Treatment #6 has not been good to me, and although my nausea was better the first day due to the steroids, the nausea levels were about the same for Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I spent most of the past few days in bed, and I'm so tired of it. Today was a bit better, and I took a Zofran this morning, but I honestly can't tell that that particular med does anything for me.
I worked all day today and had to snack on carbs and low-sugar juices or unsweetened drinks (everything tastes sickly sweet from the Phenergan and Zofran) just to get through the day. I chewed a piece of gum until the flavor was gone, then I'd chew another, and I finally stopped when my jaw tired out.
I was determined to cook dinner and try to get back to normal, and I made a Shepherd's Pie and some Johnny Cakes tonight -- Barry and I loved it, but Traci picked around hers and said it looked like dog food! Where is the love? We always liked Shepherd's Pie in the cafeteria at college, and I know Kelsey likes it when it's served nowadays at OBU. Mine was very good if I do say so myself. I know I'm a good cook, and I'll admit when something doesn't measure up, but this was good enough to cook again. Sorry, Traci.
I did call the oncology office today and tell them that I needed something different to help with my nausea levels this next time because feeling how I did this weekend made me want to quit right here and now. The plan is to give me Emend with my next infusion, and then I will take an Emend pill a day for a few days after chemo. It's the same drug they gave me before my surgery in September, and it worked well and should keep the nausea at bay for about five days following my next chemo. I understand it's a high dollar drug, and one of the other chemo patients told me it requires special approval by the insurance companies since it runs about $100 a pill. I'm okay with that. I'm still an advocate of sedating chemo patients on day one of chemo and keeping them sedated for about five days, just to get them through the worst of it. I think if a doctor had to go through what a cancer patient goes through, this might be the way everyone would get treatment. Not kidding.
I know I'm on the upswing after this last round, and I'm still not 100%, but several people have asked how I was doing, and I wanted to give an update. The only really fun thing that I have to share is maybe some Girl Scout Cookies that just came in and are sitting on our kitchen cabinet. I don't think the cookies will last long, but they make me happy just remembering my Girl Scout days. Maybe the cookies will give me endorphins to help carry me through...hey, a new cancer therapy! Who knew?
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
February 15, 2011
I have always enjoyed living in an area where we have four seasons in a year, with those seasons lasting three months each according to the calendar. Sometimes the temperatures from one season may linger over into the next a bit much, and we get frustrated and long for a change. Maybe that's why I'm frustrated with this season in my life--I'm ready for a change. I'm ready to be well.
Several people have described breast cancer treatment to me as just a "major inconvenience" in their lives as they look back on it now from the survivor standpoint. As I am in the midst of it, it is more than an inconvenience in my opinion. It is all-controlling and consuming at times, and right before my chemo treatments, it is particularly overwhelming.
Yes, I am very anxious about my upcoming treatment on Thursday--mainly for the punch that the tiny red bag of Adriamycin will deliver to me. It knocked me off my feet the last time, and I didn't REALLY feel good for about five days. That's a long time. After the five days had passed, I felt good, though, and there was no fatigue like I had with my previous treatments. Woo hoo! Something to look forward to!
Chemo nausea is debilitating, and even throwing up doesn't help. Although they promise to give me additional drugs to help with nausea this time, and I'm well prepared with prescriptions, staying on top of queasiness is not easy. It can hit you when you least expect it, and it's unpredictable as to duration and strength. That's why my purse does double-duty as a pharmaceutical arsenal these days--it's full of anti-nausea meds, Sea Bands and Scop patches.
For the past four months, I've been very careful about being out and around the public during cold and flu season, and I've still caught a cold and had a stomach bug. I'm hoping I miss any of the bigger bugs that are out there, but I'm so ready not to have to worry about things like that. White and red blood counts are so important to not only my health, but they also dictate whether I can get chemo as scheduled, and fortunately, I've been normal or close to normal each time I've had my blood checked.
