One Down—Five to Go

Where do I even start? It has been a little over a week, but it has gone by in a flash getting everything marshalled and ready to dive into the process of killing off the bad cells again. Plus, the added complication with the leg infection. Which might be a good place to start.

The Right Calf

The oncologist put me on an antibiotic to reduce not only the fever, but the swelling, redness, and blistery activity under the surface covering my entire right calf. The fever went away immediately and hasn’t come back, which meant the chemo could proceed on the 7th, barring any return. The infection hasn’t responded quite as well. Though I saw a reduction in coloring and the swelling had subsided a little, and it covered only the lower half of the calf, it was still tender to the touch and hanging about. The odd thing was that, though the redness had significantly decreased, when we arrived at the oncologist’s office prior to chemo start, when she checked it, it was bright red again (still only half). I’m going to figure that since my allergies were on high alert, it was some sort of systemic allergy running through me attacking the weakened areas.

Part of the protocol I’m on is a high dose of steroid, and that is knocking the rest of the infection/inflammation out, so I doubt it will be an issue for long.

The Miracle

While the calf issue may be a bit of a negative (on the run now), it has been offset by something that can only be described as an absolute miracle. In 2021, when I had a similar tumor (the drama queen) near the same place, it reduced quickly once the pre-infusion meds were started (one month prior to infusions starting) and it was gone before I hit the chemo chair. That was unexpected and amazing … BUT THIS is in the miracle category. The day following my visit with the oncologist, where we were all extremely pleased about only ONE tumor to kill, the tumor was SMALLER!!! Every day, it shrunk a bit more. No medication (except an antibiotic for the calf), so my beleaguered immune system gathered the remaining troops and launched an attack. My fighters may be few, but they are MIGHTY.

The tumor didn’t disappear completely, that was a big ask for a week, but it did reduce by over 50%, so my spirits have been soaring. One question that I have been asked is whether we should wait and see what happened with the tumor instead of continuing on with the chemo. The answer is that even if it had reduced to the point of being undetectable, chemo would still need to proceed to ensure ALL rogue cells have been dealt with. In 2021, though the tumor had disappeared using an oral protocol, we still forged ahead with the infusion therapy for the same reason (plus there were more tumors that had to go.) This morning, after the completed first protocol, though still detectable, the tumor is reaching the point where I won’t be able to detect it for much longer. Which pleases me a lot!!!!

The Chemo

I have nothing but praise for the chemo nurse team. They are attentive, caring, work together, and constantly aware, regardless of what else is going on at the time.

It is usual for the first treatment to be broken into two days since they need to test each patient’s ability to withstand the treatment. What that requires is slowing the drip, then speeding it up at intervals and checking for reactions, which adds a lot of time to the process. Since it is a known factor that I DO react to one of the drugs in the protocol, that once again was tested and based on my history, it was decided that ALL future treatments will be given over two days instead of trying to force them into one. While I did quite well with the other drugs they had to test, the initial test may not show the full picture (the one I know I react to I did fine with the testing period the first time, but when they ran it at “normal” speed, I had the reaction.)

One additional factor—my immune system will require boosting since it is already too low, and the protocol I’m on will destroy what little I have left, so next week I go for my first immune system boost, which will then happen every 4 weeks.

The niceties

From experience, I tend to go pack mule on chemo days. I bring my laptop so I can work on something, usually not requiring a great deal of thought because I won’t have it as the brain fog descends, or I can pull up a show or movie for simple entertainment. In CA, they had iPads for recreational purposes, and here they have individual TVs, but I prefer my own. I bring a blanket (two purposes) because as the chemo proceeds, my internal thermostat will go on the blink and I’ll alternate cold and hot, AND it helps to keep the laptop from burning my lap.

In addition to the blanket and laptop, I bring a thermos of tea, a thermos of bone broth, and a bottle of water. The nurses were somewhat scandalized that I hadn’t brought anything to nibble the first day—to me the bone broth filled that niche—so yesterday, I added some cheese and crackers and a hard-boiled egg. I also brought a bolster for under my knees. The recliners are comfortable, except there is a gap where my knees hit and day 1, that was my biggest issue … trying to find the comfort spot. Problem solved. Add to the pack.

Not only do they have blankets for those patient’s who do not bring their own, but they have a row of shelves where they are kept heated, which is a nice touch. A woman in the tech department had to come to the chemo room for some reason a while back, and noticed the heated blankets. Since she crochets blankets and sells them, she periodically crotches a few for the chemo room and the nurses give them to the patients. I was gifted a beautiful blanket of purple and lavender on day 1. I am touched by the thoughtfulness. The chemo room is also stocked with beverages and snacks, should you need them.

