Lessons From A Radiation Table

Last week I finished my 34th and final day of radiation. 

 I would have to say that this by far has the been the easiest part of my treatment.  

There are no needles, scalpels, or drugs involved.

You show up, wait till they call your name, 

go to the dressing room where you remove your top, put on a hospital gown,

 go to the sub waiting room and again wait for them to call your name,

follow the tech into the radiation room, 

lay on the table,

continue laying there while they adjust the bed and machines,

continue laying there while they exit the room and zap you,

continue to lay there while they come in and out, readjust things, and repeat the procedure twice more.

Then you are done.  It only takes 5 or ten minutes tops. 

On the last day I got a certificate.

 It states that I have been an "outstanding patient."

I amuse myself by wondering what you would have to do to not be outstanding. 

I mean... it doesn't take much effort to lie still, especially when you are fatigued from treatment!

 I must admit though that nine times out of ten, as soon as they would be all done adjusting and calibrating, or whatever they were doing,

 the minute they told me not to move.. I would get an itch. 

 My nose, my elbow, by knee, something somewhere would start itching like crazy.  

So I would hold my breath and tough it out until I could move again.  

Maybe other people aren't quite that outstanding.

Anyway, I am done!!  My skin is burnt and I am beyond tired, but done!!

I had a little epiphany during treatment.

Everyday I would lay on that table and look up at the ceiling.

There is a giant round light on the ceiling made to look like a window.  

It has a picture of blue sky with white fluffy clouds.

Around the edges are branches with either pink or yellow flowers on them depending on which side of the circle you are looking at.

First let me say that the the whole thing cracks me up, because

a. We are on the bottom floor of a two story building, and

b. the trees would have to be growing out of roof or else be freakishly tall to hang over a window in the middle of the ceiling.

But I digress...

I lay there every day and looked at this fake window.  

The first day I notice a black spot that looks like a bird way up in the sky.

The second day I decide that it is a bee buzzing near the flowers.

By the third day, I realize that it is not part of the fake window scene at all, 

but it is actually a smudge of dirt.

The ceilings are quite tall and I spend time wondering how a smudge could have gotten all the way up there.

Maybe it happened while some big piece of equipment was being moved.

  Or maybe a janitor was throwing a mop in the air and the handle hit the picture. 

 Whatever had happened, there it was, a small black smudge in the middle of the clear blue sky.

Everyday I would lay down and stare up at that picture. 

 I am sure some well meaning person put it there thinking it would help the patient relax 

and think happy thoughts,

 but all I could do was look at that smudge. 

 Why didn't someone clean it off?  Did they know it was there? Why is it STILL there?

Soon it was the only part of the picture I could see.

On my last day the first thing I thought was,"Thank goodness I won't ever have to look at that smudge again!"

And then it made me think of how that smudge had become my cancer.

How dare it mess up my beautiful blue sky?!

How did it get there?

Would it ever go away?

It has ruined everything.

But then I realized how tiny that smudge was compared to the rest of the scene.

When you looked at the whole big picture, it was barely noticeable.

I realized that I cannot let a small black smudge ruin everything for me.

So, I won't.

Here's to looking ahead, looking for blue skies, seeing the whole picture and loving it.

It Was Quite A Night

Back on May 9th, I had my 6th and final round of chemo. 

 I had a rough time recovering from that little nugget of fun.
Even after three weeks of recovery,

  my feet and and ankles were swollen,
I was so fatigued that walking from my bedroom to the kitchen left me out of breath,
 and my joints and muscles were so stiff and sore that I moved like a little old lady.

I was scheduled for my bilateral mastectomy on a Monday morning just over three weeks after my last chemo round. 

 On the Friday night before, Blair whisked me away for an overnighter  at the lake. 

 I was discouraged and so very tired of feeling bad,
 and knew I was about to feel a whole lot worse in a few days. 

It was nice to get away and relax.

On Saturday evening, we returned home. 
 I remember thinking that the neighbors must be having a big party because I saw a lot of cars parked near our house. 
 As we got closer, I realized there were pink balloons on our mailbox and those cars were actually parked in our yard!

My sweet family, headed up by BethAnn, had secretly been working hard on a "chemo graduation" party.
  I can not expresss my emotions as I pulled up and saw so many of my friends and family who had been by my side through the long chemo road. 

So rather than trying to describe the event, I will let the pictures, 
taken by my sweet sister in law Myrna,
 do the talking...

These are just a few of the pictures of that special night. 

 There were banners and pictures inside the house as well. 

 I eventually took down everything except one pink banner that still hangs in my kitchen window.

It says "Vicky is Tougher Than Cancer."

I think I am leaving that one for a good long while, because with such an amazing support group,

I just might be tougher than this cancer after all.

Insomnia

One of the many parting gifts that chemo left me with is the inability to sleep.

  I have developed some pretty wicked RLS (restless leg syndrome) due to the anemia that came from chemo, and I simply cannot lie still in bed no matter how hard I try. 

 So at night I can be found prowling the house, trying to tire out my legs so I can sleep.

Right now it is 12:40 am and I am again on my nightly prowl and thinking about tomorrow.

