Wordless

5/8 there

This is temporary. Nothing lasts forever. This is a kind reminder to myself and you too. I'm kind of freaking out right now and hoping to get relief from this roller coaster soon.
The second half of chemo began today. The experienced nurse couldn't successfully get the first IV in. Every time this happens, the tears flow from my sparsely eye lash studded eyes despite the fact that they tear constantly for the past two months. The fear of having an allergic reaction was overwhelming, and my body did react. My arm was red in the hand and veins, there was blotchiness on my palms, and my veins hurt throughout the four hour infusion. I was grateful to have my friend drive me in, and two other wonderful women joined us throughout the day even though the tiredness consumed me. They truly made the long day bearable.
Halloween was postponed until tonight due to an executive order by the governor of NJ due to the hurricane. It was another great distraction to be with good friends and bubbly children. I loved dressing us all up. It was good to be outside for a change especially in such invigorating weather.
When we came home, and things went down hill. My heart has been palpitating or having an odd rhythm, which usually happens from the steroids. Although I'm worried that it could caused by the new Taxol drug. The digestive issues I had tonight were debilitating. I'm anxious, and I can't sleep.
Time to put on the meditation. I have a busy day being a mom, and I'll be exhausted from lack of sleep and chemo. There's so much to do- driving Talon to and from school, drawing, voting, taking poor Precious to the vet. Cooking, cleaning... You know busy mommy suites.
Besides, I have so much work planned this week. Why do I do this to myself? I don't know how my body will react or if I can handle it all because of the new drug. I can only hope that this cold will go away and I won't get the serious, painful side effects. We don't have help this week because my mother in law is away because her family member died of cancer. It's difficult not to feel guilty for being unable to work at my full capacity. I guess I do it because I just want things to be normal even though I must accept my new normal. I haven't gotten there quite yet.

Despite the fears that I've faced today, I've intermittently experienced overwhelming bouts of love and gratitude. The support that my family and I have received, today and in the past - the gifts, the care, the kind words, the amazing out pouring of prayers, positive thoughts, and healing energy directed to us by you. Despite the tragedy of having had breast cancer there has been so much good to come out of this. I'm so lucky to be shown, through my own eyes, the amazing abundance of kindness that man can give. I can do this.

Halfway to the finish line

What a relief that we're done with the red devil, the Adriamycin and Cytoxan. Even though last time I forgot to take my Neulasta shot, which causes your body to produce a surge of white blood cells since the chemo destorys them, the day after last chemo. My body apparently recovered on its own. My white blood cell count was actually higher than the last time I received therapy and took the shot. Now that this stint is done, I can't stand to see any bright red liquids. If you come at me with red Gatorade, Kool Aid or grenadine colored drink, I might commence puking like Regan from the Exorcist. The image of the Adriamycin being slowly pushed into an IV into my arm, haunts me.

Happy Halloween.

Even though Halloween has been rescheduled to Friday due to Hurricane Sandy, we have a lot to celebrate. We lost power for nearly 24 hours, but there was no damage here at the Beyer residence. The kids were going stir crazy, hence we we're going insane. Yet all of the food and breast milk kept well. We were prepared enough. Through my everyday pain from chemotherapy, physical limitations and more pain due to the mastectomy and having an expander in the right side, I still remember what I'm grateful for what I have. I refuse to let the "have not's" consume me especially through times of natural disaster. Other folks weren't so lucky to be left unscathed. Well wishes and safe thoughts to every one out there who has been affected by this tremendous Frankenstorm.

This upcoming Monday, we move on to Taxol for four treatments. It's a long infusion, 240 minutes. We will be at UPenn all day. If anyone is bored and wants to hang out, let me know or I will be forced to spend the whole day with my husband.

I'm nervous about the Taxol. Although I hear that some people don't experience side effects as bad as the AC, I have heard about other women's allergic reactions during infusion. This isn't the usual hives or sneezing. We're talking about anaphylactic shock. Certainly that's one of my greatest fears. Let's hope that I don't have as many side effects. Right now my list of issues is staggering besides battling a sinus infection, coughing, cold thing. Fingers crossed, the show will go on next Monday.

Case of the Mondays

A week and a half ago was chemo treatment 3/8. 3 out of 4 Acdromycin/Cytoxan treatments, the bad ass infusions. Only one more AC, and then Taxol four times. Chemo sucks. At the thought of it, I get nauseous.

