Some days are better than others

Today I am having a bad day. Maybe it’s because of the rain and grey sky, maybe not. I woke up feeling sad, with a knot in my throat, hating everything about my sick body. I hate the way I look, the fact that I always feel so tired and the constant discomfort caused by all kind of small annoying things like having very sensitive sore nails both in my hands and feet, having pain in both arms, either because of the phlebitis or the cording, having some digestive problems, being forgetful and confused at times, and having hot flashes and night sweats, a subject I have avoided writing about in here. For about two months now I have been having menopause symptoms, one of my most feared side effects of chemotherapy. My ovaries stopped working, maybe not permanently, that is what I am hoping for. I feel I am losing my femininity: lost a breast, lost all my hair, look tired and old, will most likely never become a mother and will never breast feed. I know some things are temporary like the hair loss and that the most important is to be alive and well. People can tell me this over and over again but I can’t get used to the idea that I am not the healthy person I thought I was before all this cancer thing happened. I want to live until I am 90 (or more!), healthy, happy and elegant. With all these worries I am going to get wrinkled, grey and turn into a grumpy old lady.

The problem with cancer is that there is no cure. Doctors remove the tumour and subject you to heavy treatments but there’s no guarantee they got rid of all cancer cells. I will have doctor’s appointments for the rest of my life. This week I asked my surgeon “Is my prognosis good?” to which he answered “yes, your prognosis is good but as you know no one has a crystal ball.” I guess I have to learn to live with it.

Now back to reality. I am going to the kitchen now, to make a chocolate cake for my sweet husband, it’s his birthday tomorrow. Nothing like baking while listening to music to cheer me up.

I had enough

Lately I’ve been feeling a bit like a human needle cushion. I never really had any problems with needles, I don’t get impressed, dizzy or feel much pain, but I got to a point now where I cannot stand them anymore. This year I’ve had more needles inserted in my body than in my whole life.

It all began with the blood tests, biopsies and MRI’s (yes, there’s a needle involved here too, an injection of a contrast agent into the bloodstream). Then there were the surgeries and anaesthesias, five this year alone. And let’s not forget the daily injections of fertility drugs, actually twice a day, I had to administer for two weeks. Chemo, of course, was the last drop, with countless blood tests, injections and intravenous treatments. During chemo my poor veins refused to cooperate any longer, my left arm felt like a junky’s arm, and I am so glad I have a port now, it makes things so much easier, faster and painless. In fact, the port looks a bit like an actual needle cushion and it can be used for drawing blood and administering drugs. Although it is very practical, it means some extra needle pricks as it requires some maintenance. It has to be flushed regularly to prevent clotting and occlusion.

Now on top of having blood drawn almost every week, I started having acupuncture to try to relieve some of the side effects of chemotherapy. Great, more needles! I don't know what crossed my mind, I should instead stay quietly at home healing and resting.

I don’t have a needle phobia yet but I don’t wish to see a needle, syringe, blood, infusion bag or catheter in the next couple of weeks (I would like to say months but I know it is unrealistic!).

Chemo day

Here I am, feeling miserable and sorry for myself. I hardly slept and feel very anxious.

The only thing I can think of is swear words and expressions, in Portuguese which is still my favourite language to swear. I am actually quite amazed at the length of the list of swear words I could put together, but to avoid having to affix a warning such as “Parental Advisory, Explicit Content” I will instead post this: @#*~~ÄßhNDML~Ú!$*@”.

One thing I have to mention is that I had a lovely day yesterday. It was so nice I even forgot about the fact that yesterday the nurse could not find a cooperative vein for the pre-chemo tests and only after four attempts and fiddling around with the needdle for a couple of minutes, which by the way didn't hurt but made me turn pale almost green, she decided to draw the blood sample from the portacath. Wise decision. My veins collapsed completely. As I was stressing a little bit too much these last few days, S. took the day off yesterday and we spent the day together doing only nice stuff: we had a delicious lunch, went to a nice exhibition, had a very tasty dinner and then went to a nice modern dance performance at Sadler's Wells with J., who had the great idea of inviting us to join her. Merci à tous les deux.

Ruining my good mood

I hate chemo! I’ve said this before and it stays true. I simply hate it and I have to admit that it crossed my mind to refuse any further treatments. But I won’t because I am too wise (and no one around me would allow me to that anyway). So, tomorrow I will go to another session very much against my will.

I’ve been feeling so good lately, it is a shame we have to ruin that. I even have small episodes of some kind of anxiety or panic attacks when I think of what is coming. Exaggerating? Me? Nãaaaa...

Plus, the phlebitis remains the same, painful, annoying and uncomfortable and, even worse, my eyebrows are fading away. I give it one, maybe two, more weeks of life, after that I will definitely look like an egg. I really really wish they didn’t fall out. Funny enough, completely unnecessary hair like the hair on my arms hasn’t fallen out yet and there’s no sign of weakness. How come?

Need to go now, I have to go to the clinic for the pre-chemo tests.

Phlebitis: the sequel

Today I had to go back to the clinic because my arm was getting worse. The phlebitis has spread into my hand and upper arm. It is painful, a bruise-like kind of pain that was worrying me and making me restless. My veins are hard and brownish-purple and I have a swelling on my wrist which hurts quite a lot.

I was seen by a doctor who confirmed my arm veins cannot be used for the treatment, it would only increase the irritation causing more pain and discomfort.

As I feared, I will have a port surgically implanted in my chest under the skin. Thursday early in the morning I will be once again under anaesthesia and will have it implanted. One more scar, one more annoyance. I will then have the chemo drugs administered through the port on the same day.

An implantable port is a plastic tube (a catheter) that is put in the chest into a large vein just above the heart and that connects to an opening (a port) which sits just under the skin. The port will be left in place until the end of the chemotherapy treatments and a small discrete bump will be visible underneath the skin.

I am not very happy about this, but not too worried either. It’s just a hiccup along the way.

Chemical phlebitis

It is one more of those things that can happen with chemotherapy. I got phlebitis from the chemo drugs.

My wrist and arm veins got an irritation caused by the Epirubicin, one of the chemo drugs. The phlebitis is causing an annoying pain and my arm veins look brownish-red and swollen, so much that I am going to the clinic to have it checked.