Quote:
Originally Posted by Tammy32
Nudge, Nudge.... Have a good day today Sarah.
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Alright, alright....you talked me into it! You'll be sorry, though!
I'm sick now, so I will try to be concise with the huge pile of stuff I have to report, because really should be resting. (My immune system is understandably lousy now, apparently, so I think like 15 minutes after being told that by my doctor yesterday, I picked up a head cold when going to pick up my x-ray and CT scan slides from the hospital where I had them taken. Sheesh!)
So my doc is switched to a woman out of Greater Baltimore Medical Center (voted I think #3 of the best hospitals in America in 2001 by Consumer Reports -- I still wish it were Johns Hopkins, but she came highly recommended.) I'm going to meet her next Wednesday, and on that day she'll either tell me my course of treatment (probably at least 6 months of chemo, followed by radiation) or schedule a biopsy or two to further establish staging (how far along it is.)
Tomorrow I get two tests: (1) a PET scan -- they inject radioactive fluid in you and then film you for up to 2 hours, and it will show all the places in my body the cancerous lymph nodes are present.
[Edited to change word from pleasant - which it's NOT - to present - which makes a lot more sense!] (Kind of cool, eh? And not cheap, at $5,000 -- thank God my insurance covers it.) And (2) another CT scan, to see my abdomen and pelvis -- helps with staging also.
Then on Thursday I get the stitches in my neck out -- the scar will be on the left side of my neck, right where the neck meets the shoulder, and is about an inch and a half long. Whatever.
I've already found the place where I'll get a wig; apparently they're very nice there and it's really professional and private and they'll even trim it on you, etc. For real hair, they can go up to like 800-900, but since Lymphoma patients have to have chemo for so much longer than other cancer fighters, the real hair is recommended because it lasts longer than the synthetic hair -- not to mention it's supposed to look better too. I'm going to get one that has the clear scalp base thing, so my own scalp shows through -- it's supposed to look more natural. My insurance will cover $350 of the cost. I'm going to cut my hair really short right before I start, so I don't have to go through the trauma of seeing big clumps of hair on my pillow. Then at the first sign of it coming out, I'm going to just shave the whole thing -- I couldn't bear to have little tufts, you know? I intend to have the wig ready for when that happens, so I'm all set up.
I'm in contact with the Lymphoma Research Foundation's buddy program, and once I have my course of treatment mapped out (the chemo-cocktail, number of 28-day courses, etc.) I will call up the nice woman there and tell her what it is, so she can match me up with someone who's been through it or something similar, and then we'll correspond or phone one another. They match the buddy to your needs, and I said I wanted a woman who's been through what I'm about to, so she can help me along the way. I'm sure at the end of it, I'll want to return the favor to the woman behind me.
My boss is in denial about my leaving work. She just doesn't believe it can be 6 months of chemo, but that's very common with Hodgkins. It's not like breast cancer....it's much, much longer. I'm getting ready for a fight to last 6 months to a year. And most of the people I've read about online who had Lymphoma and spoke of their chemo experiences said that they couldn't work while doing it, unlike some of their breast cancer-surviving friends. I guess it's just a lot heavier. It's definitely longer, and they say that the longer you do it, the more debilitatingly tired you get. Makes sense.
I'm going to get a "port" in my arm before my first chemo session. It's a
long arm catheter that allows them to inject the chemo medicines and remove blood without continually sticking you. It leaves a nice scar, so I'm going to have it inserted on my arm, rather than my chest. It can stay in there for a long time, and apparently saves you a lot of pain.
Lorraine is dealing with it differently than I. She acknowledges that she comes from a dysfunctional family that never talks about anything -- "If we don't talk about it, it's not really happening." So her comfort zone is, let's just have a nice time till the doctor tells us what's going to happen, and then we'll deal with it then. I, conversely, feel like I need to know what to expect, so I can prepare myself. Knowledge is power, and I need to try as best I can to build up my stores of preparedness. I know reading about it is not the same as living it, but I don't want to be freaking out when I get little bubbles on my hands and sores in my mouth and have to ask Lorraine to give me shots in my hip -- when all of those things I'm now know are part of this process. She understands my way of dealing with it, and I understand hers, and we're both compromising a little while each getting what we need. So, for instance, I'm not doing any research when we can spend time together, and I'm not bombarding her with the information I'm getting (like she doesn't know yet about that port, which will totally skeeve her.) And she's casually asking to see the books I now have on chemo, nutrition while on chemo, and lymphoma -- and she's quietly checking them out a little bit. She went with me to the doc's yesterday and was a champ. I had a small scuffle with one of the nurses because she didn't want Lorraine to come in because she's not "family," but I insisted, and I wouldn't go in without her, and then my doc heard about it and told her Lorraine should be treated like my spouse and we were all good again. It made me sick, and served as a reminder that I'm going to have to lay the groundwork for respect of our relationship with all the other medical personnel I have before me.
Again, thank you and thank you and thank you for all of your kindness -- I hope this post wasn't too depressing. Lorraine got the doc to give me some Zoloft to lift my spirits, but I don't think I need them. She's concerned that I cry in the middle of the night......and I think that's perfectly natural and kind of comes with the territory. It's part of the grieving process, right? I don't feel debilitated by it because I'm still laughing and smiling, and facing the disease with optimism and MAJOR hunger for knowledge. I imagine I'll become depressed as I progress with the chemo and feel isolated, etc. But for now, I'm ok. In fact, I think I'm going to slip HER those little pills, because I hear they help you to quit smoking and getting pissed off by little stuff!
Now I WILL tell you that if I end up in the weight GAIN group of chemoheads, I will NOT be a happy camper.
But I'm just going to cross that bridge if and when I come to it.
Thanks again, and I hope all of you are doing well! So much for being brief, eh?