I'm sad to report that the silky, inch-long hair on my head that has been growing steadily since my head was shaved has just started to fall out again in the past couple of days. I was encouraged that these remnants of hair had lasted through the four rounds of Taxol and up until day 17 or 18 after this 5th round of chemo, but I suppose Cytoxan and Adriamycin had to make their mark on me in more ways than one. Several (well, two) of my guy friends have said they think I've never looked better. One actually called me "hot", and that's a stretch because I've never been hot in my entire life. It's the wig guys, and maybe it's a comment on the hairstyle I wore for more than 20 years, but I won't even have an opportunity to change hairstyles until I have some hair to change in the first place. That may be sometime during 2012 at this rate!
I remember back in August when it was so intensely hot here, and it really was miserable in Arkansas that month. Everyone wanted cooler weather, and it was such a relief when it came. And recently we've had frigidly cold temperatures with more than a little snow and ice, and just about everyone I know is ready for Spring. To add to it, the past few days have been such a blessing with tulips, hyacinths and daffodils peeking through the ground promising us of what they know will come soon.
And although I consider myself one of the lucky ones who is a survivor and I know that my treatment has an end in sight, I'm ready for this season of my life to be completed. I'm weary of the funny little tricks chemo plays on cancer patients. I'm so ready for a change for the better and just for me to be better. A season should know when it's time for a change and when it's over-stayed its welcome.
Several people have described breast cancer treatment to me as just a "major inconvenience" in their lives as they look back on it now from the survivor standpoint. As I am in the midst of it, it is more than an inconvenience in my opinion. It is all-controlling and consuming at times, and right before my chemo treatments, it is particularly overwhelming.
Yes, I am very anxious about my upcoming treatment on Thursday--mainly for the punch that the tiny red bag of Adriamycin will deliver to me. It knocked me off my feet the last time, and I didn't REALLY feel good for about five days. That's a long time. After the five days had passed, I felt good, though, and there was no fatigue like I had with my previous treatments. Woo hoo! Something to look forward to!
Chemo nausea is debilitating, and even throwing up doesn't help. Although they promise to give me additional drugs to help with nausea this time, and I'm well prepared with prescriptions, staying on top of queasiness is not easy. It can hit you when you least expect it, and it's unpredictable as to duration and strength. That's why my purse does double-duty as a pharmaceutical arsenal these days--it's full of anti-nausea meds, Sea Bands and Scop patches.
For the past four months, I've been very careful about being out and around the public during cold and flu season, and I've still caught a cold and had a stomach bug. I'm hoping I miss any of the bigger bugs that are out there, but I'm so ready not to have to worry about things like that. White and red blood counts are so important to not only my health, but they also dictate whether I can get chemo as scheduled, and fortunately, I've been normal or close to normal each time I've had my blood checked.
I'm sad to report that the silky, inch-long hair on my head that has been growing steadily since my head was shaved has just started to fall out again in the past couple of days. I was encouraged that these remnants of hair had lasted through the four rounds of Taxol and up until day 17 or 18 after this 5th round of chemo, but I suppose Cytoxan and Adriamycin had to make their mark on me in more ways than one. Several (well, two) of my guy friends have said they think I've never looked better. One actually called me "hot", and that's a stretch because I've never been hot in my entire life. It's the wig guys, and maybe it's a comment on the hairstyle I wore for more than 20 years, but I won't even have an opportunity to change hairstyles until I have some hair to change in the first place. That may be sometime during 2012 at this rate!
I remember back in August when it was so intensely hot here, and it really was miserable in Arkansas that month. Everyone wanted cooler weather, and it was such a relief when it came. And recently we've had frigidly cold temperatures with more than a little snow and ice, and just about everyone I know is ready for Spring. To add to it, the past few days have been such a blessing with tulips, hyacinths and daffodils peeking through the ground promising us of what they know will come soon.
And although I consider myself one of the lucky ones who is a survivor and I know that my treatment has an end in sight, I'm ready for this season of my life to be completed. I'm weary of the funny little tricks chemo plays on cancer patients. I'm so ready for a change for the better and just for me to be better. A season should know when it's time for a change and when it's over-stayed its welcome.
February 6, 2011
Just a quick note to let everyone know that I haven't had to take any anti-nausea meds since Wednesday night. I have still had a few moments of queasiness, particularly around luncthtime or when I feel stressed. I don't know why stress seems to aggravate it, but it does.
