diagnosis: ate muffin wrapper + 1.5cm

Posted on September 22, 2012 by meaghancc

New Fashions

another week has passed, as i settle into a rhythm with treatment, side effects, walking, working, remembering to rinse my mouth 7 times a day, guided imagery, trying to have a super healthy immune-building diet, acupuncture, and being thankful for all the thoughtful mail, surprises, visits, and everything else generous you do for us. and then repeat. my acupuncturist said that this is my full time job, and i really am starting to feel the weight of her words, both good and bad.

after i enjoyed a homemade zucchini muffin from sarah and michael yesterday, i tossed the paper wrapper in a bowl on the floor and walked away for a hot second. when i came back, whiz was sitting there licking his lips and cleaning his paws. the wrapper was missing. i looked everywhere and drew the obvious conclusion. so, one hour and few dollars later, we left the vet with an x-ray confirming he likely ate the wrapper but at least chewed it up enough to get it through his 5-month old intestines. i am not winning parent of the year award here. mike is trying to figure out how to recoup those costs by deducting the ER vet bill from any future discretionary expenses for whiz. so, it looks like no more blue dildo toys in whiz’s future for a long, long time.

i finished my third of twelve chemo treatments in this round with ease. they lowered my pre-med steroids, so i did not have the epic energy as in week’s past and our drawers remain unorganized and backyard unswept. my port and sutures are almost fully closed up, and my skin rash is subsiding but still taking its sweet ol’ time to go away. delayed healing is part of the deal under chemo (my knife-in-hand incident from 4 weeks ago left a lingering hematoma in my palm too). little side effects keep popping up, like a bloody nose. i’m shoving aquaphor up my nose to help with the dryness; the nurse practitioner (NP) said, “we’re robbing you of your nose hairs.” too bad as i think those are generally helpful in life. at least it’s temporary though. and i have to remind myself of this in general each day.

this particular NP isn’t going to be my best friend, so i’m looking to switch around my appointments to get the ‘sweet’ one. the NPs are the ones who will spend a lot of time with you, and i need someone with more compassion on that front. she was thorough but brusque. she also told me news that i didn’t particularly want to hear, that the surgeons could take all my lymph nodes since one to several (i mean, what’s several? more than 1? 5?) were found positive in the PET/CT and biopsy. that they would just keep going once they got in there. this was after telling her that i am most fearful of lymphadema, and she said, “i would be too.” sigh. this elephant arm condition is very painful and never goes away once it comes on. it can be aggravated by flying or getting IVs or your BP taken from that arm. it’s just scary to me and really impacts your life and lifestyle.

the best news that came to us this week was during this appointment. she clinically measured my palpable tumor, and it is confidently 1.5cm. that means that after 2 rounds of chemo, it shrunk down from a start at 1.75 – 2 cm. unless her measurement was off, but she wasn’t the kind of lady who would mess around. that gave me a boost for sure. that this sometimes imaginary disease that i have is real, and the nasty stuff going into my body is actually doing its job.

my wonderful nurse caroline–a cambodian woman with a south side boston accent–was surprised my hair hasn’t fallen out yet. it should have started last week, but nothing, except maybe my nose i guess. there are trials in play at UCSF where women wear these cold caps to avoid hair loss. beyond looking like an epileptic wearing a bright blue helmet, they seem like a huge pain. you have to sit for 3 hours post treatment with a freezing cold ice pack wrapped all over your head. and then do that several times throughout the week at home. i know hair loss will be a huge deal for me when it happens, but that extra stuff just doesn’t seem worth it, on top of everything else i am to remember. we almost saw a husband-wife team lose it in the infusion chair next to me while trying to get her cap on correctly. so maybe that was the biggest turn off of them all. stress on top of stess, with a side of stress, on a platter of stress. and then a dash of stress to finish it off.

i have a lot more to share with you soon, on clinical trials, diet, and grief. but i’ll save that for another day.

i hope wherever you are, there are the smells of fall. i miss that the most about the midwest. the smells of the air turning, cool nights, crispness of leaves. it stirs up a lot of fondness in my memory–playing soccer on saturday mornings with chapped faces, picking apples, friday night football games, and squeezing the minutes out of the day as the darkness practically tramples the light. and then knotty stuff–with the onset of fall comes closure, coldness, starkness. reminders of sad things like my grandma gg and nana’s deaths and my grandpa’s grief and holidays with empty chairs. having my toughest treatments when it’s going to be literally the darkest of days isn’t exactly look-forward-to-material.

but for now, i’ll celebrate the goodness of fall and the seasons changing. i’m going to a barn dance with friends tonight and breaking out those red cowboy boots that were made for a perfect fall day like today. and for stomping all over cancer…:)

xom

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Dispatch from the Lesser Half Vol. V

Posted on September 18, 2012 by meaghancc

Thank you all so much for your continued support, messages, cards, meals, visits – everything.  It really has meant a lot to us both, and especially Meaghan. And over 3,350 visits to this site…wow.  That’s about as many times as I apply sunblock in an average year.

