So, last things first. I am now going to be referring to the past 7+ months as This Whole Cancer Thing, or TWCT.
As for the skin, it is much improved. There is still this teeeeeeny red area, and I am still glooping it, because when I stop various seams and edgings rub it in an uncomfortable way. But for most of the day, I don't even think about it.
As for me, well, I am discovering the difference between "having a functioning immune system" and "having an immune system that works in a body with little to no actual resistance." I am on antibiotics again, for the sinuses, and a steriodal nasal spray as well. It's just going to take a while before that part of this human system is fully armed again.
Follow-up visit with the radiologist is set for 2/6!
Subscribe To
Posts
All Comments
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Oww Again
I was back at the clinic today, because the skin under my arm has turned into a red and weeping ooze that sticks to everything, including me, making crusts that I tear off whenever I move. Which made me realize, once again, that health care professionals are different from other folks.
"It looks great!" said the nurse and the doctor, as they scanned the four-inch-square area of sticky, shiny, redness. "You're keeping it really clean." The greenish gop on the pad I'd been wearing? Totally normal. The white, pimply dots? New skin cells trying to grow.
I am to keep it as moist as possible for the next week. This includes wearing a bra to bed to hold all the various layers of "product" in place. And I have chucks to lie on, so I don't totally wreck the sheet and mattress pad. It should be much improved by next week, when I am to go again.
I have faith, because the rest of me is, in fact, much improved. But it does hurt, and the ointment and pads don't really help all that much.
Which brings a somber thought. The radiation burns and the weariness I am dealing with are as less than nothing compared to what happened to the people of Hiroshima and Nagasaki who survived the initial blast. Many sides to that thought...
"It looks great!" said the nurse and the doctor, as they scanned the four-inch-square area of sticky, shiny, redness. "You're keeping it really clean." The greenish gop on the pad I'd been wearing? Totally normal. The white, pimply dots? New skin cells trying to grow.
I am to keep it as moist as possible for the next week. This includes wearing a bra to bed to hold all the various layers of "product" in place. And I have chucks to lie on, so I don't totally wreck the sheet and mattress pad. It should be much improved by next week, when I am to go again.
I have faith, because the rest of me is, in fact, much improved. But it does hurt, and the ointment and pads don't really help all that much.
Which brings a somber thought. The radiation burns and the weariness I am dealing with are as less than nothing compared to what happened to the people of Hiroshima and Nagasaki who survived the initial blast. Many sides to that thought...
Friday, January 6, 2012
ONE!
Today, as I drove home from my last radiation treatment, the sky was a bright, BRIGHT Pepto-Bismol pink and Kool-Aid purple, the kind of garish display only the Almighty can get away with. And I was glad to have that be the only kind of pink in my life.
Previously, I lay for the last time under the blank gaze of the Varian Clinac machine, got a nice certificate from the technicians, and was showered with confetti. I brought them goodies from Whole Foods, and a smaller selection to share with my fellow zappees. I have follow-up appointments, but no more treatments.
No.More.Treatments.
And earlier this morning, I saw a surgeon at Brigham and Women's. I do not need surgery. It turns out that very few of these small hernias give trouble. I've probably had it for some time and not noticed it. I can do anything, eat anything, go anywhere... and come back if it gives me trouble.
We celebrated with hot chocolate and rum.
I don't know what my oncologist wants for a follow-up regimen, but that's also just a follow-up. I am not closing this blog yet, as I want to get through a couple of months while the billing settles down, but...
No. More. Treatments. No. More. Surgery.
It's hard to describe the relief. I feel as if vast amounts of time have been returned to me, not to mention spring, summer, fall, and winter.
(For those who asked, I have no follow-up chemo. That's for you folks with hormonally responsive tumors. I got the brutal ride up front; alas, you get the long slog of less difficult but still, not trouble-free daily medication.)
Previously, I lay for the last time under the blank gaze of the Varian Clinac machine, got a nice certificate from the technicians, and was showered with confetti. I brought them goodies from Whole Foods, and a smaller selection to share with my fellow zappees. I have follow-up appointments, but no more treatments.
No.More.Treatments.
And earlier this morning, I saw a surgeon at Brigham and Women's. I do not need surgery. It turns out that very few of these small hernias give trouble. I've probably had it for some time and not noticed it. I can do anything, eat anything, go anywhere... and come back if it gives me trouble.
We celebrated with hot chocolate and rum.
I don't know what my oncologist wants for a follow-up regimen, but that's also just a follow-up. I am not closing this blog yet, as I want to get through a couple of months while the billing settles down, but...
No. More. Treatments. No. More. Surgery.
It's hard to describe the relief. I feel as if vast amounts of time have been returned to me, not to mention spring, summer, fall, and winter.
(For those who asked, I have no follow-up chemo. That's for you folks with hormonally responsive tumors. I got the brutal ride up front; alas, you get the long slog of less difficult but still, not trouble-free daily medication.)
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Three and Two!
