My nurse called with my lab results. Everything looks fine, she said. My white blood cells are normal which is a good thing. A drop in this area is what makes patients prone to infection.
Jacki Donaldson
Archive for January, 2005
Lab results
Monday, January 31st, 2005The waiting is the hardest part
Monday, January 31st, 2005So far, the waiting is the hardest part of my cancer treatment — I mean the actual amount of time spent waiting for doctors to see me. Today I arrived a few minutes early for a 10:30 AM appointment. I gave some blood for lab tests and then waited until after 12:30 PM to see my doctor. I never even got the results of my tests — I’m still waiting for that. The funny thing is that I would probably still be waiting to see the doctor if I hadn’t decided to cry and inform the nurse that I was not going to wait any longer. After my display, the nurse got the doctor, I got my exam, I paid, and then I got to leave. I got home at 2:00 PM. This is just one of many days spent waiting in doctor offices. I once waited four hours.
The reason for today’s appointment was to monitor my progress since receiving my first chemo treatment. I appear to be fine. No temperature. No mouth sores. No breathing problems. No irregular heart sounds. Hopefully I won’t have to wait much longer to see if my blood counts have dropped. I’m still waiting to see if my hair will fall out — for this, I am willing to wait.
My second chemo comes this Friday, February 4th at 8:00 AM. Chemo is the least of my worries right now. The waiting has been far worse.
Jacki Donaldson
My hair arrived
Tuesday, January 25th, 2005My new hair arrived today. It’s as close to my current color as it could be and a bit longer too. Once I lose my own hair and the underhair fits my head properly, I will cut it to look more like my current style. Until then, I will enjoy my own hair — which I really like right now. Ironically, I started growing out my bangs about six months ago. They are almost long enough to tuck behind my ear and stay out of my face. And now they are all going to fall out. It figures.
I went to a program today called “Look Good, Feel Better,” sponsored by the American Cancer Society. I got a box of goodies — moisturizers, make-up, sunscreen — and learned how to take care of my skin during treatment. I also learned how to pencil in eyebrows and how to care for wigs. One woman approached me and asked if I was a resident of the Hope Lodge — the location of the program. This lodge houses out-of-town cancer patients so they can receive their treatment in Gainesville. I told her I lived in town and get to drive myself to my appointments. So she gave me a tour of her room, which is like a nice hotel room, and all of the common areas of the lodge. There is a kitchen where everyone can cook for themselves, reserved refrigerator space for everyone, a TV room, and Bingo too!
This woman is also a breast cancer patient who is at the end of her chemo and is just beginning radiation. Her hair is just growing back — so are her eyebrows and eyelashes. So as I am about to lose my hair, this woman symbolizes the light at the end of tunnel.
Despite the pending hair loss, all is well. I feel good and other than my queasy Sunday, I do not have anything bad to report. Today was as normal as any other day. For that, I am thankful.
Queasy tummy & sore scalp
Sunday, January 23rd, 2005I’m feeling a bit more queasy today. It’s not horrible but I feel it. Hopefully, it doesn’t get any worse than this. And my scalp is sore — I’ve read that this happens prior to hair loss so I guess I’m right on track for that. I haven’t received my new hair in the mail, though, so I hope it gets here soon!
Other than the queasiness and the sore scalp, I feel fine. I wish I wasn’t having this experience at all . . . but I’m okay.
Jacki Donaldson
The day after chemo
Saturday, January 22nd, 2005I seem to be fine. I slept well, although I’m getting up to the go to the bathroom a lot with all the water I’m drinking. I will take my anti-nausea drug (Zofran) every 12 hours to prevent nausea — I won’t wait for it to set in so this is a proactive way to stop it before I feel it. Last night I did feel some type of feeling in my stomach but not nausea. I imagine if I was not taking the Zofran, I would feel nauseated so the feeling I have is probably the the little bit the drug can’t mask. But it’s nothing that will stop me from functioning.
I took my temperature this morning and it was 98.6. So far, I’m normal.
I keep picturing all the drugs that went into my body yesterday. Anti-nausea, a steroid, and the two types of chemo drugs. The Adriamycin is red (they call it Kool-Aid) and was hand-pushed into my port by the nurse. It took about 20 minutes. It’s a drug that can’t be left unattended. If it touches skin or tissue, it can burn so the nurse has to administer it. Then it took one hour for the Cytoxan to drip into my port via an IV bag. The nurse then flushed out my port to keep it clean. There is one additional drug I need to receive — Taxotere. It’s given after this 8-week round of chemo. I’m not yet sure if it will come directly after this round or during or after radiation. But it will be another chemo regimen.
My plans for today include exercise, a shot of Neulasta, and time spent with my three boys. Maybe a nap too — this cancer thing at least gives me a good excuse for naps!
