There was a movie starring Tom Hanks several years ago called Joe vs. the Volcano. At the beginning of the movie, Joe drags himself to work every day taking a log walk through a cold, muddy lot under grey skies into a dingy, grey office with very little light. When Joe finds out he has a terminal disease, he decides to quit his job and live it up but has to jump into a volcano as repayment for all the fun he's had at the end of his life. Don't worry, the ending is good but I won't spoil it in case you want to check it out. The ending song, Marooned Without You by Georges Delerue is really cool and still a favorite of mine: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lwfdJwv3k_A.
In many ways, the past 15 months have been like the beginning of Joe vs. the Volcano for me. When I was told I had breast cancer I couldn't fathom what life held for me. I took things one step at a time, first a surgery, then a 2nd followed by the discovery of the aggressive nature of the beast, installation of a hideous port-o-cath and the requirement to have 12 weekly chemo infusions, followed by 8 weeks of daily radiation, followed by about 6 more months of Herceptin, a drug that targets the over expression of the cell protein that made my cancer grow so quickly.
As I'd try to comprehend where the journey would lead, I always held out hope that things wouldn't be so bad. I was disappointed and even lied to along the way. At first I was told I'd only need surgery and radiation. My oncologist told me my hair would only get thin - but I lost it. I was told by my surgeon I would be back to normal within a few days but a large softball sized seroma under my arm caused me months of discomfort and the muscle weakness where several lymph nodes were removed continues. I was told to stay active, which I think I did pretty well at, but told if I did, the side effects of chemo wouldn't be so bad. To say I was as sick as a damned dog the whole time is putting it mildly. I was told that radiation wouldn't be bothersome, which it wasn't until the last couple of weeks when my whole left side was oozing, blistered, itchy and flaming to the point I just wanted to cut off my skin. I was told Herceptin had no side effects but a headache yet I have never struggled so much to get through daily life and cope with muscle & joint pain as I have these past 6 months.
As an athlete I tried to find contact with others who were going through or had gone through similar treatments as me. I never was successful at making the contact I wanted, even through Livestrong.com. I was looking for a coach, someone to help me through what to expect, how to cope. Yet, I did bump into an angel named Julie Dickson from Washington who competes in dog agility at my favorite venue in Lolo, MT. Julie just finished her Herceptin when I met her but "only" had to complete surgery and radiation, no chemo. However, Julie opted for a total mastectomy and was bravely competing just a couple of weeks after her implants, wow! Coincidently, Julie has a Sheltie too and a danged fast one at that. Though we don't know each other well, we have stayed in contact about each other's journey. I don't think I'd ever learned how to support another person well until I met Julie and was the benefit of her example. She never utters a discouraging word and always remembers when I'm having an important event. She may not be the athletic coach I hoped for but she truly has helped boost my spirits and hopefulness whenever I've needed it.
The point of that last bit is that I thought it would be a noble thing to try and compete through all of this. I had hopes at one point of getting Win, my heart dog qualified for AKC agility nationals. We came SSSSOOOO close. We needed 400 speed points and 6 double Q's. Despite missing about 1/3 of the year, we ended up with almost 600 speed points but just 5 double Q's. We would have had it if I hadn't been in treatment. There were at least half a dozen times where my fatigued body just couldn't make it to the right spot and I'd have one tiny error that would keep me from getting the points. Then, with two weekends left at indoor venues where I normally excel, my leg and foot went numb and my hip had crushing, debilitating pain that made it almost impossible to move. I can't even begin to explain how hard I tried to run my dog through that thinking of all the sports heroes who have won events despite severe pain - surviving on grit, mental toughness and good training. I tried everything; chiropractic adjustments, visualization, physical therapy, every sports cream known, compression shorts, yoga, acupressure, vitamin B6. I re-read all my mental management books, CDs and every blog I could think of. Nothing worked, not even a tiny bit. Those last two weekends we came close, but were unable to get that last double Q I needed. No injury was ever found in x-rays. I think it was the stinkin' Herceptin.
While Win, Lilli, King & I had fun at those competitions (King as my body guard for a few trips, not as a competitor), it was a crazy idea to get my hopes up that I could actually accomplish qualifying for a national event. This is what I needed a coach to help me with. I needed to know I should go about having fun, living a little but taking whatever came and whatever my body would allow. At the last trial I cried and cried when Win & I didn't make it. I didn't need that. Not at all. I sulked for days and actually contacted the chairperson of the event to see if there could possibly be any exception given to a person who had cancer during the qualifying period. She was sweet but said nope, not possible, sorry. It was a waste to go through such an upset when what I really needed was positive energy to make it the rest of the way through treatments. Between that huge disappointment and the mountain of delinquent work that engulfed me at my job, maybe that's why toward the end I've been so, so exhausted. I wanted to write this down for any other breast cancer athletes out there, or just any cancer survivors in general who could benefit from my experience.