Handcrafted by a tech staff member, it works perfectly across the foot of my bed.

How Am I Feeling?

In a word, tired. Which is completely normal. I was tired by the end of day 1, and yesterday, on arriving home, my brain was foggy, and I was exhausted. Again. Normal. Today, I’m doing well. So far not a lot of nausea (though they gave me HIGH doses of anti-nausea during treatment and I have two different kinds of adhoc meds for that at home) I actually was a little hungry last night, so ate some short ribs, I’d prepared in advance. In a little bit, I’ll take a nap, which will be par for the course moving forward. Other than that??? I’m good.

Shopping Spree

One thing that will be different with this protocol vs. the ones endured in the past is that I WILL lose my hair this time. Which isn’t a big deal for me because it will grow back. Probably more unruly than it is now. The biggest question I had was when I should shave my head. The thought of having to clean up clumps of hair as they fall out just doesn’t sit well with me. Besides, it might kill off my robovac and I cannot have that!!!

My hair will thin over the next three weeks, and then fall out completely after the next treatment … so, I’ll make the trip to a local barber the week prior, get the head shaved and the barber cleans up the mess.

I have always joked that I’d buy a rainbow wig if I lost my hair. And truthfully, I would, except it would be itchy on top of my bald head. Instead, I went on a little shopping spree prior to treatment. Retail therapy with a purpose. I bought several types of head wraps in various colors, all soft to the touch, so my head will be covered. I also bought the leak-proof thermoses in the necessary sizes, as well as some V-neck T-Shirts to make accessing the port easier for the nurses (and more comfortable for me since the line won’t be catching on the neckline.) and two pairs of slippers (with soles) to wear for chemo. The biggest key for me is comfortable, stretchy clothing, and even tennis shoes are too constricting.

Chemo Accomplished

This post has probably been much longer than what the norm will be, but I wanted to bring everyone up to speed on what is going on. The situation is MUCH better than it could be, for which I’m eternally thankful. I don’t think the oncologist has quite recovered from her shock over the test results being so much more positive than anticipated. May that carry through … I’m willing to accept any miracles coming my way.

The post Few But Mighty: Round One appeared first on Be the Cat.

This month marks a big milestone … the 10th Anniversary of my leukemia & lymphoma diagnosis. I have decided that this is something to celebrate. After all, I am still here, still fighting, and still no closer to giving up on life—I have far too many things to still accomplish. So I decided I should see what anniversary year it is, and found that it is Tin. Perfect.

What better way to celebrate 10-years than with the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz? After all, getting a cancer diagnosis is a lot like being swept up by a tornado and finding yourself in a strange land after dropping out of the sky. Then, before you can get your bearings and come up with a plan, you're surrounded by all sorts of people offering advice. If only you X or maybe if you Y … all well-meaning and helpful, but notice, NONE of the munchkins traveled the road with Dorothy. They couldn't. And this is not a road I'd wish on anyone else.

Don't worry, I'm not leaving out the Wicked Witch—SHE'S the cancer in this story. So off you go on your journey to find the wizard, aka the magic combination of things to keep you as healthy as possible while living with the disease. You have no idea what's ahead, but have been told of treacherous country and winding, unsafe roads.

My Road:

I thought I'd take a few moments to recap my journey over the last 10 years.

• July 2013 during a routine exam, diagnosed with leukemia, which had been caught at the very beginning stages and was told it would be a slow progression disease and I may not need chemo for 10-15 years.
• October 2013 further diagnosis based on additional test of lymphoma hiding in the blood stream. Additionally, diagnosed with two sets of abnormalities that make my particular cancers very aggressive. Let's just call them the flying monkeys that swoop in and attack periodically.
• November 2013 saw the start of my first set of chemo infusions, which lasted for a 6-month period.
• May 2014—Full Remission
• April 2016—Remission Ended Begin watchful waiting something I do not do well.
• October 2016—My blood values were out of whack, but the oncologist felt we should still watch and wait. So my general state of well-being kept deteriorating, fatigue levels increased, etc.
• December 2016—After some difficulty fighting off a skin infection, and identification of some lymphoma nodules, the oncologist determined the cancer was becoming too aggressive, so it was time for treatment again … only this time it was a daily oral pill. WoooHoooo!!!