My blood levels were good again on Thursday, and the oncology folks promise they will give me more "goodies" in my infusion on the 17th to help with nausea. And I believe that means I will get more steroids which come with their own set of fun -- difficulty sleeping, eating everything in sight, flushed skin, more rapid heartbeat. Fun.
Over the past few days I've come to the conclusion that I will just have to deal with nausea with the next three treatments when it comes and for however long it stays. These drugs aren't causing the aching bones that I had with Taxol, and I'm definitely not as fatigued, and I don't know why I've been spared the fatigue.
For the past couple of days, I have cleaned house and cooked and ironed and just done things that I have wanted to do. Some of you may be saying I'm crazy to "want" to do things like that, but I LIKE cooking and cleaning and doing like that. I'm just so thankful that I have felt good enough to be up and doing!
So, I have another week and a half of feeling relatively good before getting hit again and then having to recover. But that's the way it is with chemo.
My blood levels were good again on Thursday, and the oncology folks promise they will give me more "goodies" in my infusion on the 17th to help with nausea. And I believe that means I will get more steroids which come with their own set of fun -- difficulty sleeping, eating everything in sight, flushed skin, more rapid heartbeat. Fun.
Over the past few days I've come to the conclusion that I will just have to deal with nausea with the next three treatments when it comes and for however long it stays. These drugs aren't causing the aching bones that I had with Taxol, and I'm definitely not as fatigued, and I don't know why I've been spared the fatigue.
For the past couple of days, I have cleaned house and cooked and ironed and just done things that I have wanted to do. Some of you may be saying I'm crazy to "want" to do things like that, but I LIKE cooking and cleaning and doing like that. I'm just so thankful that I have felt good enough to be up and doing!
So, I have another week and a half of feeling relatively good before getting hit again and then having to recover. But that's the way it is with chemo.
January 31, 2011 - My Heroes
I had a horrible weekend with nausea that just wouldn't stop, but my friend, Janice, suggested alternating Zofran and Phenergan to get ahead of the nausea and keep it at bay. I tried it last night, and it worked! I cut my Phenergan in fourths today to take every few hours --enough to take the edge off but not enough to wipe me out. It may take a few days to get over this treatment, but I am thankful to friends who give me good suggestions to help me like this. I was pretty desperate.
I've mentioned my friend Teresa Albritton Berry here several times, and we have a lot of history together. We traipsed across Europe between our junior and senior years of high school, worked together at her daddy's steakhouse, had sleepovers, shopped together, ate together and laughed and plotted and planned together as we went off to Ouachita where we were roommates. We shared many ups and downs, and although we've been apart geographically for the past 28 years, we have stayed tied emotionally along with a group of about seven other close girlfriends. (And there are stories about each and every one of those girlfriends, too, but we are like the Ya-Yas, and those stories cannot be divulged.)
One thing Teresa and I have shared over the past couple of years that I wish we hadn't, is cancer--she as a caregiver to her husband, David, and me as a breast cancer survivor still in treatment. Today, David lost his battle to cancer, and I am certain beyond certain that he is in heaven rejoicing as I type this.
My cell phone rang this morning while I was sucking on crunchy ice pieces at work, and I saw the name, "Teresa Berry" on the caller ID. I hesitated before answering because I knew Teresa would be telling me David was gone. What I didn't expect to hear from her were strong words of encouragement and hope for me. She told me that she knew how hard the struggle was when chemo caused nausea that was hard to control, because she had witnessed it firsthand. She told me that now, at this time in my life, it was all about me, and to just focus on getting well because I WOULD get well, and that the end was in sight. She also told me as we both cried that she didn't want David's death to discourage me in my journey as she knew it might. She wanted it to spur me on toward the prize at the end--being cancer free.
I thought I knew Teresa, but I never knew she was so strong. She and David are my heroes tonight.
I've mentioned my friend Teresa Albritton Berry here several times, and we have a lot of history together. We traipsed across Europe between our junior and senior years of high school, worked together at her daddy's steakhouse, had sleepovers, shopped together, ate together and laughed and plotted and planned together as we went off to Ouachita where we were roommates. We shared many ups and downs, and although we've been apart geographically for the past 28 years, we have stayed tied emotionally along with a group of about seven other close girlfriends. (And there are stories about each and every one of those girlfriends, too, but we are like the Ya-Yas, and those stories cannot be divulged.)
