Cancer Musings (Oncology Appt-Cycle 3)

I just finished cycle 3 of drug X. Today I had my oncology appointment where my labs were checked and the plan was made to continue on with the next 21-day cycle (#4). The goal is to complete 8 cycles, but  I can stop at 6 if I'm unable to tolerate it. So far, I'm tolerating it. It's rough on my hands and feet, a bit painful, and requires a lot of application of ointments and creams, which is time consuming. But, I've learned that consuming massive amounts of time is the most predominant side effect of the cancer journey, and I've learned to live with and manage it as best I can. 

A strange side effect that goes with the hand and foot syndrome symptoms of this drug is that I no longer have fingerprints. Strange but true and said to be a temporary side effect. The fingerprints should return after the treatment course is over. Thankfully, my most recent phone uses face recognition or passcode technology and not a fingerprint reader. Otherwise, I'd be in trouble. 

All in all, the cancer battle is moving along toward the halfway mark in this final treatment. And God has proven Himself to be faithful and true all the way through.

Greg has come to most of my oncology appointments and we've kept up the habit of taking our picture together each time. Here's today's picture, the first without a hat in many months: 

Cancer Musings (the hair journey)

My hair is finally growing back and at a comfortable length to wear in public. I dubbed today "wear your real hair to work day. I have ditched the wig, and I'm going with the pixie style from here on out (until it grows longer anyway). 

Here's my cancer hair experience in pictures. 

This is what my hair looked like in November of last year, when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer. 

I got my hair cut to a shoulder-length style in early December with the impending hair loss in mind. 

I started chemo on December 13, and the hair loss started shortly after that.

And the progression was rapid. 

I started wearing hats right away. 

All my hair was gone by December 31. 

I wore hats outside of work (even at home). At work, I wore a wig. This is the one I wore December through May. 

And this is the wig I wore June through October. 

I acquired quite a collection of hats during that time and enjoyed wearing them. 

This is what my head looked like on my last day of chemo (Taxol) in May. This is the only picture I allowed to be taken of it. 

This is what my hair looks like today. 

I'm grateful to God that my hair is back, and I was amazed to watch the process while it happened. 

God has made the human body to be very resilient, and I got a chance to witness that. 

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I thought that losing my hair would be the hardest part of it. As it turns out, it was one of the easiest side effects I experienced in this process. 

I'm so grateful to God for sustaining me through this whole process. And I'm grateful to have hair again. 

Cancer Musings (Oncology Appt)

 Today I had an oncology appointment to check my progress on drug X. I just completed my second 21-day cycle of the drug. It's going okay so far. The side effects are manageable and my labs are okay enough to continue on. So, my "prize" is I get to take drug X for another 21-day cycle. 

Greg wasn't able to leave work for today's appointment, so I was on my own. Not only do I enjoy having him with me for a second set of ears and he asks good questions, he's also a much better selfie taker than I am. He was missed in many ways.

Cancer Musings (Appearance Reactions)

The part of this cancer journey that's been harder for me than I realized it would be has been absorbing the reactions of friends, family, and coworkers as my physical appearance changes. In the past 11 months, I've lost 80+ pounds, lost all my hair, and now have a completely different wardrobe. In some situations, I'm wearing a hat, in some situations I'm wearing a wig. My face is thinner, which has changed my appearance.  Even people who know me well sometimes don't recognize me when I walk into a room or when they see me out in public unexpectedly. 

A couple months ago I was talking to a coworker in the lunchroom who knows me but hasn't seen me for awhile because she works from home most of the time now. We were a good 5 minutes into the conversation when I realized she had no idea who I was. She finally asked me what department I work in. When I told her I was in the training department she looked at me quizzically for a moment trying to absorb that information and place me. I'm the only employee in the training department, so I knew it wouldn't take long for her to figure it out. And she did. 

The situation of a coworker, friend, or even a family member not recognizing me when I haven't seen them for a few weeks or months has become very familiar to me, and I've developed different strategies to lessen the blow for others and myself. I've become accustomed to entering the situation by saying, "Hi. It's Katrina". It's awkward, very awkward, but it does the the trick. 