• For everything in life, there seems to be some kind of trade off, and with taking a daily pill, the suppression of the immune system meant that while not having to go through chemo infusions, I did need to have infusions to boost my immune system regularly (about half the year each year)
• January 2019—Hospitalized with Scarlet Fever, I had to come off the pill (due to the suppression of the immune system any time there is infection, you have to stop taking it). Since I had been on it for two years and was experiencing several side effects, we decided to keep me off it for awhile.
• Remission only lasted 5 months and by October 2019, I was back in the chemo chair for infusions using a different protocol than the first time round.
• March 2020—I had finished the chemo, but wound up in the hospital with what the doctors decided was chemo related infections. Let's just say they were awful enough I don't ever want to have to fight those off again.
• August 2021—Visible lumps identified and new chemo course ordered … both oral and infusion. While one of the lumps went away as soon as I started the new protocol, the other didn't, so I finished the year off with radiation on top of chemo.
• December 2021—Merry Christmas to me. I spent it in the hospital with double pneumonia caused by the chemo protocol.
• 2022 to present—I've been keeping to myself, taking the oral targeted therapy and holding my own. Though I do have some cysts that are hanging around, they aren't growing and remain stable. So all is good.

Now back to why I'm celebrating this anniversary with the Tin Man. One of the things I've always loved about Baum's work is that those who helped Dorothy find her way had one thing they felt they lacked and wanted to see the wizard so they could gain it once again. The Lion wanted to be brave, the Scarecrow wanted brains, and the Tin Man wanted a heart. But as they journey forward, we see that the Lion IS brave, the Scarecrow IS smart, and the Tin Man had an abundance of love in the heart that in his eyes wasn't there.

For me, the Tin Man represents passion … finding the heart of your desires and keeping it alive. Even the times when he'd get rusted up (from crying over something) resonates with me. I have my passion in my writing work and focusing on that helps me get through my days. Yeah, some days are creaky, where I don't feel well, it hurts to move, and I have no spoons left. But when I write, it takes me away from all of that and keeps me plugging away toward a future when I hope someone will come up with an answer for the beast I live with day in and day out.

So while it may seem a bit odd to celebrate having cancer for 10 years, I'm celebrating the defeat of the Wicked Witch. One day, may she melt FOREVER.

Here's to the next 10 years because I plan to be here to celebrate it when it arrives.

The post 10 Years of Living with Leukemia appeared first on Be the Cat.

Welcome to Rainbow Falls. Last week this time, my head was so fuzzy, I couldn’t think straight, I spent the bulk of the day in bed because of the fatigue levels, I had had a reaction to the chemo the day before and generally felt crappy. Going into chemo this week, I had no idea what to expect. Because the oncologist put me on a precautionary dosage of prednisone for 3 days, I felt better and stronger by Thursday. My fatigue levels weren’t as bad, and my breathing had vastly improved. I’m not saying I was skipping up the stairs, but at least I could climb them without having to take a break afterward to get my breath under control.

Whatever else would happen, at least I was stronger going in than the week before. And this week? No reaction. I saw the doctor after my treatment and we were both cautiously optimistic about the lack of reaction and hopeful it wouldn’t occur later in the day (it did not). But then she gave me some EXCELLENT news. My chemo schedule has changed. The original plan was to have chemo 3 weeks in a row, one day a week, then skip a week and repeat for 6-8 months. Because I am responding so well to the treatment, it will now be 3 weeks in a row, one day week, and then once a month for 4 months. To say I am excited about the reduction in times I’ll have to have an infusion is an understatement

My biggest concern all along was how I would handle the constant barrage on my body of the once a week. My poor body has been through so much over the past couple years that trying to envision that finish line was a bit difficult knowing I would essentially be going once a week without recuperation time in between. Once a month for only one day is SO MUCH better.

The picture for this post is reflective of how I feel. Such a beautiful rainbow image of Niagara Falls. I equate rainbows with hope and going through chemo is a little like going over Niagara Falls in a barrel, so the two together accurately represent my feelings right now. I may still have to navigate the Falls, but hope is shining through for a better tomorrow.

The post What a Difference a Week Makes appeared first on Be the Cat.

The FANTASTIC news is that the lump in my breast is long gone. I call it the drama queen because it grew and receded with a flourish. The lymphoma on the back is taking its time on reducing. It is, but so much more slowly.

Thursday (and Friday) marked the first dose of the infusion therapy. I honestly didn’t know what to expect this time round. Most of the reading I have done on the drug includes MOST people having a reaction on day 1. In fact, the way they give it includes getting the patient adjusted to the chemicals over a two day period for what will be a one day process in the future. You have one-tenth of the dose on day one, and come back the next day for the rest.