One thing Teresa and I have shared over the past couple of years that I wish we hadn't, is cancer--she as a caregiver to her husband, David, and me as a breast cancer survivor still in treatment. Today, David lost his battle to cancer, and I am certain beyond certain that he is in heaven rejoicing as I type this.
My cell phone rang this morning while I was sucking on crunchy ice pieces at work, and I saw the name, "Teresa Berry" on the caller ID. I hesitated before answering because I knew Teresa would be telling me David was gone. What I didn't expect to hear from her were strong words of encouragement and hope for me. She told me that she knew how hard the struggle was when chemo caused nausea that was hard to control, because she had witnessed it firsthand. She told me that now, at this time in my life, it was all about me, and to just focus on getting well because I WOULD get well, and that the end was in sight. She also told me as we both cried that she didn't want David's death to discourage me in my journey as she knew it might. She wanted it to spur me on toward the prize at the end--being cancer free.
I thought I knew Teresa, but I never knew she was so strong. She and David are my heroes tonight.
January 29, 2011
Although I'm glad my heart volume function was at 67% when the average is 45%, I must say that I'm not glad that it allowed me to get the drug Adriamycin. Actually, I'm not sure if it was that drug or the Cytoxan that has made me so sick, but they've done me in this time.
I was explaining to my mom this week that the Taxol treatments I got were specifically to attack rapidly multiplying cells such as cancer, and I am finished with that drug. Since hair, skin and nails are more rapidly growing cells, that part of my body has been affected, and my hair has fallen out and my skin is as dry as a desert. I can't see that my nails have been affected at all, and for that, I'm thankful.
The Adriamycin and Cytoxan are the type of drugs that attack the DNA of cancer cells, and the ONLY way I'm seeing benefit in these two drugs right now is picturing them destroying any remaining cancer cells in my body. Other than that, I would be fine if they came in next week and said, "No more chemo for you. You've been such a trooper"! But they aren't going to say that, and I have three more treatments of this sucky stuff to go.
The infusion of the new drugs is quick, and once they started it, I was out of the oncology office in an hour. I ate lunch around 12:30 and then laid down to rest. When I woke up at 3:00, I was so nauseated, I could barely lift my head. So I took another Phenergan, and I really don't like Phenergan because it makes things like water taste sweet, and I can't really tell that it helps that much with nausea. It's been the same every time I have taken it over the years, and I took four in a 12-hour period and was still nauseated and also felt kind of drugged out.
I was able to work all day on Friday (actually I left at 4:30, but don't tell my boss), and I didn't feel the same level of nausea that I did on Thursday. After dinner I took more Phenergan, got my bath and headed to bed.
When I got up this morning, it was the same general nauseated feeling, and I knew I had to have something more, so I got the doctor to call in some Zofran. It has helped quite a bit, and the good news is that it doesn't make me sleepy. I'm still draggy, and I haven't accomplished nearly as much in my house at I usually do--hoping tomorrow is much better.
It has been such a beautiful day outside, and I have longed to get in the car and just go somewhere with my family. I was jealous of people's Facebook posts talking about going shopping, being at the mall, going on a picnic, going to the zoo. And here I was, up and down from my bed or chair all through the day.
And Barry has been so patient and good to me, and I love him all the more for it. He drove to Memphis and got dinner from Huey's tonight, and we all sat around our kitchen bar and had take-out once again. Traci has cleaned up the kitchen, emptied the dishwasher, folded clothes--and really done whatever I've asked her to do. My problem is that I want to be doing what they're doing without it wearing me out! It's hard to change our basic makeup, and I've always been a do-er.
On a last note tonight, I would ask that you please say a special prayer for David Berry, the husband of my friend and former college roomie, Teresa Albritton Berry. David has had esophageal cancer for the past couple of years, and he is having a particularly difficult time right now and is in critical condition in ICU. Please pray for his comfort and strength and for his family as they deal with all the issues related to cancer and its treatments. His CaringBridge site is "berryupdates".