So today was the last Herceptin treatment that hopefully I will ever have to have. At the beginning of chemo I couldn't imagine enduring the cold, impersonal-ness of the open area filled with easy chairs in rows, with no privacy, seeing everyone else try to hang on for dear life and seeing some not able to do so. I don't sit in an easy chair. It's just not what I do. I didn't know how I'd make it sitting there for 3 hours at a whack, I really didn't. At first I took a huge bag full of reading material, drinks, snacks, my favorite blankie, and a small DVD player with a movie. I wouldn't look at or talk to any of the other patients. During the steroid portion of my chemo, I couldn't do anything because I was so agitated by the treatment. My whole body felt like it was crawling with ants. Steve would rub my back and head during that part, thank God, and it would help me get through it. During the Taxol, I'd have to hold ice blocks in each hand and step on one with each foot so there wasn't much I could do besides sit and watch my movie. After a few weeks it began to be a little fun to pick out a movie that I'd been wanting to watch. Before I knew it the 12 weeks of chemo were over and Steve stopped coming with me for the subsequent 9 months of weekly Herceptin. It was then I began to get to know the nurses and other patients. There was Linda, another breast cancer patient. She would bring her son and each week he's make some sort of trinket or jewelry out of beads. I never did know the guy's name because he wasn't too talkative but he had a beautiful sable and while Queensland Heeler service dog who'd lay beside him for hours. She always made me miss my dogs so much and while I thought of disguising one as a service dog, I knew none of them would ever actually stand for laying next to me in a chair for hours. I one day met a co-worker and his wife with breast cancer there. She discovered hers a month or so before mine but was finished way ahead of me. Last, my neighbor and co-worker Liz began to come with her husband with Lymphoma. It was really nice having her there sometimes and I think she felt better having me there too. Her husband was also finished before me and is doing well. The nurses were awesome. At first there were a couple I didn't like so much but then as I watched them week after week literally running from patient to patient, I developed the utmost respect for their unending work.
Anabeth was my first nurse and the one who gave me the indoctrination training my first day. She didn't work very often the days I was there though but I got to see her last week and say good-bye and she seemed really happy I was finished. Mary was my favorite. Her husband is heart surgeon. I'm sure she doesn't have to work but she does because she believes in what she does. She has dogs and is a runner too so we had lots in common and she had some really helpful hints through the treatments. It seemed like Mary always tried to be the one to take care of me when I came in. Then one day while I was at a funeral for a dear friend's daughter, Mary walked in. We hugged and it made an otherwise horrible day better. Turns out Mary is best friends with my friend's other daughter. What a small world. We talked often about the death wondering what each other knew but it turned out neither one of us ever found out much information. Then there was Rochelle who always paid attention to my jewelry and hair as it grew back. She was the one who told me that Herceptin really sucks, moreso than doctors tend to let their patients know about. Glenda was another sweetie and dog lover. She always had a smile for everyone. Shelley was like a neighborhood friend, always chatty about things going on. They all seemed a bit surprised this was my last treatment today and laughed and laughed that I was hurrying right into surgery tomorrow to remove my port. I'll remember them always and hopefully see them now and then when I make periodic visits to see Dr. Gray.
As I got more comfortable with going to the chemo room for my weekly treatments I finally began to look forward to the down time to read, listen to a book, put together dog training ideas or most recently just take a nice nap. At the beginning I never could've imagined I'd look forward to sitting down for awhile. This may be something I'll have to try to hold on to. Relaxing once in awhile is a good thing.
This is an extra long post because on this last day of treatment, the memories are flooding back and I don't want to forget them. I know I blogged throughout the ordeal but it felt like I was always trying to be optimistic and hopeful because I should. There was much I never wrote but probably will as I remember it as time goes by.
Today I was in a crazy good mood and felt like Joe at the end of the movie. It's freakin' over and I'd jump into a volcano too, I feel that invincible today. They greyness is gone, wiped away and the beautiful technicolor world has returned. Steve and I went for a walk at lunch and it was spectacular. We saw a huge furry rock chuck, dozens of mule deer and two huge ravens next to their nest.....and I saw a Sandhill Crane flying over 12th Street on my way into the plant this morning. Seeing wildlife always feels like a good omen.
Surgery to remove the port is at 12:45 tomorrow so I'm eating like a pig tonight! Always happy to have an excuse to do that. Steve helped by bringing home some raspberry cheesecake brownies and some cherry chocolate yogurt. Yum!!! Don't know when I'll blog again but plan on it at some point. Signing off for now.....thanks so much for following me!
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