Since I react to EVERYTHING, I wasn’t sure how things would go, but day 1 … smooth as silk. On Friday, I expected to be there all day long because Thursday took 4 hours for a tenth of the dose. I was so surprised when they told me I only had one bag and was done by noon. So I happily came home, unpacked all the stuff I took with (laptop, blanket, pillow, etc.), and decided to rest a bit.

That’s when my body finally decided to react — my chest tightened and breathing was definitely labored. I used my lowest level inhaler and the breathing eased, and I called the oncologist to let her know what was going on. As a precaution, she put me on steroids for a few days.

Other than that, things are going well. I am tired … even more so after the reaction, but today my head is less foggy and I am feeling better.

We get to do the thing all over again on Thursday. I expect we might run the drip a little more slowly, though I could be wrong. Hopefully, I’ll acclimate to the treatment and we can keep going,

The picture for this post is to remind me to focus on the beauty in things and let all the garbage and negativity fade into the background. I do have so much I am blessed with and am fortunate to have all the good people in my life that I do. Though I cannot get out and about these days to see people, I value your support through this time. It means so much to me.

The post The New Regime appeared first on Be the Cat.

Suddenly, my habit of wearing a mask whenever I left the house was “normal”. Staying home, ordering things to be delivered, avoiding crowds … all of that became what everyone was doing. I was in good company—just as long as everyone maintained social distancing. While the United States is looking for the return to what will undoubtedly be a new normal, my path ahead isn’t quite as clear.

At the end of April, I identified a lump which turned out not to be in my breast, but in the skin surrounding the breast. Since that time I have been undergoing tests and we finally have the answer. Eight years ago, I was diagnosed with Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia (CLL) and Small Lymphocytic Lymphoma (SLL). They are usually diagnosed at the same time as they are two sides to the same blood disease. Up until this point, the CLL has been the dominant beast to battle and the SLL has been in hiding. Now, my blood values, after the previous round of chemo, are stable, but I have identifiable lumps that need to be dealt with.

Last year I was hopeful that after completion of the chemo I’d have at least 5-6 years of remission to look forward to. But instead:

FAIL!!!!

When we think of life and the road ahead, I think most of us would prefer a wide-open highway—straight lanes, long horizon, no obstacles in sight. Instead, it is more of a winding path, full of twists and turns, blind curves, and obstacles scattered along the path. Right now, I feel a little like I’m on the path in the picture. It isn’t paved, but it has been traveled before. I might have to duck from the things hanging over my head and will have to be careful not to trip over rocks or fallen branches along the way. While it is slightly oppressive and dark, there is light at the end. I just need to keep the light in my sight and keep moving forward.

What next? I start chemo next week, and we’re hitting it with a double-barreled approach: a daily pill and another cycle of infusions … this time once a week for three weeks, then the fourth week I get a break. That will be one cycle. I’ll have to go through 6-8 cycles (months) before we call it complete, and will likely stay on the pill past that time.

Not what we had hoped for, but as always, we keep moving ahead.

The post The Winding Road Ahead appeared first on Be the Cat.

Photo by Anna-Louise

Phew!! Time has been flying by so fast, I cannot keep up … with anything. I had good intent to keep everyone updated as to my progress through this round of chemo, but managed one post after Cycle 1, Day 1, and here is it a new year and I have completed Cycle 4, Day 3 (one more day to go, but that is hydration only, so not too bad.) As we approached year’s end, one question kept popping up.

“What are you doing for New Year’s?”

I cracked up. I’ve essentially been a hermit for the past three-and-a-half years, so it isn’t likely I’d suddenly throw on my party togs for a night out on the town … especially not while undergoing chemo. But I did have an answer for the question.

“Mainlining (chemo) drugs and passing out.

Yes, I spent New Year’s Eve hooked up to a drip in a chemo chair and it was my long day, so by the time I got home, I literally had something to eat and passed out. The fireworks here aren’t for celebrating New Year’s Eve. They are in celebration of two more cycles left in this round of chemo. A celebration of going into a new year hopeful for a nice period of remission where I might get some normalcy in life back. A celebration of the hope that I will soon get my creative mojo back so I can finish the book I’ve been tinkering with. It’s all in my head, it just hasn’t hit the page yet.

How have I been doing? For the most part okay. I have been having more sensitivity to the chemo drugs as far as allergic reactions go this time. But that is due to my having a reaction to more than one of the drugs. My fatigue levels are high, so I manage to get through the day job and pick at some of my writing stuff, but haven’t accomplished a whole lot. Which is frustrating at times. But for the most part I focus on getting through the next couple of months with the anticipation that I won’t feel quite so tired and then will be able to get things done.