I was explaining to my mom this week that the Taxol treatments I got were specifically to attack rapidly multiplying cells such as cancer, and I am finished with that drug. Since hair, skin and nails are more rapidly growing cells, that part of my body has been affected, and my hair has fallen out and my skin is as dry as a desert. I can't see that my nails have been affected at all, and for that, I'm thankful.
The Adriamycin and Cytoxan are the type of drugs that attack the DNA of cancer cells, and the ONLY way I'm seeing benefit in these two drugs right now is picturing them destroying any remaining cancer cells in my body. Other than that, I would be fine if they came in next week and said, "No more chemo for you. You've been such a trooper"! But they aren't going to say that, and I have three more treatments of this sucky stuff to go.
The infusion of the new drugs is quick, and once they started it, I was out of the oncology office in an hour. I ate lunch around 12:30 and then laid down to rest. When I woke up at 3:00, I was so nauseated, I could barely lift my head. So I took another Phenergan, and I really don't like Phenergan because it makes things like water taste sweet, and I can't really tell that it helps that much with nausea. It's been the same every time I have taken it over the years, and I took four in a 12-hour period and was still nauseated and also felt kind of drugged out.
I was able to work all day on Friday (actually I left at 4:30, but don't tell my boss), and I didn't feel the same level of nausea that I did on Thursday. After dinner I took more Phenergan, got my bath and headed to bed.
When I got up this morning, it was the same general nauseated feeling, and I knew I had to have something more, so I got the doctor to call in some Zofran. It has helped quite a bit, and the good news is that it doesn't make me sleepy. I'm still draggy, and I haven't accomplished nearly as much in my house at I usually do--hoping tomorrow is much better.
It has been such a beautiful day outside, and I have longed to get in the car and just go somewhere with my family. I was jealous of people's Facebook posts talking about going shopping, being at the mall, going on a picnic, going to the zoo. And here I was, up and down from my bed or chair all through the day.
And Barry has been so patient and good to me, and I love him all the more for it. He drove to Memphis and got dinner from Huey's tonight, and we all sat around our kitchen bar and had take-out once again. Traci has cleaned up the kitchen, emptied the dishwasher, folded clothes--and really done whatever I've asked her to do. My problem is that I want to be doing what they're doing without it wearing me out! It's hard to change our basic makeup, and I've always been a do-er.
On a last note tonight, I would ask that you please say a special prayer for David Berry, the husband of my friend and former college roomie, Teresa Albritton Berry. David has had esophageal cancer for the past couple of years, and he is having a particularly difficult time right now and is in critical condition in ICU. Please pray for his comfort and strength and for his family as they deal with all the issues related to cancer and its treatments. His CaringBridge site is "berryupdates".
January 26, 2011 - MUGA Scan
I had my MUGA scan today (pronounced MUG-u as in rootbeer), which was a Multi-Gated Acquisition scan of my heart. The test was basically to see how much volume my heart is currently pumping and to make sure it is at a certain level before they give me any chemo that can weaken my heart.
They drew a vial of blood, added radioactive isotopes to it and then re-injected the blood into my arm. So much for using my port for things like this, but I think it was too close to my heart or something of that nature to put the radioactivity there. I've grown fairly accustomed to discomfort and pain, but this "little" stick and flushing with saline did not feel good, and I had to whine about it to the guy who stuck me, and of course, to Barry.
With the glowing blood coursing through my veins, they put me under a scanner that basically made a movie my heart, with views of it pumping from different angles. The results were being faxed over to the oncology clinic this afternoon, and tomorrow morning I'll find out if my heart is strong enough to endure four treatments of Ardriamycin.
Frankly, I don't think they should give people medication that can hurt other parts of the body like that. Just sayin'.
Although the doctor said the radioactivity in my body would not interact adversely with a chemo treatment, I've been having flashbacks to the movie, Patriot Games, where they are able to detect people's bodies with infrared guns. I'm wondering if there is a satellite in space even as I type this that is detecting a radioactive being a/k/a "alien" sitting at a computer in Marion, Arkansas, glowing in both light and dark?
The technician said the radioactivity would be completely out of my system in 60 hours and even faster if I drink a lot. He didn't tell me what to drink, but I guess I'll stick with water!