Jacki Donaldson
Chemo #1
Friday, January 21st, 2005The chemo is done for today. I’ve had fluids, anti-nausea medication and the chemo drugs and now I’m home. The whole process took about 4.5 hours, and the worst part was the needle stick into my port. With the exception of one little scream when that happened, I think I was a pretty good patient. I had a private room with a private bathroom and my own TV. Tracy stayed with me the whole time and my mom came by too. I even had a visit from Larry Shyatt, one of the UF basketball coaches and player David Lee. I’ll take more anti-nausea medication tonight and will continue it as needed. I will have a shot of Neulasta tomorrow, and then will wait for two weeks until my next treatment on February 4th.
John and the boys are out on an outdoor adventure and I’m going to take a walk — I feel fine right now so I’m going to take advantage of it.
Jacki Donaldson
Chemo Eve
Thursday, January 20th, 2005I wished for chemo to begin sooner rather than later and I got my wish. Tomorrow it begins. I am glad for that — but I am nervous and scared and wish there was some other reason I’d be spending five hours in a medical clinic. But I am as prepared as possible — maybe not mentally, but I have all my stuff together which is typical of me. I like to organize and manage everything. I guess it makes me feel like I have some control. So I have a book and a magazine for reading. I have a DVD and will borrow Tracy’s portable DVD player. I have snacks and will take water too.
I drank one gallon of water today. I was told to drink one gallon the day before chemo, one gallon on the day of chemo, and one gallon the day after chemo — in order to fully hydrate my body for the chemo process. I’ve always had trouble drinking the recommended eight glasses per day so a gallon is a lot for me. But I did it. A small victory in the this whole cancer game.
On the eve of chemo, I am going to relax. I plan to watch the new Apprentice and ER. Then I will sleep. My sleep has not been affected in the past two months. I am thankful for that because I can’t compromise with my sleep — just ask John who did most of the newborn middle-of-the-night feedings in our house!
Sweet Dreams.
Jacki Donaldson
A change of plans; a change in attitude
Wednesday, January 19th, 2005And things change yet again! Due to scheduling issues, my chemo treatment has been changed to Friday, January 21. That suits me better. I will begin at 8:00 AM so my sister (Tracy) can take me on her way to work. She will stay with me for awhile, then go do some work, come back with my lunch, and then we’ll both learn how I will give myself a shot. Since I need a shot of Neulasta following each chemo treatment and the oncology offices are closed on Saturday (the next day), I have to be responsible for the shot myself! I will be in the infusion center for about five hours on Friday, and then Tracy will take me home. John will take the day off work to be with the boys — I’d like their days to remain as normal as possible — and then we’ll have the weekend together to see how I respond to the treatment.
I feel better now.
Jacki Donaldson
The wait for chemo
Wednesday, January 19th, 2005My chemo will begin on Tuesday, January 25th at 9:30 AM — not exactly what I’d expected since I was prepared to begin this week but I guess delays are inevitable. Still, it’s frustrating. I was diagnosed a whole two months ago and and I’m eager to get started. I suppose I wil try to enjoy the days I have remaining before chemo, while I feel healthy and good. This whole experience is sure teaching me to find good in what might first seem not-so-good.
Jacki Donaldson
I have a port
Friday, January 14th, 2005
My “infusaport” is in. The procedure went well. I was a bit sedated but otherwise conscious and then spent two hours in the recovery room, wide awake and feeling fine. I ate crackers and drank water and then my sister brought me lunch. I got dressed and we walked to an appointment in another part of the hospital. There I met with my oncologist and nurse and learned about every possible chemo side effect, got a tour of the “infusion” room, received prescriptions for all kinds of drugs I may have to take, and gave my offiical consent for chemotherapy. I will soon be contacted about my first treatment which will take place one day next week. Each day after a chemo treatment, I will go back in for an injection of Neulasta, a drug to help keep my white blood cells up.
Now I think I’ll rest. The numbness in my chest is wearing off and my neck is a bit stiff and sore. I can feel the little metal port under my skin and that is a bit annoying . The port is completely sewn under my skin, with a tube running into my jugular vein and then into my heart. When I get each chemo treatment, the nurse will locate the port and inject a needle into my skin which goes into the middle of the port. Then the medication goes in. With the port, I’ll avoid repeated needle sticks in my hands and arms. Blood can also be drawn from this port since I will be getting lab tests often.
The worst part of this procedure is that I cannot pick up Danny for 3 days — due to the strain it might have on the surgery site. I hope I can comply with that.
As always, Joey reminds me that this stuff is no big deal. When I got home after being gone for many hours, he just walked past me and mumbled a “hey” and went on with his business. If that’s not a reminder that life goes on despite illness, I don’t know what is.
Jacki Donaldson
The learning never ends
Wednesday, January 12th, 2005Some days I think I know all about my breast cancer. Then I read or hear something that prompts me to ask more questions. Today I learned that I am HER2/neu positive. That has something to do with the protein found in my lump. Because I am positive, I may have to take a drug called Herceptin to reduce my chances of recurrence. I also found out that I have a score of 7 on the Bloom Richardson scale. This refers to the features of the lump. A low score would indicate a not-so-odd lump and a high score might reveal a bizarre lump with aggressive tendencies. My score falls right in the middle. I also know now that my chest x-ray was normal (no spread of cancer to the chest) and so was my heart test.