Part of my ability to get through the day job was that I took the month of November off to give myself extra time to rest. My fatigue levels had been creeping up even before I knew I’d be going through chemo. So I had already planned to use a good chunk of vacation time. At the end of the vacation, I wanted another month. I’m still tired most of the time.

Unfortunately, extreme fatigue does not always equal good sleep. If only it would. HA! The next two months should be interesting. Before I know it, it will be chemo time again. Time to pack the blankets, snacks, liquids, and laptop. Time to dredge up the energy to get out of bed two hours earlier.

The passage of time between cycles is swift, but the time in the chair is long.

The post Time Flies – Except in the Chemo Chair appeared first on Be the Cat.

The image of the roller coaster is an apt description of how yesterday went. I normally try to get my chemo updates done same day, but by the time I made it home I was well and truly exhausted. The day started early because of the 0800 start time. The staff and I always joke about me being the first one in and last one out. And I definitely go prepared for the long haul.

I finally got smart this time — in the past, I’d do my imitation of a pack mule. A shoulder bag with a blanket, thermoses of tea and coffee, and water bottle crammed into it, a thermal bag filled with Perrier, things to eat, protein drinks, cold packs, and most importantly, my laptop. I have spent from 8:00AM to 6:00PM in a chemo chair, so it is essential to carry things with you. Once you’re in the chair, you cannot nip out to get something to eat. And I’m not a magazine reader and don’t like staring at the walls for 9-10 hours.

This year I upped my game when I remembered the cart I use to transport books — a cart on wheels. And I could bungee my laptop to the handle. Win-win. It was SO MUCH easier than trying to CARRY everything. A good start to the day, for sure.

The actual chemo

When getting me hooked up, the chemo nurse hadn’t dealt with my particular port before. The surgeon placed it differently than most. It is higher, and somewhat deeper. Fortunately, one of the nurses present had connected the port several times, and showed the newer nurse how it is done. Then I settled in, pulled out the laptop and tried to get a few things accomplished.

About half an hour in, I struggled a bit to catch my breath. A weight settled on my chest. My face flushed. I knew the signs. Allergic reaction to the meds. I alerted the nurse and she stopped the drip and added a saline bag to help dilute the intensity.

Fifteen minutes later, my breathing eased and the weight lifted. Shortly after that, we restarted the drip, but ran the saline at the same time. Next, the aftermath to the reaction happened. I started shaking uncontrollably, and freezing like being in the middle of a snowstorm with no protective gear. My teeth chattered and my fingers shook so badly I couldn’t type. I grabbed a fresh thermos of hot coffee and sipped a little at a time — there was nothing else I could do but wait it out.

Once the reaction and aftermath had passed, the rest of the day ran smoothly. So smoothly, I completed my treatment almost two hours earlier than anticipated. Hurrah!! I contacted my mom, my ride for the afternoon, and waited for her to arrive.

By the time I arrived home, exhaustion had set in. Despite the exhaustion, without a sleeping aid, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep. So I took my pill, had something to eat, crawled into bed, and oblivion took over. A solid sleep, with only a couple of interruptions.

Tomorrow we go for chemo day 2. It will be MUCH shorter, and I do not have to have the drug I’m allergic to, so it should be a decent day.

The post Thrills, Chills, and Oblivion – Chemo Day 1 appeared first on Be the Cat.

I have since changed my mind. Keeping the leukemia journey separate from the author journey damaged the message I want to convey. We all face obstacles in life — those pesky things get in the way of us attaining our dreams. I am going after my dreams and goals regardless of the obstacles I face due to illness. The biggest part of those dreams is writing the stories I am gifted with in the hopes that they reach and touch the hearts of others. And maybe by sharing the whole journey, I might inspire others to not give up, but to keep on going until their dreams have been achieved.

Last week, I posted about The Anticipated Decision. My blood values have skyrocketed and we made the chemo decision, but the question remained — which protocol? My doctor wanted some time to think about the best protocol for me, so I waited. When I hadn’t heard by Friday, I called and she asked whether she could call me on Saturday.

Saturday, the call didn’t go exactly as planned. I expected her to call with the name of the protocol. But instead, she was fence sitting. The abnormalities in the leukemia and lymphoma make it aggressive. Add my personal idiosyncracies to the aggressiveness of an otherwise slow-progressing disease, and I’m not the easiest patient.