I am still anxious about my chemo with new drugs because there could be a whole new set of side effects. I did really well with Taxol, and even though I hated it, I knew what it would do to me. I was so disappointed last week not to get the treatment behind me when I was all psyched up for it, but it was actually nice to have a week where I felt very good.
Just for the record and as if I haven't whined enough today, I still dislike my port very, very much, and it's so easy to make it tender and sore. I guarantee it will be coming out very soon after my last chemo. I still have numb spots under my arm from my surgery, and I don't like having my lymph nodes gone from that part of my body. I haven't had any noticeable swelling in my arm, but I often feel a tightness in my upper arm similar to what it would feel like if I were wearing a too-tight sleeve. I have odd pains in my breast where they removed the tumor, and I know they are healing pains, but they are uncomfortable nonetheless. My liver is tender from my treatments, and I know it's okay because they test my liver enzymes before each treatment, but it bothers me that yet another part of my body is affected. I still have very little hair, but it has grown back about an inch--it will probably all fall out in the next few weeks with these new drugs. Let's see, is that all that bothers me? I'd better stop here or I might start feeling sorry for myself.
It's crazy to think that we all go through life feeling pretty good, doing our jobs and very honestly, taking things for granted. I never knew how good I felt in the past until they started treating me for breast cancer. I am soooo looking forward to feeling really good again.
They drew a vial of blood, added radioactive isotopes to it and then re-injected the blood into my arm. So much for using my port for things like this, but I think it was too close to my heart or something of that nature to put the radioactivity there. I've grown fairly accustomed to discomfort and pain, but this "little" stick and flushing with saline did not feel good, and I had to whine about it to the guy who stuck me, and of course, to Barry.
With the glowing blood coursing through my veins, they put me under a scanner that basically made a movie my heart, with views of it pumping from different angles. The results were being faxed over to the oncology clinic this afternoon, and tomorrow morning I'll find out if my heart is strong enough to endure four treatments of Ardriamycin.
Frankly, I don't think they should give people medication that can hurt other parts of the body like that. Just sayin'.
Although the doctor said the radioactivity in my body would not interact adversely with a chemo treatment, I've been having flashbacks to the movie, Patriot Games, where they are able to detect people's bodies with infrared guns. I'm wondering if there is a satellite in space even as I type this that is detecting a radioactive being a/k/a "alien" sitting at a computer in Marion, Arkansas, glowing in both light and dark?
The technician said the radioactivity would be completely out of my system in 60 hours and even faster if I drink a lot. He didn't tell me what to drink, but I guess I'll stick with water!
I am still anxious about my chemo with new drugs because there could be a whole new set of side effects. I did really well with Taxol, and even though I hated it, I knew what it would do to me. I was so disappointed last week not to get the treatment behind me when I was all psyched up for it, but it was actually nice to have a week where I felt very good.
Just for the record and as if I haven't whined enough today, I still dislike my port very, very much, and it's so easy to make it tender and sore. I guarantee it will be coming out very soon after my last chemo. I still have numb spots under my arm from my surgery, and I don't like having my lymph nodes gone from that part of my body. I haven't had any noticeable swelling in my arm, but I often feel a tightness in my upper arm similar to what it would feel like if I were wearing a too-tight sleeve. I have odd pains in my breast where they removed the tumor, and I know they are healing pains, but they are uncomfortable nonetheless. My liver is tender from my treatments, and I know it's okay because they test my liver enzymes before each treatment, but it bothers me that yet another part of my body is affected. I still have very little hair, but it has grown back about an inch--it will probably all fall out in the next few weeks with these new drugs. Let's see, is that all that bothers me? I'd better stop here or I might start feeling sorry for myself.
It's crazy to think that we all go through life feeling pretty good, doing our jobs and very honestly, taking things for granted. I never knew how good I felt in the past until they started treating me for breast cancer. I am soooo looking forward to feeling really good again.