On that last chemo Monday the first nurse couldn't find a vein. I'll learn to stop someone before they stick me if they say something negative about my veins like, "You have slim pickens." Next time I know. It's questionable if my veins are going to make it until the end before I need a port. Perhaps those physical therapy exercises will come in handy to pump them up. They can only stick the left side since the cancer was in the right, and they removed a lymph node a week after the diagnosis for dissection. I didn't want the commitment of a port, but your veins start to retract once you start pumping them with these infusions. The thought of this isn't very pleasing. I have a bruise where they got me last week. That can't be good.

The battle with side effects is driving me nuts. At this point, the hair loss is nothing. The medicine destroys fast growing cells such as cancer, but the whole GI tract from mouth to the bottom can be wreaked in havoc. You will be spared the gruesome details, but let it be known that it's been painful, uncomfortable, and almost unbearable. I was crawling out of my own skin on Monday, the other day. It doesn't help that I contracted a stomach bug for two days of living hell.

Nail growth is at a stand still. They're soft and peeling at the ends. My thumbs are beginning to turn black at the base of the nail. I keep them painted in hopes that no one will see and preserving what's left. They're soft and tender, and they keep on creeping shorter and shorter each day. Gone are the days of strong, long pregnancy nails.

Thankfully I haven't lost taste like most people do. The diet hasn't been my top priority. My body is so uncomfortable that I find solace in food. Eating something that tastes good gives me comfort and a moment of happiness when my body isn't feeling so hot. Green, raw foods don't bring me to that happy place. I thought I would be spared the mouth sores, but I just discovered two in my mouth minutes ago. This could effect the taste, and this could be bad.

It's weird when your mind doesn't sync with your body. You have a list of errands, a thousand things to do because you have a baby and a preschooler, but you're too nauseous to accomplish them. You want to go to work because you love what you, have a list of clients to tattoo, and need to make money to help support your family, but you can't leave the bathroom. Your baby is crying, your son wants lunch and your so unbelievably itchy that you want to scream the F word as loud as you can. Welcome to my world.

Then a good day will come. I woke up and did 1000 things because the baby actually slept 9 consecutive hours so that means I got 8. The chemo fog had lifted so I cleaned, ran around doing errands, cooked dinner for friends, and went to my son's parent teacher night. True happiness and genuine smiles were spread across my face because I was at the bottom of a swamp only two days ago. I can appreciate a day like today because I felt so.... normal.

Hair today, Gone tomorrow

We did it. My little friend, Regan, and wonderful hairstylist, Audrey, buzzed the rest of my hair off. Talon had his done first, and then Josh did his afterwards. We spared Joslyn from the shaving party since she already has a short cut. We all match. It was a nice "head shaving party". What a relief since it's been killing me. When you lose your hair from chemo, it hurts. This started happening to me on Sunday. The little kamikaze hairs jumped ship and we're slowly slipping out of the follicules. There was an urge to run my fingers through it to pull it out. It was worse than having a healing, itchy tattoo with flakes of skin coming off of it. It was beyond a tingling, tickling sensation. Now I look like I'm ready for boot camp.

My hair is so thick that no one said they noticed I was losing it, but I can. Normally you wouldn't be able to see my scalp… ever. Not even in a part on my head. That's how much hair I usually have. Now it's Friday, and it's still coming out with a vengeance. It's getting patchy and noticeable so yesterday I got a wig from Martino Cartier Salon in Washington Township, NJ. You might remember that I wrote about him before in a previous blog. He was on Tabitha's Salon Takeover. He started the Friends are by your Side charity that gives hair services, wigs, and extensions to cancer patients. There are approximately 500 participating salon's around the country. He thinks there should be more, and so do I. If you own a salon and want to participate, please go to the link for more information. I love the wig. It's so natural, and now I can rock a feminine look if I want to .

In more hair news, Audrey, the stylist that shaved my head, is running a fundraiser to benefit our family at the salon she works at in Philadelphia called Volume Hair Studio in Rittenhouse Square. She's doing PINK hair extensions in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness month, and the proceeds will help to pay off our debt incurred from medical bills and other expenses due to the breast cancer surgery and treatment. Please call ahead to book your appointments She books up fast especially during the weekends.

I'm losing it

Ugh.... my hair is falling out....

I've been running my fingers through it for the past week more often than usual. The docs told me around day 17 after my first chemotherapy infusion, the locks would start to shed. It's the dose and type of chemo I'm getting. It happens to everyone who gets this type of chemo. Even though I tried EFT and praying and meditating and visualization. It's not coming out by the 3 or 4 strands per stroke anymore. It's way worse than that now.

