Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Guess what I did?

I ditched on chemo.  Well, not totally.  Let me go back to the beginning.

So I went to the chemo center today.  I had an appt to see my doc, and then was supposed to do Big Chemo.  After waiting and waiting, I got called back to do vitals and the blood draw.  And by waiting, I mean 45 minutes of waiting.  Then I waited some more in an exam room.

A doctor I didn't know came in after the nurse (no I did NOT fall since I've been here).  She explained that she was training and wanted to talk to me about my cancer, if that was all right with me.  Yeah, sure.  I told her the story of my diagnosis, blah blah blah.  She asked about my diet and exercise (both really impressed her, by the way).  I mentioned that my kids really keep me going. 

Then she committed Ultimate Sin #1:  she asked about my kids.

I started crying.  The more I learn and understand about this whole cancer business, the more I worry about not being here for them at some point.  How shitty is that to think about?  It sucks.  The doctor asked if I had family support and I said, "Of course I do."  Then she asked, "Then why are you crying?"


I didn't say that.  Instead I said, "Well, cancer in your lungs is pretty serious."

Then she suggested that I talk to someone.  I think she meant a professional.  This has been recommended to me before, and I don't know.  I feel like I'm doing okay, and isn't it okay for me to cry a little when someone asks me about the kids (especially someone who doesn't know me??).  I'd be worried about myself if I didn't show any emotion.  But I do want to lower my prozac dose, so maybe I should add in some chatty chat therapy.  I just don't know if I want someone who isn't in my situation telling me how I should or shouldn't deal with it all.

I guess I could vow to be more honest in this blog.

Yeah, that's right.  I don't tell you all everything.  Are you surprised?  Most of the time I don't want to think about all this, and I don't want anyone else to stress about it either.  I mean, I'm pretty open here. 

Anyway, my doc came in at that point and looked instantly worried.  I told him that the other doctor asked about my kids, and he nodded knowingly.  He gets it, I think.  Then I demanded my CBC results and guess what?  My white count is better!  Neutraphils are better.  The shot appears to have worked.  I was sooooooo relieved.

Then we talked about chemo.  Since my parents are going to be here this weekend, I decided a couple of weeks ago that I didn't want to be sick all weekend.  I know I need the chemo, but dammit, I haven't seen my parents in a long time (skype not included).  I suggested that I would do just Erbitux, but not full chemo.  The doc agreed right away.

Now I don't know how much following a particular schedule matters with the kind of chemo I'm getting.  Does pushing it off a week here and a week there matter much if we eventually do it all?  I was so glad the doc agreed to push Big Chemo off that I forgot to ask.  I'll try to remember next time.  I also wanted to ask about my next CT scan

Little Chemo was uneventful.  The chemo lounge was cram packed, and the nurse was in a hurry to get me out of there.  I don't blame her.  The nurses were all running around like crazy.  I slept for a good chunk of the time, thank you, Benedryl.

I don't want anyone to think that they can't ask me how I am, or ask how the kids are.  It's not that.  Honest.  Those of you who have been with me for awhile, you know me.  You know our family.  Chances are, I consider YOU family.  I don't mind answering questions about anything.  For real.  It's hard for me to talk about my worries about Eric and the kids, but I maybe should.  I love them so much.  I'm going to do my best to kick ass at this cancer stuff.  I feel like I owe it to them.  I must do it.

So that is that.  Next week, back on the Big Chemo wagon. 


  1. I'm glad your doctor is pretty understanding.

    And yeah, some things you'll cry about. It doesn't mean you need help.

    But, if you do need someone to talk to, that's okay too.

  2. I cry when asked about future, kids, most anything could trigger it! I have opted to see a counselor just a couple of months ago but it was not to have them tell me how to be or how to get "better", it was for me to just talk and say things outloud, things I haven't said in my blog, things I haven't said even to my best friend, and just to even repeat those things that I have said on my blog or to my best friend. I NEED to talk and get it out, for me it is worse to leave it inside of me and feels like I am sort of denying things. So I was upfront with the counselor about what kind of sessions I wanted and that I didn't want meds. I too didn't like someone who hadn't had this telling me how to be or get through it. Mostly, it wasn't enough for me to just write about it and I don't want to dump on my best friend so much, she has enough to deal with and even as is I feel like I talk too much about it with her and all these feelings that cancer has given me. It is definetly hard to be totally open on our blogs because friends and family read but for me it has been HUGE helpful to read truth and openness and not feel alone and not feel so weird with all these stupid cancer feelings. Hey, I just think I wrote a blog post on your blog may have to put my comment on my blog!
    I read everything you post and it has been so helpful to me and I think of you daily and sending nothing but goodness to you and your family.

  3. The ultimate elephant in the room we will all one day have to confront.

  4. Way back when when I was fresh out of surgery for my first colon cancer a young seminarian from our church dropped in to visit me in the hospital. I'd never met her before. In her low serious concerned seminarian voice she asked me how I was feeling about having cancer when our daughter was 2. She might as well have said, "So, you're going to die and leave your baby --how does this make you feel?" I cried, which I definitely was not ready to do, what with a fresh incision in my abdomen (no laughing, no crying, no sneezing or coughing, please). And I sent her away. Some people have no sense of appropriate behavior in the face of someone bearing up as best they can. My daughter, by the way, is now 25. Hugs to you, Sheri! Cry when you feel like it, tell us whatever you want to. You are wonderful.