January 20, 2011
Frustration can't begin to describe what I'm feeling right now. I get to my chemotherapy facility, and a CBC is done, and my blood work comes back normal. After a few minutes, one of the nurses tells me that the doctor wants to visit with me about the new drugs before starting treatment, so I start to gather up my bag to go to an examination room. I see the doctor coming into the treatment area, and he rolls a stool over to my recliner and sits down, and he says I will need a heart scan before starting treatment with one of the new drugs I'll be getting, the Adriamycin. I said, "Fine" and naively asked if they had me set up for the test to take place and then come back for chemo. The doctor said I wouldn't be getting chemo today and that the heart scan (MUGA - Multi Gated Acquisition Scan) would need to be set up at the hospital and once the results were back, I would then be re-scheduled for chemo.
I looked at the doctor in a state of shock and said, "So I won't be getting chemo today?" And he replied that he could give me the chemo without doing the heart scan, but he didn't recommend proceeding that way. I told him I totally understood the safety concerns and wanted to go ahead with the heart scan before chemo, but I told him I was extremely frustrated that he hadn't looked at my chart before today so that the heart scan could have been set up at some point over the past three weeks following my last chemo. I told him I had taken off work and made arrangements for chemo just as I always do on regular chemo days, and that a friend had taken the time to drive me to treatment, and I also told him I had called three times over the past few weeks asking different questions and as recently as yesterday, I asked again if there was anything I needed to do to prepare myself for the two new drugs I would be getting. No one said a thing about getting a heart scan. He could hear the shakiness in my voice as I spoke, and he said, "Can I drive you home?" And then he said he was sorry it had worked out this way and he asked my forgiveness.
I did feel a bit sorry for him because I gave him a tongue-lashing about not reviewing my chart before the day of treatment. Not acceptable in my book. I told him I had been very pleased with everything I had encountered so far at this facility, but that this type of thing should not happen with any patient.
I had researched Adriamycin enough to know that a heart scan should be done prior to its administration, and I told Barry last night that I guessed they were going to use my heart readings from my surgery as the baseline since they hadn't said anything about any additional testing. Serves me right for assuming.
I guess I need to be more of a go-with-the-flow type of person, but I am definitely not there yet. I like some orderliness amidst the chaos of life, and this upset my apple cart. Maybe in the big scheme of things, I will feel better about having my chemo schedule put off for a few weeks, but right now I'm just not feeling it. Cancer has derailed my life for too much already.
(By the way, I told the doctor that of course I would forgive him, but for him not to let things like this happen again. When I talked to Barry after leaving the doctor's office, I told him it seemed ironic that this Muslim doctor was asking his Christian patient for forgiveness.)
I looked at the doctor in a state of shock and said, "So I won't be getting chemo today?" And he replied that he could give me the chemo without doing the heart scan, but he didn't recommend proceeding that way. I told him I totally understood the safety concerns and wanted to go ahead with the heart scan before chemo, but I told him I was extremely frustrated that he hadn't looked at my chart before today so that the heart scan could have been set up at some point over the past three weeks following my last chemo. I told him I had taken off work and made arrangements for chemo just as I always do on regular chemo days, and that a friend had taken the time to drive me to treatment, and I also told him I had called three times over the past few weeks asking different questions and as recently as yesterday, I asked again if there was anything I needed to do to prepare myself for the two new drugs I would be getting. No one said a thing about getting a heart scan. He could hear the shakiness in my voice as I spoke, and he said, "Can I drive you home?" And then he said he was sorry it had worked out this way and he asked my forgiveness.
I did feel a bit sorry for him because I gave him a tongue-lashing about not reviewing my chart before the day of treatment. Not acceptable in my book. I told him I had been very pleased with everything I had encountered so far at this facility, but that this type of thing should not happen with any patient.
I had researched Adriamycin enough to know that a heart scan should be done prior to its administration, and I told Barry last night that I guessed they were going to use my heart readings from my surgery as the baseline since they hadn't said anything about any additional testing. Serves me right for assuming.
I guess I need to be more of a go-with-the-flow type of person, but I am definitely not there yet. I like some orderliness amidst the chaos of life, and this upset my apple cart. Maybe in the big scheme of things, I will feel better about having my chemo schedule put off for a few weeks, but right now I'm just not feeling it. Cancer has derailed my life for too much already.
(By the way, I told the doctor that of course I would forgive him, but for him not to let things like this happen again. When I talked to Barry after leaving the doctor's office, I told him it seemed ironic that this Muslim doctor was asking his Christian patient for forgiveness.)
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