In the wee hours of this morning, there's significant pieces and possibly clumps of hairs coming out. The question is, what do I do? Do I shave my head like many other women that face this hurdle through chemotherapy? Are we going to have a head shaving party with my husband and maybe son or whomever wants to join in? Invite only. It's my party so I can cry if I want to.

The other option would be to see how much falls out and how long it takes. The docs said bald, but I still hold on to the idea that I could be spared of my luscious mane. I really wish I could. I already cut my mop short. Couldn't this be enough? Perhaps I'll wait and see how much falls out before I go all the way. Let's hope it spares my eyelashes and brows and even my nose filaments because those have purpose. Yet if the down is gone in those unwanted areas, that could be a bonus. Some survivors have told me that my head might start to hurt once a majority has come out. I just brushed it and it's disturbing how much was in the brush.

The nurse practitioner for the oncologist said that she wondered why people were so concerned about hair loss instead of all of the other side effects. She has no idea. She doesn't have cancer nor did she lose her breasts, have an infection, replacement surgery, and finally nothing on her chest at all. She has her hair, her health, and I'm sure she sleeps. It's just easier to talk about then all of the other side effects. The other embarrassing and uncomfortable reactions that arise from this chemical infusion aren't as easy to converse about.

Our society is driven by vanity. That makes it tough for those of us going through chemotherapy to keep up with the Jones'. Two down, six more to go. The last infusion is planned for my daughter's first birthday if all goes as planned. I might sport a wig, a hat or a scarf and apply some make up in an attempt to fit into the mortal world until I'm ready to join in again after treatment has ceased.

Surgery revisited

It's odd how one day you can feel so positive and then the next day a huge wave of sorrow comes crashing down upon you. Welcome to yesterday - a day of sadness, disappointment, and setbacks. A diversion from my great plan that was going so well after the infection had cleared up. I'd adopted a new perspective coming from the depths of bottoming out. For awhile I was on a pink cloud, floating and loving life and enjoying the little things.

The night before I had broken sleep, and I woke up every hour sweating and anxious. Then the morning came. I couldn't find anything. Everyone annoyed me. Perhaps it was some kind of psychic premonition tickling my senses. Something just wasn't right.

It took forever to get ready to take Talon to school. Then when I finally got into the car, I dropped my phone into a fresh vat of vegetable juice with beets. The bloody colored juice sprayed every where, and it appeared as if a gunshot had gone off, killing someone in its path. It stained the whitish grey clothes I wore, me hands, the car, and various other items in the mess called my car. I hope no one noticed that I looked like a violent murderer while I dropped my son off to his hippie school.

Afterwards I got gas, and I even made it to my appointment only 5 minutes late. Things were looking better. My phone even still worked.

The nurse got the saline injections ready to pump my fake breasts up another size. Then the Dr came in unfashionably late over an hour, examined the incision, and broke me the bad news. He mentioned that the expander was exposed and now "colonized" because it was in contact with the air. Well duh.... It was like that a month ago?! What had changed?? The nurses even brought it up to me then. He said, "Yeah but there was a stitch in it."

So.... It didn't count when it touched the air 4 weeks ago? Perhaps you were overbooked and too busy to remember that was a problem and preferred to make me wait 6 weeks to break my bad news and set me back further in my treatment. Perhaps you should spend more than one day in the office with patients so that you can give them the care and compassion they deserve? Or perhaps you're sick of your job and have to keep doing to pay for your extravagant lifestyle - the Prada shoes you wear at office visits gives that away. Why did he approve me two weeks ago to start chemo if the expander was showing all this time?

He said that we had to remove the tissue expander as I lay there on the examination table with my shirt off, my nippleless mounds exposed. I put my hands over my eyes and sobbed uncontrollably. He silently fumbled for a box of tissues and gave me a tissue. I didn't feel much compassion from him... as usual. But I will let him remove this implant. Then it's over.

Dear Dr, You're fired after your remove the damn thing tomorrow. It's not me, it's you. You've had more than enough chances. Good riddance.

Now I'll be flat on one side. As if I wasn/t already challenged with my new self identity with small, nippleless, scarred, wannabe breasts. Now I will become accustomed to one flat and one round bump on my chest. I won't be able to do chemo for some time again. I won't be able to work or hold my baby, drive, or tattoo.... again. I try to be strong like everyone suggests, but it's so hard when I keep getting slapped in the face.