Today I also talked to someone about genetic counseling. I shared all kinds of family information and will meet with a counselor in March. At this point I can elect to have blood tests to determine if I carry a gene for breast cancer. My mom and sister can also be tested to see if they carry the gene.
Tomorrow I will go learn about chemotherapy specifics and about the port placement. The port will be placed in my chest on Friday at 8:00 am. Then I will await chemo which will begin sometime next week.
Jacki Donaldson
Tests & a wig I won’t keep
Friday, January 7th, 2005I had my chest x-ray on Tuesday. On Thursday, I gave a vial of blood for use in a research study about breast cancer. I had a test done on my heart today. Next Thursday I will go for an evaluation of some sort prior to getting a port inserted into my chest. The port goes in next Friday. Chemotherapy will begin once the port is in place so it won’t be long now.
I am preparing for chemo. I ordered a wig a week ago and I got it today. I will send it back tomorrow. It’s too blond and too long and too fake for me. I think I will wear hats every day (not a bad thing since I wear ball caps often anyway). I plan to order what’s called “underhair.” It’s a soft white cap that fits tight to the head and has hair along the sides and back. It’s intended for use with hats. I found this at www.hiphat.com after a recommendation I saw on someone else’s breast cancer web journal.
Joey will be disappointed that I won’t keep the wig. He really liked it. He immediately put it on his head and then tried it on Danny. He told me it looked really pretty on me, and he asked me how I will get rid of the hair I already have on my head in order to wear a wig. So I told him for the first time that my hair will fall out once I start taking medicine. I asked him if he would help me shave my head once the hair starts coming out and he said, “I will.”
I am torn about whether or not I want chemo to start. Some moments, I don’t want to wait another week for it to begin. I want to get on with the process and actively get better. Other moments, I want to delay it because once it begins, I have to officially deal with it –hair loss and all.
I know I am getting better at dealing with it, though, and hopefully I will continue on this path. When I first got my diagnosis, I cried a lot. A doctor friend told me it’s okay to cry, but to limit it to 15 minutes per day. Now I don’t even cry every day. That must be progress.
Jacki Donaldson
A birthday & plans for chemo
Monday, January 3rd, 2005Four years ago today, I was in Halifax Hospital in Daytona Beach, Florida. At 12:48 PM, I gave birth to Joey. It was quite a day. Joey weighed 10 pounds, 9 ounces and was the biggest newborn baby I’d ever seen. Today, exactly four years after he was born, I was in the hospital again — this time at Shands in Gainesville, Florida. It was also quite a day.
Today I learned that I will begin chemotherapy in about one week. I have been prepared for this step in my breast cancer recovery but I was still secretly hoping a doctor would come along and tell me that I don’t actually need this treatment. But I do. And soon it will begin. First I need to get a chest X-ray. This will indicate whether or not there is any spread of cancer to my chest. Chances are good that nothing has spread but it will be done anyway. Then I need to have tests done on my heart for a baseline reading. One of my chemotherapy drugs can damage the heart muscle so this will allow for comparison as I undergo treatment. Then I will get a port, or central line, surgically inserted into my chest. This is how the drugs will enter my body each time I go for treatment.
My treatment will include three drugs — Adriamycin, Cytoxan, and Taxotere. I will go for “infusion” four times, every two weeks for eight weeks. Initially, I was told I would go every three weeks but this is a new protocol which speeds up the process (the other would take 12 weeks) and will allow me to get radiation sooner, once the chemo ends. But it’s more aggressive (with just two weeks to recover between treatments) so if I cannot tolerate it, I will switch to every three weeks. Each treatment will take about four hours (each drug takes a certain amount of time to enter the body) and I can read, eat, listen to music, or watch TV during the process. I will sit in a room with other patients who are also receiving chemo.
Prior to the start of chemo, I will meet with an oncology nurse who will prepare for what to expect with chemo. Side effects vary with each person. I may be tired and will be prone to infection. Nausea and vomiting can occur but there are drugs to prevent these side effects. The only pretty certain side effect is that I will lose my hair. People have recommended that I shave my head once I notice my hair falling out — it can be traumatic to watch it fall out in clumps — so I think I may have Joey shave it for me. He always wants to help me cut his daddy’s hair and I never let him. I really don’t want to lose my hair and I think Joey can help me bounce back from this experience. He has a very simple approach to life right now. When I was wimpering and whining about pulling off my bandages after surgery, he said, “Pull it off — you’re not going to die, mommy!”
Speaking of death, I do not think I will die from this cancer. Besides the statistics which are on my side (I have an 85% chance of survival), I really believe I will be fine in the end. I feel positive and confident and really only worry about how the treatments will affect me. I’m not good at giving up my routine. I want my family to function like it always has, and I may have to give a little. That makes me anxious. But I plan to take one day at a time.
I also plan to keep reading and talking to others who can share cancer experiences. I plan to look into complementary therapies (such as diet, exercise, natural remedies, relaxation) and I plan to keep writing.
Mostly, I plan to enjoy my new four-year-old and his little brother — and my family and friends and all that is good in my life!
Jacki Donaldson