bonus. If I can sit down and rest and do a whole mile, awesome. I might be in bed the rest of the day, but I plan to *walk*.
This might be some, oh say, "didn't have chemo for 11 days" bravado talking here. But it doesn't matter. I have to.
It appears to be working - my blood work bounced back a little higher than it did the last time I was rejected for chemo treatment. (Scott made me a pretty luscious cake on Sunday too, so he attributes some of that to his awesome baking skills and me eating sugar again and drinking lots of milk with it) I also lost two pounds which they did not quibble over so much when I told them the reason. (the "waggling" not the cake part)
Now I just need a couple of people (Steph and Steve - you know who you are) reminding me of this *fighting spirit* of sorts come Friday. And Saturday. And Sunday. I'm no athlete. But there is a unique blood line in me that is finally stepping out to meet this foe.
And a few words from friends.
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