Melt-downs are okay, and even a normal reaction to something this traumatizing. You are normally a cheerful optimistic person, and just having a good cry when you need it is much different that going into a complete depression. I remember that I was terrified that I would not live through my first heart procedure, but I knew that if I didn’t have it, I for sure would not live much longer. Being brave is not the absence of fear, it is doing what you have to do, in spite of the fear. Love and Hugs and hope the day goes well for you !
Thanks, Yvonne. I hate that a stupid disease can turn my entire life upside down in a single moment and some days it's just hard to accept. I got my chemo port installed today, just under my left collarbone and extending into my jugular vein. I have bandages on the port site and on my neck where he went into the vein. It was a VERY long day with a lot of waiting. I wasn't having any pain earlier but now that some of the numbing medication is wearing off I've got some pain and a headache. I'm trying to decide where I'll sleep tonight to keep from disturbing the port; probably in a recliner.
I guess this will be my "Diary of Cancer" thread. I can't believe I have to get up at 5:30 in the morning now to fight traffic going into Houston. The chemo port is really sore today, though I slept well. I used pillows jammed along each side to keep from turning over. On my way to meet with Medical Oncologist this morning. I'm expecting final lab results to be revealed and my chemo schedule... eeeek. I have already inquired about whether my age will be a factor in treatment ("she's old; let her die anyway") and was advised that since I am relatively healthy and have no "co-morbidities" that my treatment will be the same as any younger patient. OK then.
Honey, I'm home! Meeting with MO (medical oncologist) went well; he is very personable, agrees that I will have input on my treatment, and is a 2-time cancer survivor himself. I hate that he has had cancer, but I love that he can appreciate my pounding heart and quivering lips over hearing words I dread. One more screening exam on Thursday, then unless something unforeseen occurs I'll begin chemo next Tuesday. He told me that about 30% of patients have no significant side effects other than hair loss, so I hope I'm in that lucky group.
I am so glad you have a human to escort you through this rather than a sterile clinician. It makes so much difference.
Beth Gallagher. Once in a while I cruise through the titles of new posts. I saw yours, obviously, since I'm here and had to login to wish you well. I had cancer twice, I won't bother to go into it and I only mentioned it to let you know I understand what you're going through to some extent as everyone's cancer story is their own. I really, truly like you, BG. I enjoy our squabbles, they're fun and so are you. Of the many people I've "met" this way, you are someone I think would be great to spend some time with to laugh and yell at each other.You're in my thoughts now, darn it, I'm stuck with you. You're a gutsy woman. You've got a partner; you've got a good, loving family. You've got medical insurance & a roof over your head. You'll do as well or better as anyone could do. You're using Houston, a great hospital city with world renown significance. A very big deal. (Yvonne, I found your experiences very interesting and I learned much from reading them. Thanks (as usual). ) Okay BG, "put 'em up."
Lulu, I was really hoping you'd show up. And may I say, the feelings are mutual. As far as a "gutsy woman," I've been a blubbering mess for the past few weeks so you should show up more often to slap me around. I hope your own health issues are in your rear-view. Thanks, bud. We should have that cup of tea someday.
So third day out from port surgery and it's not nearly as sore. The big bandage is off but the "steri-strips" are still holding the wound closed; they stay on until they fall off. I had a consultation with a gynecologist today and an extremely painful and unpleasant biopsy. I must say, being a cancer patient really makes a person feel fragile and "unwell." I do not recommend it. So I have 4 days off and then my first chemotherapy on Tuesday. To say that I dread it is an extreme understatement. I am on an emotional roller coaster; today I questioned whether all this is worth the possibility of adding a few years to my life. Never take good health for granted; it can be snatched away in a heartbeat.
Well, in my Grim Reaper's Angel voice, "Is it?" I'm not letting you get away with saying that that easy, Lady.
Oh (((Beth))) Is it worth it? If you had small cell lung cancer, I'd say no. But you don't. Don't give up yet. You didn't even start. I wasn't supposed to make it. Obviously I did. I also had the worst attitude in the world. Other patients criticized me and one woman, upon discharge, met me outside. I was with some family, smoking a cigarette. I put my pants on to go out. Anyway, she said she couldn't understand why my family was with me as I treated everyone terribly, including them. I was such a bad patient I destroyed the 'have a good attitude' notion. If my living depended on my attitude I wouldn't be here now with the same rotten attitude I had back then. I wasn't brave or gracious, in fact, what's that? I realized I didn't die because God thought I haven't suffered enough. Hah, LOL, that's a joke. I'm checking in on you and will be sending out good thoughts especially on Tuesday.
I'm so glad you didn't die, Lulu. I know you (and a few others here) understand the emotional roller coaster I'm on. On top of that, I'm beginning to feel physically ill which is a new thing for me. I can only imagine (and I do), how sick I'm going to be when the chemo starts and I get the "cancer patient" look along with all the other dreadful side-effects. I've read a cancer diagnosis puts a person into the "seven stages of grief" and that seems to be true. It's hard to remain positive when that's not my natural demeanor.