Then came 7

So it's been awhile, and quite a lot has happened.  I did cycle #7 and it was just harder than the others.  I knew that each time it could be worse since it is cumulitive and your body is weaker each time from all the previous cycles.  After 7 I was exhausted and didn't feel that great for almost the whole two weeks.  Gabby had gotten sick the Friday leading into Memorial weekend, just a cold we thought.  Our good friend Ryan flew in from San Diego to visit us and celebrate my remission before he moved to Virginia.  Gabby still wasn't feeling good and still had a low grade temperature.  I had called the Nurse line and asked if I should bring her in, and they decided that since it had been so many days with a fever and her throat had been a touch sore that it would be better to bring her in.  I knew it was not the best idea, but I brought her myself to the Dr appointment (Clay was at school, my mom had Char at swim lessons, my dad had Elliot hiking, and our appt was 30 min after I called) It just so happened to be when I was neutropenic (low blood count, most at risk for infection) so I wore a mask.  Gabby talked to the large male nurse and asked him a million questions and tried getting out of him doing the strep test on her.  He even stuck the swab down his throat to show her what a gag was.  She eventually, but reluctantly allowed him to do the test.  Came back positive, strep it was.
     I went for my normal blood draw the next day, my counts were low but thats normal.  I had been a little short of breath, but the nurse attributed that to my low hemoglobin levels.  She said if it got worse or I felt bad than to come back in.  I rested for days.  The weekend I was tried half the day but after sleeping (and Elliot making mischief ) I was able to function and we got out.  Sunday night I woke up twice and was out of breath as I went potty. I could barely catch my breath and it wasn't a very good feeling. I went back in Monday to have them re-check my levels.  They had gone down even more, plus my shortness of breath made me qualify for a blood transfusion.  Tuesday I spent the day at the hospital (what a dump compared to my fancy cancer center it seemed) getting two units of blood.  Clay and I napped snuggled up together in the hospital bed for a few hours, both wiped out from all that has been going on.  It took 7 hours, and I thought it was going to be the miracle to feeling better. For dinner I walked the one house down to my sisters house.  I sat on her couch trying to catch my breath for a few minutes.  When I headed home alone to go to sleep, still tired even though all I had done was sleep and lay around, Molly insisted on walking me home.  I was that much a mess.  Wednesday morning I worried about how I would get Gabby down to the end of our street to catch the bus since Clay would be gone to school.  Luckily my dear Mom showed up, she got Gabby down to the bus and then she was off to swim lessons with Charlotte.  Elliot and I just hung out, me laying around mostly.  My mom came back after swim lessons and had Elliot and I go back home with her so I didn't have to worry about falling asleep and taking care of Elliot.
     My regular doctor appointment was scheduled for late that afternoon, Clay picked up Gabby and brought her to my parents and then we were off to talk with Dr K.  "You don't look so good" is what he said to me, my reply "you've never seen me without eyebrows!" So yes, my eyebrows and eyelashes mostly all fell out last month.  Elliot said he could count them if the hairs were further apart.  Gabby did count my eyelashes this week, left eye 12 lashes- right eye 8 (down to 4 today).  We talked about all my symptoms, and how miserable I had been feeling. The fear- heart damage.  I cried, he rubbed my back (even though he apologized for "not being one of those doctors who will hold your hand and cry with you").  We could wait around and get tests ordered, but that would take days.  He sent us to the ER.  I walk in looking all bald and sick, why am I there? My Dr sent me for being short of breath. So that's a great way to avoid sitting around and waiting.  I was whisked back to a room and hooked up to some monitoring machines- yet no oxygen for an hour or so.   They did an EKG, chest X-ray, chest CT scan with contrast, urine test, two blood tests. The diagnosis: pneumonia.  It was amazing news to hear- considering what else they could have said. Started on antibiotics, admitted and moved to my own room- all in 5.5 hours.
     The first night was awful, out of breath. horribly dry mouth from the oxygen. unable to sleep.  scared. cold. chapstick across the room.  Talking with a handful of different doctors, all with a little bit of different things to say.  Dr K pushed for me to get an Echo to check on my heart more.  Results of that came back with my heart is great. Day 3 in the hospital and still on oxygen, not getting any better.  Another chest x-ray and another EKG.  The pulmonary specialist came in to talk, lets just say he isn't the greatest with people skills. He scared me, telling me a million things that could be wrong and questioning me about "why my stomach is high in my diaphragm.'' He did change my antibiotics since the others were not doing much of anything. We scheduled a bronchoscopy for Monday since it requires a specialized team that wouldn't be there Sunday.  No food or water from breakfast till after the 3pm procedure- considering I had been guzzling water by the gallon this was going to be no fun. To date I will say the bronchoscopy is the worst thing I have had done (second is a tie between the bone marrow biopsy which hurt and the port placement which I was knocked out for but recovery was uncomfortable for days).  I swear they didn't give me the IV drugs till after they shoved and had me sniff the scope up my nose and down my throat.  I got out of recovery feeling so much better, they must have suctioned tons of fluid out of my lungs. Nope, apparently there was nothing to suction out- how was it pneumonia then, I never even had a cough.  I was off oxygen after that and got to finally go home after 6 nights.  I kept getting asked if I was anxious to go home days earlier, and they were going to send me on Saturday until my oxygen saturation level dropped too low (yet again, even on oxygen it was low.  Walking with a respiratory therapist it would plummet when my pulse would sky rocket) I was in no hurry to get home- at least not when I was afraid to be unable to breathe.
  So, what was the cause of all this? I have no true answers.  Dr K thinks there was some drug toxicity in my lungs from chemo.  The pulmonary specialist called me this weekend to check in, he still didn't have answers but thought I could have aspirated or it was heart damage (but all my heart tests came back good?!!).  The lung biopsy he did showed nothing, hurray- meaning him scaring me saying it "could be the lymphoma" was totally false. The culture they did from squirting water in my lungs and suctioning it back out showed nothing.  I did my 10 days of antibiotics and have felt good since leaving the hospital. What now?  Dr K and I agreed that doing cycle 8 was not going to happen.  It could just cause more damage, and I have already done 3 cycles after having a clear PET scan.  I am good with that decision, yet it feels so anti-climatic to be done. My night sweats are caused by chemo induced menopause, could be temporary we will see I guess.  The thumb nail that has been ugly for months is now half falling off, pretty sweet.  I had nothing on my schedule from the cancer center after my scheduled 8th chemo that I wasn't there for so I had to call to make some sort of follow up appointment.   Dr K is pretty popular so I can't get in to see him till middle of July.  At that point we will talk about any further scans or tests I need to have done and schedule getting my port taken out.  If I have any problems between now and then, call.  So strange to just be done.  Now, try and get stronger every day but also know that my body has so much to recover from.  I am more tired some days than I would like, but I have to allow my body the time to heal.  It could take a year.  My head is starting to get a little fuzzy, but it will take ages for me to have a head covered in hair.