Sometimes I tell people why I look different, and sometimes I just let them draw their own conclusions or ask me if they are curious enough and time and situation allow an explanation. My favorite reaction was from a doctor at work. He asked me, in a crowded room in the middle of a work day, loudly, "Katrina, why do you look so different?" I said,  "I lost weight and I have new hair".  He said with a smile on his face and chuckle in his voice, "That must be it." and went merrily on his way. Asked and answered. 

Many of the experiences that have come with this cancer journey I wasn't prepared for and wouldn't have known how to prepare for them. God has given me grace and answers at just the time I need them all along the way. He has been faithful. And I've learned He can be trusted in all situations of life.

Cancer Musings (Emergency Room Visit)

Today I made a trip to the emergency room at our local hospital. I was having some chest pains, which is a possible side effect of the most recent chemo drug I'm taking. Rather than spending the day second guessing if I was having a heart attack, I was persuaded I should go in and get it checked out. When you're going through cancer treatment, there is a tendency to constantly second guess every little thing that happens in your body. Is it a side effect of some treatment (because they all have side effects) or is it something more serious?

Everything checked out fine. No heart attack (likely some radiating pain from a strained muscle in my arm). We were out of there in under 2-1/2 hours, which is pretty good for a trip to the emergency room on a Saturday afternoon. 

This is a picture of the CNA who was on duty this afternoon. He performed the EKG and did the blood draw on me. I couldn't help but take his picture each time he left and walked back into the room (which I think he found a little distracting and slightly odd). He was very good at his job. Usually, it's pretty difficult to do a blood draw on me (hard to find a vein, many attempts are made), but this guy got it on the first try. I'm glad he was on duty today. 

He told me he wasn't on the schedule to work today; he had just picked up a shift. 

This was no accident or coincidence as far as I'm concerned. 

I believe God put him there at just that time. And I'm glad he was there. 

Oh yeah, "this guy" just happens to be my brother. 

Cancer Musings (Oncology Appt)

Today was my first follow-up appointment with the oncologist after starting drug X (chemo pill). The side effects have been less on this drug than the infused drugs were, for which I am grateful. I finished my first 21-day cycle and got the go-ahead to start the next one. 

Greg has faithfully attended every oncologist appointment I've had. And by the grace of God, his schedule allowed him to do so. It has been a blessing to have him with me during the appointments, as sometimes my head stops on a particular piece of information and doesn't continue processing the rest of what I'm hearing. Greg picks up the slack for me then and asks questions or retells me what I missed later. I'm so grateful for him. 

Cancer Musings (Swollen Legs & Tears)

I had a Physical Therapy appointment two weeks ago, and I'm finally able to talk about it. Ever since being on Taxol (which ended May 1), my legs have been quite swollen. The oncologist put me on a medication for it, but it was ineffective and brought its own side effects with it, so we discontinued it. I asked for a referral to Physical Therapy instead. I walked out of the physical therapist's office in tears. I wasn't upset by anything the physical therapist said or did, but I was overwhelmed by the magnitude of the treatment course. 

The "prescription" for the swollen legs was to engage in a process called "edema wrapping". This involves wrapping my legs from foot to knee in multiple layers of compression wraps (stretchy Ace bandages) every day and leave them on for 23 hours a day. I get one hour off for good behavior (and to take a shower). The physical therapist trained me how to do this rather technical process myself, so I wouldn't have to go to the office for an appointment to have it done every week. It takes at least 30 minutes to perform this task every day. If I follow the prescribed advice from my oncologist to apply a heavy-duty therapeutic lotion to my feet everyday (to avoid a side effect to my feet caused by the current chemo drug I'm taking) then I end up wrapping my legs twice a day. This news was enough to make a grown woman cry (and it did). The time consuming nature of cancer treatment (and all the side effects that accompany it) is overwhelming to the say the least. 

The idea behind this treatment is to reduce the swelling in my legs enough to reward me by ordering me a specialized (and spendy) pair of compression stockings that I can wear everyday instead of the bandages. 

Once I stopped crying, I determined in my heart to be a big girl about it and perform the treatment as prescribed. That appointment was two weeks ago, and the good news is that the swelling is reducing in my legs. I still have another week or more to go in the treatment, and by the grace of God my technique is improving and I'm shaving a few minutes off of the process each time. God is good, and He is faithful. He's been with me every step of this journey, even in the tears. Especially in the tears.