I saw a doctor yesterday. My skin looks to me like it's a mess, and it certainly feels messy, but they continue to be rather pleased.
Things I learned:
Yesterday there was the same problem with getting the positioning right, but this time everything went well. Some of my fellow zappees are begging me to bring in champagne tomorrow, and I just might see about it!
I will be having a follow-up visit in a couple of weeks to check the skin, and there's still all the hernia stuffs, and I have to have a review by my medical onc, so it's not "over" yet. But, unlike many others, I have no more chemo to do. Whew.
Things I learned:
- Once things heal up, my skin will continue to flake and itch for about two months. This means I will be applying heavy-duty moisturizer for all that time, in order to not look like a gorilla with fleas. Joy. But, on the other hand, things should stop hurting fairly soon (though they can worsten as the skin continues to react to the radiation). JOY!
- Even though my skin will eventually look just fine, it is deeply, deeply damaged. Sunburn will be like having radiation all over again, with breakdown, peeling, etc. To be avoided at nearly any cost.
Yesterday there was the same problem with getting the positioning right, but this time everything went well. Some of my fellow zappees are begging me to bring in champagne tomorrow, and I just might see about it!
I will be having a follow-up visit in a couple of weeks to check the skin, and there's still all the hernia stuffs, and I have to have a review by my medical onc, so it's not "over" yet. But, unlike many others, I have no more chemo to do. Whew.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Countdown: Five and Four!
I didn't post yesterday because of a slight contretemps.
Yesterday morning, as I was performing my ablutions, I noticed a small, puffy, blobby thing just within the wall of my navel. Some mad scrambling was required to 1) book an appointment with the Urgent Care people for my health plan, since it was a holiday, and 2) re-schedule the zapping so I could do both things.
The result, confirmed today by my PCP: I have a small umbilical hernia. So much for "no health crises in 2012". It will require surgical repair, so I am seeing a surgeon on Friday. Turns out that the small ones are more dangerous than the large ones -- the large ones can usually be manipulated back where they belong and the abdominal wall just closes up, but the small ones are in danger of strangulation, which is just as nasty as it sounds.
Thank God my mother, who was a nurse, told me about all this stuff.
I must admit that initially, discovering the hernia really, really distressed me. This is because the way my mother's progression towards death began was with abdominal surgery to remove an impaction; in the process and unbeknownst to them, the surgeons removed a very small tumor. That tumor turned out to be the "master tumor" that was inhibiting the growth of a whole slew of other tiny tumors outside her bowel, caused by a bout of ulcerative colitus when she was a teenager.
I don't have any of that, and this surgery is most likely a minor day surgery. But for a few moments there the boat of my soul was adrift, as the ancient writers have it.
However, those moments are past. The good news is that the doctors agree the surgery can wait until I am done with the zaps, so at least one problem will be resolved before the next commences.
The zap yesterday went forward without incident. The zap today was more complex. For some reason, there were issues getting the machine to understand that I was placed properly, and then they had to take the weekly positioning pictures, so I spent about 20 minutes on the table and kept four people waiting behind me. I do hope the last three are less interesting.
I've had quite a bit of peeling under the arm, but it looks a bit better -- lots of new skin.
And tomorrow I am actually going to try and go into work and work a half-day!
Yesterday morning, as I was performing my ablutions, I noticed a small, puffy, blobby thing just within the wall of my navel. Some mad scrambling was required to 1) book an appointment with the Urgent Care people for my health plan, since it was a holiday, and 2) re-schedule the zapping so I could do both things.
The result, confirmed today by my PCP: I have a small umbilical hernia. So much for "no health crises in 2012". It will require surgical repair, so I am seeing a surgeon on Friday. Turns out that the small ones are more dangerous than the large ones -- the large ones can usually be manipulated back where they belong and the abdominal wall just closes up, but the small ones are in danger of strangulation, which is just as nasty as it sounds.
Thank God my mother, who was a nurse, told me about all this stuff.
I must admit that initially, discovering the hernia really, really distressed me. This is because the way my mother's progression towards death began was with abdominal surgery to remove an impaction; in the process and unbeknownst to them, the surgeons removed a very small tumor. That tumor turned out to be the "master tumor" that was inhibiting the growth of a whole slew of other tiny tumors outside her bowel, caused by a bout of ulcerative colitus when she was a teenager.
I don't have any of that, and this surgery is most likely a minor day surgery. But for a few moments there the boat of my soul was adrift, as the ancient writers have it.
However, those moments are past. The good news is that the doctors agree the surgery can wait until I am done with the zaps, so at least one problem will be resolved before the next commences.
The zap yesterday went forward without incident. The zap today was more complex. For some reason, there were issues getting the machine to understand that I was placed properly, and then they had to take the weekly positioning pictures, so I spent about 20 minutes on the table and kept four people waiting behind me. I do hope the last three are less interesting.
I've had quite a bit of peeling under the arm, but it looks a bit better -- lots of new skin.
And tomorrow I am actually going to try and go into work and work a half-day!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)