Tomorrow marks the beginning of my seven weeks of radiation.

I will go everyday Monday through Friday and then get Saturday and Sunday to recover before hitting it again.

Yay.

I am trying to have a positive attitude about this. Really. I am.

I know it puts me one step closer to being done with treatment, and I am grateful this technology exists,

blah, blah, blah.

 But once again there are real side effects--some for now and some that may appear later down the road.

Add to that the cording that I have developed in my right arm, and I am just having so much fun.

Plus I get to wear a lovely compression sleeve for about three hours everyday during the process.

Yay.

No one told me that this stage of treatment should be called the stage of never-being-at-home-because-you-are-always-at-a-doctor's-office.

Last week I had 4 appts and this week I have 5.

I see my oncologist, my surgeon, and my radiologist on a regular basis. (I never thought I would use the word "MY" in front of any of those doctors in this lifetime!) Also every three weeks  I  get herceptin, and I have physical therapy for the cording twice a week.  Add to that  occasional other tests like an echo cardiogram to make sure my heart is still beating, and you get a pretty full schedule.

Evidently the main side affect of radiation is fatigue.  Goody.  Guess what happens when fatigue and insomnia and endless appointments collide?

I don't know but I'll keep you posted.

I know that I am whiny tonight, mostly because i would rather be sleeping,

but in all actuality, life is pretty good.

My energy is up and I have started to cook for my family again

 which makes me very happy.

We have squeezed a few short trips in to the lake and this weekend we are sneaking off to Atlanta to catch a Braves game.

Tonight in our family prayer, Lydia prayed that I would not be discouraged about the way I look.

Haha.

I told her not to worry, that all things considered, I thought I was looking pretty good!

And all complaints aside, 

I know that I have been greatly blessed throughout this whole process.

I continually experience tender mercies from a loving Heavenly Father

 and am still being showered with love and support from all sides.

I'm Still Here

So here's a little funny for you.... I got this letter in the mail today from The Women's Imaging Center:

Dear Ms. Burton,

We hope this letter finds you well. It's that time again--time to schedule your annual mammogram.

The letter then goes on to tell me important facts about breast cancer and early detection. I am then urged to not skip a year and to schedule my mammogram today!

Really? Really? Do these places not  update their records? These are the same people that did my last mammogram, diagnosed my cancer, and suggested I have a mastectomy! It was a day I will never forget and you would think that someone could make a small note of that fact!

Sheesh!

Anyway, it has been a long time since I have updated my blog. I think it is because when I think of writing about my final round of chemo and then my surgery, I have a small PTSD attack, and have to back away.

Hopefully I will feel like writing about these things at some point because I know that there are parts I definitely want to remember--like my surprise chemo graduation party, and my pathology results that show I achieved PathCR. For those that are not oncologists-- this evidently stands for Pathological Clinical Remission and is a very, very good thing! Basically it means that no live cancer cells were found in my breast tissue or lymph nodes after surgery. There was only scar tissue where the cancer had been.

Take that, breast cancer!!

Also, although we are in the miserable rainy season of summer, I feel like is is spring because things are sprouting up all over. That's right folks, I will not be part of that small percentage who's hair never grows back after chemo, ( a secret fear of mine) because I have beautiful dark fuzz all over my head!

Chemo Eve

The day before chemo, affectionately known as Chemo Eve, is usually a day that I dread. 

 I finally get feeling good, and yet I know what I am about to be in for all over again.

But there is no dread today. 

 There is actually some excitement. Why, you ask? 

 Because tomorrow is chemo #6 which is my LAST CHEMO!!!!!

I am so excited to get this part of my treatment over and done with.  I am ready to start feeling normal again and to get rid of the small pharmacy that lives on my dresser.

I went from a girl that rarely needed medicine, to one who has six prescription bottles and about the same number of over-the-counter meds.

Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for all those bottles because each one holds relief for a side-effect of chemo.  I could not have made it through these past months without them.  But I will gratefully trade them all in for some that will help with the next phase of treatment.

So after five rounds of chemo, many people are curious about what it has been like.

It has not been like what you may see in the movies--cancer patient lying on the bathroom floor too weak to move to from all the throwing-up. 

I am fortunate to have only thrown up once during this whole ordeal.  Although I do have under-lying nausea, I have three different nausea meds that hold it at bay and make it more of an annoyance than a real problem.

The real side effects are ones you don't hear of much.  Each one by themselves aren't that big of a deal, but all together, they become draining.

The biggest one is fatigue. 

 It seems to be a cumulative side effect which means it gets worse with each round.  It is the kind of fatigue that no amount of sleep can cure.  It is the kind that makes your legs and arms feel weighted down.  It is difficult to lift anything heavy, and a walk to the mailbox leaves my heart pounding and me panting for breath.

Then there are a myriad of little ones: 

constant dripping nose--a combo of one of my meds plus the absence of nose hair

a thick and fuzzy- feeling tongue

changes in the way food tastes

a heightened sense of smell that makes everything overpowering

sores in my nose

 stomach distress in one form or the other

insomnia

restless legs

hot flashes

dry skin and eyes

forgetfulness
headache
achy bones and joints

When I was a child, my dad affectionately called me a hypochondriac, because I evidently complained over every ache and pain. 