She laid out a couple of options and told me to think about it and let her know. Cue the deer in the headlights look. It’s not that I cannot make a decision … but this seemed like such a BIG decision to make. And I didn’t know enough.

Thank goodness for the internet age where information is literally at our fingertips. At the end of my research, I had basically joined my doctor on the fence. I knew exactly why she had climbed there.

• It’s not my first chemo rodeo.
• The normally indolent CLL/SLL disease is like a rampaging bull in me.
• I’ve already lived with this for 6 years and I’m still younger than the average onset age.

The question isn’t just which protocol has the best chance, but what is our long-term strategy? After a LONG week of researching and thinking, I had boiled things down to two questions. 1) As one of the options was to resume taking the targeted maintenance therapy, was that postponing the inevitable? 2) If the chemo failed, was the targeted maintenance therapy still viable? The answer to both questions was yes, so decision = made.

I have never been one to shy away from the unpleasant. While I’m not ready to gleefully skip down the street because I will be back in the chemo chair, I am relieved to have a plan. Even though that plan means deliberately making myself sick in order to get better. But that is the trade-off. Six months of getting my cancer cells to commit suicide and six months of recovery, and I might enjoy several years of remission.

And there is the biggest carrot of them all. A chance to get out of the house and meet readers without having to be the masked author. Not having to take extra precautions when around other people to ensure my beleaguered immune system doesn’t give up the ghost. The obstacles I am not allowing to stop me can be removed for a period of time. And I will revel in every minute.

The next step is getting the treatment ordered and approved by insurance, and then I’ll be put on the chemo schedule. And now that the decision has been made, I can get back to what is most important to me … writing and sharing my writing. If you haven’t yet checked out Speak No Evil, I’d love it if you did. It is the best thing I have written to date and I’m so excited about it’s release October 1st.

The post The Treatment Decision appeared first on Be the Cat.

Apparently because I can never do anything the easy way, come the beginning of January, I contracted scarlet fever and wound up in the hospital — the same week I was to see the doctor and come off the medication. Well, with the particular medication I was on, the first thing that happens when you get sick, is you stop taking the mediciation. But I was going to stop the medication anyway, so no biggie right? I just had to do it with a little dramatic flair (which I could have done without).

Come May, my values had already creeped outside the normal range. So we went into “watchful waiting” mode. No need to take action, but close monitoring was required. In July my white counts had jumped up, but were still just under where we needed to take action. Between the July appointment and now, I knew my values were going further and further out of whack. Primarily because my fatigue levels have significantly increased.

I had an appointment with the oncologist this week and sure enough, it’s time to take action. The decision was to try another protocol than the targeted therapy drug, as the doctor was not happy that the “remission” only lasted a brief 5 months. She would like to try something to hopefully give me years in remission rather than months.

I still don’t know exactly what the protocol will be, but I do know it will involve full-blown infusion chemo drips. While NO ONE gets excited about having to go through this process, I am focused on the trade-off. Six months (most likely) of treatments now, so I can have some chemo-free years. The treatments will probably start in the next week or two, so I thought I’d dust off my site so I can post updates as to how things are going.

Like last time, I’m sure there will be decent days, and dreadful days, but I am going to get through it all in the best way possible.

The post The Anticipated Decision appeared first on Be the Cat.

As I am allergic to Benadryl, they give me a steroid instead to help minimize the allergic reactions … and I do need it. The problem was that the preceding treatment, the chemo nurse charted that she had given me 10mg and I know my doctor had given instructions for 4mg. I recalled the conversation verbatim, and the doctor agreed that is what she had said, but we didn’t know whether the chart had been incorrectly marked or whether I had been given the 10mg vs. the ordered 4mg. (The chemo nurse is no longer with my oncologist, and it’s probably a good thing if she cannot follow what the doctor orders.) So we decided to proceed with the 4mg. That settled, I pulled out my laptop, settled back in the chair, and started working on some things.

I always bring stuff to work on while I’m there because I don’t sleep easily or well in that type of environment and can’t sit there and stare at the walls doing nothing. So I have my laptop and can work on whatever I have the brain power for (which this time around wasn’t much). I also can hop on the internet and do some surfing or watch a movie, as I usually bring one along. The morning went by quickly and then it happened. I made the BIG mistake of invoking Murphy’s law by making the following statement: “Wow, it’s going fast today.” I said it after the second bottle had completed, so should have been half way done and I had hopes of being done early. Murhpy just gave a huge evil belly laugh and said, “Not so fast.”

