The Chemo Diaries. Punch #2

Wednesday, June 5th:
So very very tired today. I made it to physical therapy this morning. And I went one stop further on the subway to pick out a paint color for the house. But that's all I have in me. So good thing for all of us I wrote this last night (and my friend Rachel helped out):

Tuesday, June 4th: I got into the big blue chair for Chemo Round 2 a few minutes late and then I had to stay a few minutes longer to talk to Dr. Ruth about my Oncotype scores, so it was a very long day.  I was able to get dinner in the oven before I pooped out on the couch and closed my eyes and slept until I needed to smoke.

Oncotype: This is a genomic test that scores your cancer lumps on a scale of 1 to 100.  Low scores tell you that the risk of recurrence is very low.  My lumps scored 3 and 5.  Very low and very good news.  Dr. Ruth wants to reevaluate the 10 rounds of Taxol that I am scheduled to get after these four sessions of drugs that I'm undergoing now.  She wants to go back and read some studies that were done of patients who received Taxol after chemo to determine if the treatment had any effect for my age and category.  She will also look at extending my hormone treatment after radiation which would keep my estrogen levels low for, possibly, longer that the original five years we talked about.  She thinks that may be that the most effective way to prevent the cancer from coming back, given that is is highly estrogen positive.

My friend Rachel accompanied me to chemo.  Bless her big bad heart, she did not frighten at the site of me all hooked up to drip bags, one after the other, my eyes drooping as we chatted into the second hour.  She peeled my hard boiled eggs and threw away my trash and fetched me purple chocolates.  She showed me pictures of animals and introduced me to Crabby Cat. We needed some bonding time before she moves to LA with her seriously sweet husband, Jay. A chemo clinic provides the perfect place, don't you agree?

Rachel describes it this way:

I'm not sure if it was weird of me to be happy to go with my friend to her chemo appointment but I was.  I was happy to hold her hand, distract her while the needles came, maybe get a giggle here and there.  But I was really happy to have her all to myself for a few hours.  Because that is how long chemo is.  Did you know that?  It's hours.  Hours of Lauren sitting in a chair looking at me looking at her.   And then the half hour waiting to be seen.  WOO-HOO!  Lots and lots of alone time with Lauren.  Do I want my friend to be going through this?  Of course not.  But am I happy that I am spending time with her?  Positively thrilled.  Because friends don't have access like family does.  Her family has swooped in like the support system they are and she hasn't slacked at all in Mommy duties.  She's also knocking out cancer, so her free time is a little few and far between.  For a friend waiting and wanting to just be with her, we have to be patient. 

When Lauren told me that she could bring someone to chemo with her, I told her that I have to go with her and I have to go with her soon and it has to be me and she has no choice in the matter.  She doesn't like me more than any of you or love me more than any of you but I am moving to the left coast soon.  Her having me go with her had a lot to do with time being of the essence!  Fortunately, she obliged.

You'd think seeing your friend hooked up to tubes, chewing ice so the chemicals don't cause sores from the inside out and walking to the bathroom with an IV machine, would sadden you in some way.  Maybe it should have.  But it didn't.  Lauren had her purdy scarf around her newly shaven head, lovely dangling earrings that hit her shoulders, her eyes done just so.  Same ol' Lauren.  A slight wince only came when the horse syringe came out.  I call it a horse syringe because it's massively massive.  I don't care what anyone says.  That syringe is used for horses!  I thought they were kidding.  Like it was a prop being used for a gag.  But no.  That's one of the treatments.  And that was the only wince she gave.  The rest of the time you would have thought we were at a cozy coffee shop.  Just two good friends chatting and laughing.  And eating hard boiled eggs.  Nature's superfood, you know.

