Slap

This roller coaster journey of cancer is constantly changing and challenging me.  I have felt so good the past week, been so strong and upbeat.  And then the slap in the face comes when you don't expect it and knocks you down for a bit.  Yesterday I went in for a "wound check" and a CBC.  Basically I had to have the bandage changed after a week of having my port procedure and then a blood test to check all my blood count levels.  It was going to be simple and quick.  Until you ask questions because this is all new, and you see the numbers printed out on paper and then it feels like knowledge punched right in the face.
  I was going to just pop in for my appointment after dropping Elliot off with my parents, but my mom wanted to go with me.  Molly picked Elliot up since she had the day off and took him with her and the girls to an indoor play place (the cousins have been majorly missing one another- and me too since we aren't seeing each other hours upon hours every day like we are used to).  My nurse was very knowledgable about so much, but infusion isn't where she always works.  We told her this was my first time coming in for a CBC, and I was only one week out from my first chemo treatment.  She took so much time with us and explained, writing notes and printing out my papers so that we kind of understood more of this new huge book of cancer. I wasn't prepared emotionally to see how low my numbers were.  I know that it is part of the cycle, and it is normal and expected but man it hit me.  For example, my white cells were at 5.5 last week before any chemo had been given.  They have to be at least 1.0 for them to give you chemo.  My level yesterday was 0.3    That means I am super vulnerable right now to infection and everything.  Scary.  I also learned that the shot I get on day two (the day after chemo) that helps with boosting your blood count levels takes 7-10 days to work.  The good news is that after a pretty miserable day today my bones started aching... they told me yesterday that is a sign your shot is kicking in (oh and to take claritin the allergy medicine to help with the bone pain).  So today I felt crummy, and am so scared of getting sick, and then my body just started to ache.   I pray that this is the lowest point of the cycle, and tomorrow everything starts improving so that I feel better but most importantly so that my body gets strong enough so that next week I can have chemo to kill this  stupid cancer, which will start the cycle of low blood count and feeling crummy all over again.

 The fatigue has started.  Even being sick the past few months I still was able to just keep up with normal life (or so I think I did).  Not these days.  I had plans to tackle some laundry, because not only is the clean laundry stacking up needing to be taken care of so was the dirty (because in 4 days the basket is full). I wanted to get rid of germs, and after Elliot fell on his bike and was so distraught over it I put him in the bath at 3pm to relax and get clean, then into clean pajamas.  Gabby walked in the door from getting off the bus and I had the bath running now for her, nope I won't hug you or touch you and you can't have snack just yet.  In the tub to wash and clean pajamas.  Well if you are all clean like that you also need clean sheets so that was my plan.  I got as far as getting the sheets off of both kids bed, they made it as far as the hallway floor.  I was winded almost and a little tuckered out.  A few hours later Clay and I made the beds, but I am just not used to this lack of strength and energy.  

  Blessings are still plenty, in so many ways.  I have barely been nauseated.  It may be an indicator that if you have nausea during pregnancy it might be similar to what you experience during chemo.  I had great pregnancies, no nausea to speak of besides maybe throwing up twice in two babies!  I have had a touch of throwing up, starting Saturday night and a bit more Sunday.  I took the nausea medicine every 12 hours and it helped. Today I didn't take any and felt fine (besides the whole crummy feeling, but not stomach related).  I am overcome by the outpouring of support in so many ways.  I just found out that people have sent checks to help us, it brings me to tears and humbles me and makes me feel ridiculous at the same time.  It's not that I hate taking help, but I feel guilty about it sometimes- but I know we can use it and I know people truly want to do whatever it is they can to help us.  Thank you.   How amazing is it that we are receiving a box of organic fruit and vegetables (just had to ask clay to spell vegetable bc chemo brain is a real thing) to help nourish our bodies.  My parents good friend who also happens to be a commercial fisherman brought 2 cases of incredible canned salmon to their house for us to split- which I proceeded to eat an entire can of when I got there later that day.  The next day as I was leaving my parents house he showed up with beautiful sides of frozen salmon.  I got a little package in the mail from a friend with ginger and chapstick.  My running ladies have been loading me up with gifts, freezer meals, cards, flowers, and then they showered me with a box full of scarves.  All different styles and prints, with tags pinned on them such as "for days to feel pretty, for days to fight (camo print), for days to feel sexy (leopard)".  Mindi has been my medical go to with all of this, she knows the radiologist who read my scans and do my procedures.  I ask her all questions. She filled a stylish bag up with goodies, lotion, scarves, socks, candy, and more.  The kids friends mom, who has become a close friend of mine gave me a cancer care box before I started chemo, her dad has been going thru chemo the past few years so she had an insight of things I would need before I knew I needed them... special toothpaste and mouthwash, a few bottles of hand sanitizer and a spray for the house, lollipops, chapsticks and lotions, a journal, gift cards for food and music.  My sweet friend Andrea calls and checks on me, and takes Elliot to soccer so I can stay home and have a detoxing mustard bath and sleep. She gives me vitamin powder to help my body be strong, she makes the best and most satisfying beet salad and her whole family came over after I cut my hair and her husband gave me a very special blessing. Another friend has given me a tablet to use.  I have a meal train that started this week, and last week Molly made us dinner 3 nights at least. Danny got me some flavor drops for water. My big strong cousin calls and texts me to check on me and see if I need anything. Our friend, a young single Navy guy in California texts me too, to see how I am. Evelyn holding my hand tonight non stop and giving me un-prompted hugs because she loves me and hasn't seen me much in weeks (avoiding all the germs). My mother in law who left warm and sunny CA only to be back here were it snowed 3 times the first week she was back to help us with the kids. Just everything is overwhelming to me, the kindness I feel is so strong that as I type all this Clay keeps asking me "you okay dear?" because he can hear me breathing as I cry and tears stream down my face to my sore chest.  
  On another note I keep wondering whom I will meet during this journey.  Will I get to know other patients at the cancer center? In the waiting room I met my first friend.  I think her name was Marie, and she is probably 75. She has lung cancer even tho she hasn't smoked a day in her life.  Funny thing is that when my mom and I are at the center everyone must assume we are there for her, she has half her head shaved and I am "young and healthy"  (that's what I keep hearing for the past few months, it's good to hear but hurts too... So young and healthy except this cancer I have we almost joke about it.  Young skin, when they do procedures and are used to the old people).  Marie was a character, doesn't like strong coffee but chemo brain for her means she didn't think to add some of the hot water that was next to the coffee to make it weaker.  My mom says something about us being there for me, not here and that she just had brain surgery.  "What'd you do, go and have brain surgery or somethin'?" Yes my mom says, "oh that's terrible."  What kind of cancer do I have she asked, Lymphoma I reply- blood.  The perfect response from her, a two year member to me a brand new member of the club no one wants to be a member of- "diagnosis is scary isn't it."  Followed by "you don't even look sick!"  Yep, I have about two more weeks of hair left I hear.