With the third bottle hooked in, I figured it would be a good time to watch the movie I had brought with me because I really was too tired to do much else. So I popped in Spy and began watching. I had seen Spy before and thought it would be a nice, light-hearted watch. I enjoy Melissa McCarthy and though the film itself is on the spoof/ridiculous side figured it might not be quite as funny the second time round, but still something to take me away. Boy, was I wrong. I had forgotten to factor in my state of exhaustion, so it was like watching the movie after a few too many drinks. It was hysterical. I nearly snort-sprayed my monitor on lines I KNEW were coming up. And it was difficult to keep from laughing out loud (I didn’t want to wake anyone who was napping by cackling away.) I could not have made a more perfect selection for the day. Anyway, if you’re utterly exhausted and want to watch something for giggles, I’d certainly recommend it.

Somewhere toward the end of the movie, I noticed that my drip wasn’t doing it’s thing and dripping. It was still working, but going extremely slow. I didn’t think we’d ever get that bottle done with. So, instead of being on the fast track, I was going to be done later than usual. By the time all was said and done, it was after 6PM before I left the doctor’s office. Then I had to swing by the pharmacy to drop off a prescription for some sleep assistance. I haven’t been sleeping well at all of late. An hour at a stretch, with a lot of wakeful time in between, so it was time to get some help.

I arrived home more than 12 hours after I had left, just in time to take my chemo. And by the time I did get home, I noticed something. My left wrist felt almost completely numb, as if it had been broken, and both ankles were going numb. Definitely an allergic reaction. And then it clicked … earlier I had been extremely antsy and couldn’t stay seated in the chair, which does happen with me from time to time, so I didn’t think anything about it, but realized, it was a precursor to the swelling happening by the time I arrived home.

Knowing what was happening, I was able to get things under control quickly, but I think it answered the question of what dosage of the steroid the chemo nurse had given me the last time. So, my next visit, the doc and I will have a chat about how to best handle the amount.

The picture of Mount St. Helens is a reminder for me that even after devastation, the tenacity of life can conquer.

The post Infusion Day appeared first on Be the Cat.

When I started this blog, I promised to be as real as I could with it in sharing my journey along way. One of the things I have talked about the most is the fatigue that comes with not only the cancer itself, but with the cure. And right now I’m in the Bermuda Triangle of Fatigue coupled with the Catch-22 of not sleeping well. FATIGUE is the most common problem cancer fighters face, no matter hwat your version of the illness, there is this big dude named Fatigue waiting in a dark corner to club you with his baseball bat and knock you to your knees.

As a person with leukemia, the question I hear all the time from everyone around is is How are you feeling? or the statement I hope you are well. Please don’t miunserstand the following … I love that I have so MANY people in my life that CARE enough about me to ask how I am. I honestly do. BUT, it is also the question I have no happy answer for. Right now, there is not a circumstance wihen that question will have an ansswer of Great!! and I know the asker is not expecting that. If I say I’m fine … I’m lying. I am not fine. I have leyukemia and lymphoma and I am taking chemo to help get them back under control and I am now going for an infusion to boost the immune system which should win the academy award for best portrayal of playing dead. When I say I’m okay, take that as the best possible answer I can provide at the moment without lying to anyone. But most of the time, if I’m not lying … and I don’t like to do that to questions genuinely asked, the true and honest answer is going to be, I’m tired. Or I will simply avoid answering the question.

There are only so many times you can say, I’m tired or I’m fatigued or This day is kicking my butt before you feel like a Grade A, Number 1, First Class WHINER. I try to keep things positive most of the time, because I NEED TO. It’s not because I want to come off as little Mary Sunshine adorning everyone’s days with rays of light and rainbows, though I do try to spread happiness and love as I can. But I need to harness the power of the positive to help me defeat this beast trying to take me down. So when pretty much every day I am asekd to answer a question where there is a negative response waitingm, it does tkae me down a notch.

Normally, I don’t care what other people thingk about me. Primarily because it is their perception and feeling and the only thing I can do to sway them one way or the other is to continue being me. But in this case, when the words tired and fatigue are used so frequently, you begin to wonder whether people’s perception of you is changing through no fault of your own. DO THEY consider you a whiner for always being tired? But then I started to wonder whether a better understanding of what is meant by fatigue would help create common understanding for those who have not experienced this level of fatigue. So today, in this post, I’m NOT TELLING you I’m tired, I’m SHOWING you HOW tired I am. I have a form of dyslexia that is much harder to control when I am tired. Most of the time, when “Normal“, when letters arrange themselves in my brain in the wrong order by the time the command hits the fintgers typing the characters, the rearrangement of the owrd has taken place or I immediatelly catch on typeing and correct. Not this time. My brain is somewhat scrambled and the orders it thinks it is goving are not recived correctly by the fingers and mistakes are made. Frequently.