Towards the end of the appointment, Lauren talked about her fear that she was doing the wrong thing.  Maybe she should have waited to be so aggressive with treatment, maybe she should have gone a different way.  She told me about her good ol' nickname as a little girl - "Delicate Flower".  Her parents teased her with this because every bruise she would feel, every hard landing would end with a sprain or a cut, any little change in her body she would totally be aware of.  So, how was she going to handle this?  I thought about all the shows of Fishbowl that she would take charge of, of how she ordered me to get a Neti pot and then repeated several times how it works because I just didn't get it.  I thought about all of the problems I went to her with that she was able to separate the forest from the trees for me.  I thought about how, as hokey as this sounds, I always feel safe when I am around her.  Delicate Flower?  Um, no.  Pretty far from it.  Her figure is slight, sure, but doesn't fortitude count for something?  It must.  It has to.  It's so much of what she is.  Anyhoo, maybe my opinion doesn't matter all that much but I told her I thought she was doing the right thing.  So there.

When the appointment was over, we got up, we hugged and I don't why this happened, but I almost started crying.  I don't remember what she said or what I said but I almost started crying.  Your heart ever swell with love for someone and in a moment you realize how much they really mean to you?  Kind of like what happens in movies but it's in real life?  I think that was what happened.  I don't want her to go through this.  I don't want her to worry about this.  I love Lauren B'Doren.  And I suppose it got me choked up a bit.  I thought I was going to cry but I didn't.  I'm glad I didn't.  It wasn't the way I wanted to end our good time at the faux coffee shop.....with the horse syringe.

Lauren has/had cancer.  Tears will always be right there for all of us.  But they don't always have to rear their droplets.  Hugs, laughs, poking fun, pulling chains, busting chops - there is a want and a need for these things.  And I would even say, a bigger want than anything else.  I could've cried but didn't.  We had too good of a time.  It was a happy time.  Plus, I mean, so I cry and then what?  She starts calling me her "Delicate Flower"? 

I once knew a girl named Lauren,

She thought her cancer might go tourin',

So she got a big shot,

A delicate flower she's not,

Her chemo appointments are far from borin'."

Thanks again, Rachel!  Anytime you want to switch places with me, I am ready, girlfriend!!

A crazy thing happened at the end of last week.  My body did not register exhaustion.  Or sleepiness.  Or anything resembling tiredness.  I don't have any scientific evidence for this, but I think something was tampering with my sleepy gland and blocking its ability to communicate with me.  And it was strange.  So it was the very first question I had for Nurse Beth this week: "Have any of your patients ever developed super human strength towards the end of their second week of chemo and failed to get tired?"  As you can imagine, Beth's response was a mix of professionalism and laughter.  "No.  But this is how you are experiencing chemo."

"It could also be an indication." I continued, "that I am about to get my period.  On most cycles, about three or four days before I get my period, I experience a serious crack-cocaine-like burst of energy and I can't sleep.  It doesn't usually last for five days, though.  So what do you think is going on?"

Beth's answer was smart, as always. First, after saying she doesn't actually know the answer, she told me that 21st century women often tend to push through and don't allow themselves to rest.  (You're kidding!!)  For example, forty years ago, she said, when she was growing up, there was no Advil.  (I cannot even imagine such a world).  So what did women do when they got their period?  They stayed home from school and work and laid down with a heating pad on their uterus. And they rested.  They did not take two Advil (three) and head to work, as we all do today.  Our generation will push through, and of course, it is not just women, is it? I know plenty of men who do the same.

During my first year in New York, when I was temping at an investment bank, one of the young analysts ignored signs that he was getting sick.  For a few days, he kept coming into the office, clearly sick and clearly green.  When he finally passed out, he was rushed to the hospital and then a couple of days later he died.  Beth also told me about a patient of hers who went to work all through her chemo treatment.  Every day.  Pushed through.  And at the end of her treatment, she took a leave of absence.  It had all been too much.  

She told me these stories to remind me to sleep, to take care of myself at all costs right now, and forever.  Even if I wasn't tired, I had to get in bed.  I had to rest.  I should not try to push through, as tempting as it may seem.  I promised her I would.  Even if I wasn't tired.

Oh, I almost forgot.  She reminded me to smoke some weed.

So it may not seem so bat shit crazy when I tell you that last night, when I finally got in bed after a very long day of chemo, I was sooooo soooo soooooo happy to be experiencing exhaustion.  I think I may have fist pumped the air once or twice before crashing.  I was so excited to be tired.  I was so excited to be sleeping.  And I can not believe I am writing that sentence.  I will eat these words, I am sure.