We are celebrating my graduation into the second series of Chemotherapy injections. Pilgrim friends, say hi to my new drug Taxol! The best thing is that I don't have to worry about nausea with this new concoction. The bad thing is that there may be pain as a side effect. However, I have my prescription ready, and gladly will follow instructions and keep resting and minding my body's requests. As Sara says, we will get through this.
We are also celebrating our new awareness that the cancer which had invaded me in the form of a lump in my left breast and then had moved on to 8 of ten lymph nodes, should be seen as GONE. My oncologist clarified this for us this week, reminding me that the chemo I am undergoing and the radiation treatments to come should be seen as "adjuvant" treatment.
So what is "adjuvant"? To quote the very popular Wikipedia:
An example of adjuvant therapy is the additional treatment usually given after surgery where all detectable disease has been removed, but where there remains a statistical risk of relapse due to occult disease. If known disease is left behind following surgery, then further treatment is not technically adjuvant.
Wow, can you imagine how we felt? We, David and I, are pretty educated people, yet we had not absorbed this either intellectually or emotionally. So, up to now, we have been living with cancer, rather than living as survivors of cancer.
This is a huge emotional difference, and it is worth celebrating with loud alleluias, and trips to Stratford. (To each her own!)
I feel well today. My baking hormones seem to have been awakened, and I made banana bread with some over ripe bananas. Also made olive and onion bread from an old Greek recipe. The kitchen smells wonderful, and sweet David keeps making short trips to the kitchen, in hopes of some samples...
Lots to do and lots of waiting and work on my health yet. The next three chemo sessions are going to take five hours, instead of three, because taxol is infused more slowly. Staff are very mindful of reactions during the administration of the drug. It makes for lovely opportunities to chat with my nurse, get to know her better, and to offer my respect and gratitude for the amazing work that they do.
My veins were described as hard to find, very small. and flat. (I should be proud that anything in my body is small and flat!) What this means is that it is difficult to find them and to get a site ready for the infusion. One amazing nurse, in particular, is a very knowledgeable and something of a magical person in her experience locating small, flat veins. With enormous respect I called her a fine scientist and witch. Thank God that she understood my meaning, and told me later in the day that she had taken it as a huge compliment. That is how I had meant it, of course.
How blessed our region is to have such a superb Cancer Centre! There was a time when we had to travel far afield for these services, now they are available right in Kitchener.
I have to go. Must get prettied up for my trip to the theatre tonight; we will see each other around, soon, on the way to Santiago.
1 comment:
Wow. I never thought of it that way either. My sister had breast cancer over 4 years ago. She too must have been having adjuvant therapy when she had her chemo and radiation. She's been cancer free ever since.
Like you she found the experience enlightening. There was always something new to learn and new people to meet. Each treatment meant one less to get through. She and I actually had fun when she had to have her head shaved. She ended up not wearing her wig and being proudly bald. She now works for the Cancer Society.
You should be proud of your strength in making this difficult journey ... a journey back to health.
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