Big deal, right? Wrong. Those who know my nearly obsessive attention to detail when it comes to writing can confirm how much errors normally upsets me. Me On Fatigue = Scrambled Brain (breakfast anyone?) Thius manifests iteslf not only in writing but in speech as well. My entire language center can go on the fritz and sometimes it is really bad. Tonight, as I arrived home from my infusion (actually dropping off a prescription at the pharmacy, but I’ll get to that in a moment) I stard blankly into the car as I tried to remember what I had done with the credit card after the pharmacy clerk had returned it. Then I became confused becauyse I couldn’t remember giving it to her. Then FINALLY realization dawned: I hadn’t given her the credit card becayse the ONLY thinkg I was doing was DROPPING OFF the prescription. Now imagine that about every activity you do throughoyut your day. This truly illustrated a moment of the brain on fatigue. I was getting ready to tear the car aaprt when I remembered about only dropping it off. I DID however search for the excuse note I had drafted for the jury duty summons I have received, as I will not be able to appear. I rmemebered to ask about it (YAY!!! foir me) I remembered to remind the chemo nurse that I needed it. I helped her write it. And then I’m pretty sure I left it on the counter after having input my next appointments into my phone. Brain on Fatigue Fatigue means I can’t think straigh, I can’t write straight, I can’t speak straight, my emotions are a jumble and are raw and right next to the surface. It is easy to make me cry, and easier to piss me off. The good news is that, as always, it is easy to make me smile and laugh as well. More things are funny and more things are terrible. The brakes have come off, all filters have been dissolved, and life feels very much like something you’ll never have control over, even as an illusion, again.

So … after all that? How am I? I’m Tired. I’m Exhausted. I’m Fatigued/. And I very much open that you’ll not think less of me for feeling this way. It is honestly where I am. And hoepfully as well, you can understand how being reminded of such becomes a negative. Because the other thing I am (as in How am I) is De3aling. I am dealing with the cancer, dealing with the cures, dealing with the ftigyue, dealing with the isolation, dealing with my workload, dealing with not sleeping, or sleeping too much, dealing with getting ill and nto haveing anything to fight with … all of it in the ONLY way I know how.

One. Step. At. A. Time.

The picture at the top of the post is one I selected to show the tenacity of my hope; the tenacity of my faith. Tomorrow the sun is going to rise, and tomorrow, I am going to be here to see ti. Mabye not as it rises, but I will know on waking each day (presuming I have actually sletp) anothe r day has dawned. And the picture of the lantern is something in the chemo room the nurses clubbed together to buy as a decoration for the room for the patients. To remind us that through Love and Caring, Faith Makes All Things Possible.

***Note – In the body of this post when I typed what I had intended to be the word typos and it came out sypot, I laughed and couldn’t help but use it for the Subject of this post. So yes, the post Title misspelling was deliberate. Everyuthing else you have suffered through in this post comes from the very addled brain of yours truly./

The post Beware of the Sypot appeared first on Be the Cat.

But I will continue to do as I did before … Bring things to work on, bring movies to watch, and basically keep occupied during the process. Rather than be upset that I have another hurdle to go through, I am choosing to be happy because this will help me get well. And if I respond as well to this treatment as I am to the chemo, then I’ll be back to normal in no time at all. And I was absolutely delighted when they hooked up the port and it worked beautifully and didn’t even require flushing. I wasn’t sure whether the port would need to be cleared out or not because it has been nearly 3 years since its last use.

The biggest issue, per usual, was being allergic to Benadryl. My oncologist always gets nervous when starting a new treatment because part of the standard protocol she uses is to give allergy medication in advance of the treatment to minimize the potential for allergic reactions. And I am allergic to so many things … Then came the question as to whether we would use the steroid as we had with the treatment 2013/2014 instead of Benadryl. Slight problem, there were contraindications for the steroid with the chemo. Except because of what the contraindicators were, we decided to go ahead and use the steroids. I’m glad we did because I would have had an allergic reaction.

The biggest issues encountered with this infusion were increased fatigue levels and some joint pain. Fortunately, the joint pain has been manageable, and I have rested more this past week, hence my not posting this immediately. I finally caught up on rest yesterday and am not feeling as fatigued today. I will find out the results of the infusion and how the chemo is going tomorrow … so stay tuned.

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