I hated being called that, and have tried to change that about myself.

But, hey I have cancer, and I feel like I am owed a little complaining.

I feel sure my dad would be okay with it :)

However, I know people who have had a much worse time with chemo than I have.  

I am grateful that my side-effects have not been completely debilitating, and I truly believe that that is in part due to the many, many prayers offered on my behalf.  

In the beginning of this crazy ride, I felt like life was suspended until I got through treatment, and I spent a lot of my days worrying and in fear.

Somewhere along the line, I realized that no one knows what the future holds and that I needed to enjoy each day I was blessed with, no matter how I felt physically.

So in the midst of misery, I have had a lot of moments of laughter and silliness,

hugs and kisses, and tender moments with family and friends.
  I have loved having my family pile in bed with me and watch ridiculous TV shows.
  I have  been able to just sit quietly outside and taken in the beauty of spring, the warm sun, the laughter of my children and grandchildren. I have enjoyed being able to go to some my girls' ball games and watching my grandson run around and call me "Mimi."
I love that most nights I am still able to tuck my children into bed and have prayers with them.

And I am still completely blown away by all the messages, meals, cards, books, quilts, flowers, and other sweet gifts and rememberances too numerous and diverse to name.

There is no way to thank everyone, but I am forever grateful for the outpouring of love.

I still have surgery and then radiation looming in the near future, and while I am not looking forward to them, I am looking forward to continuing to enjoy the little things that make life sweet in the process.

I will leave you with a few pictures of one of those sweet moments. 

 This past Friday, I got to go with Lydia's class to SeaWorld.

  She and I had a beautiful day of what we liked to call "slow fun."

I am sure at times she wished she was running with her friends from one roller-coaster to the next, but she valiantly stuck by my side as we ambled along, stopping to sit and enjoy all the amazing shows, enjoy some good food, and talk about everything under the sun--except cancer. 

 It was a magical day that I will always treasure.

Cutest 5th grader around!

This is how I feel about finishing chemo!

Such a happy day!

Chemo Shopping

Contrary to what the title may lead you to believe, this is not another post about stocking up at the store for my next round of chemo.

 Rather, it is about what happens if you attempt to shop shortly after having chemo.

It all happened one night not too long ago. 

The girls were in bed, Blair was at a meeting, and I was in bed in a chemo-induced fog. 

I felt just good enough to know I was bored, but not good enough to get up and do anything about it. So I did what any self-respecting woman would do-- I turned to some Internet shopping.

I have the Zullily app on my iPad, and I started browsing the newest deals. 

 I had no intention of really buying anything, but my two youngest girls have been asking for maxi- dresses, and I saw some that were only $7.00.

I remember thinking to myself that at that price I should just snatch them up

 and hope the girls liked them. But I was getting sleepy so I decided to wait til the next day.

Or so I thought.....

Imagine my surprise the next day when I received an e-mail from Zulilly thanking me for my order!

What order?  Did I get those two dresses?

Actually no, I ordered five different dresses plus two swimsuits!!

What??

The girls were excited to get the packages in the mail and the dresses all fit, 

but we had to do a little wheeling and dealing since there were not an even number of dresses. 

 The swimsuits did not fit because interestingly enough I ordered the wrong sizes!!

 One too big and one too small! And no returns...

Lesson learned. 

 I need be put on ipad lock down immediately following round 5!

Round Four and Easter

I am not going to lie, round 4 of chemo was rough.

I went into it with a little bit of cough and cold so that made the whole thing a little harder.

My chemo is always on a Thursday, and usually Friday I feel a little gross but think to myself,

 Hey this isn't too bad.  I can do this. 

 Then by Saturday afternoon, I am in bed sobbing that I had forgotten how bad it really gets

 and that there is no way I can do this.

Sunday through Wednesday are usually a blur as I spend most of it in bed 

drugged with lots of medication to combat the chemo side effects.

  By Thursday, I start to emerge, and although there is a lot of fatigue, 

I realize that yes, I will live.

Round 4 fell the Thursday before Easter.

I love Easter. 

I love Easter baskets and Easter dresses and egg hunts.
For me Easter is synonymous with Spring and new beginnings.
 Most of all I love Easter Sunday when I can go to church and really ponder on the meaning of Easter;
when I can reverently celebrate the Resurrection of my Savior and what this means to me personally.

To not be able to go to church on Easter was devastating for me.
Cancer has taken a lot from me, how dare it take this too.

That morning, while my family was all together in church,
I lay in bed feeling sorry for myself and very, very alone.
I turned on Pandora radio to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir channel.
The song that was on was "How Great Thou Art."
This was one of my dad's favorite hymns.

As the beautiful hymn soothed my soul, I felt an overwhelming feeling of peace and comfort.
I have always believed that the Lord often sends us help through people here on earth and from those who have gone on before us.
That Easter morning I know that my dad was there with me,
which makes my testimony of the resurrection all the sweeter.

What started out as the worst Easter ever became one of the most meaningful.

My beautiful girls in their Easter dresses