As you can tell from my wife’s amazing posts, this treatment plan will definitely have its highs and lows. We certainly knew that after the diagnosis, but it doesn’t make the tough days any easier.  But a stupid rash, a sore knee, or the emotional decision to cut her hair short is not going to stop Meaghan. It may slow her down for a few minutes, but she picks herself right back up and tackles the next day. It really is something to watch up close.

Infusion #2 took place on Thursday and went well.  The nurses continue to provide great care and comfort.  While there are far too many people of all shapes and sizes being treated, it is comforting to know there are so many talented people to take care of them.  This time Meaghan’s treatment room had three other patients – two of which had no visitors with them.  What a battle to fight on your own – even if it is just one short block of time.  I did get a kick out of the one older woman in the room.  She was sleeping during her treatment and one of the orderlies had to wake her up to take her vital signs.  Quick on the draw she said “I just want to know I AM vital.”. Amen Barbara. Or whatever her name was.  But she looked like a Barbara, trust me. She is one tough broad.

This past Saturday Meaghan got to spend quality time with her two favorite men in San Francisco: 1) Whiz and 2) Lucas, her hairdresser.  Whiz continues to be the #2 star of the house after Meaghan.  He really brings her a lot of joy and spontaneous laughter, so I give him some credit for that.  I also give him credit for running full speed into a clear table in our living room on multiple occasions…so like us all, he has room for growth. Overall, he’s been a good addition.

The haircut experience went well.  Lucas did a great job and made Meaghan very relaxed.  Friends Sarah and Marina came along, and saved me from uncomfortably reading girly hair salon magazines. And as many of you have noted, Meaghan looks great.

I have noticed something odd about myself in the past month.  Ok, more odd.  I have caught myself watching You Tube videos of people winning things – award speeches, prize winnings, game shows – stuff like that.  It’s a tremendous waste of time when you are winding down at night.  I started thinking more about it and its probably why I am such big sports fan, or like going to concerts, or listening to a stand up comedian.  I enjoy watching things being done very well…and way beyond my ability.  I would guess that I am subconsciously doing it more in the last month to get my fix for a smile or good thoughts…it’s just kind of bizarre and I’m not sure why its relevant here, but I already typed it and I stink at typing so I’m not deleting it.  I am also finding funny things much more funny than I did a month ago. Laughter is good medicine, even for the person who isn’t sick…physically at least).  I wish I could tell you that I was bringing the medicine for Meaghan, but Whiz has made her laugh about fifty times more in the last month than I have in eight years. And he spends each day concussing himself and getting seizures from shadows…

Thanks again to all of you for sending your love and support our way. I can tell you that our favorite cancer fighter feels it. Keep it up.

mpc

 

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things were less hairy today…

Posted on September 16, 2012 by meaghancc

i mean, i knew ya’ll were amazing, but wow.  sharing that i was having a tough day brought alive–even more, if that was possible–your compassion and care. thank you so much.  i really do believe and feel that you’re part of my immune system.

mike and i walked through the neighborhood today to stretch my legs as my knee joints are starting to feel the chemo. we stopped in for brunch, and this song was playing.  it’s as equally appropriate for today as brandi carlisle was for yesterday.

and the haircut was bittersweet.  my wonderfully fabulous hairdresser lucas and i had a few teary moments. he assured me that hair has a funny way of growing back, and michelle williams (hair) has nothing on me. with friends in tow, we bagged up a pound or so of my hair to donate to locks of love, and i’m happily giggling at thinking of someone walking around with my hair on in the near future.

Fierce Pixiedespite having a phantom limb on my head today, i’ve been enjoying the ease of the pixie. yes, i squirted way too much shampoo out in the shower. yes, i laughed at all the cowlicks i never realized i had.  and yes, i demanded two friends to talk me off the ledge of thinking i look like 1) a boy or 2) a lesbian.  don’t get me wrong – both are great. i’m just neither.

so, here’s to starting the week off well, navigating new side effects with ease, feeling your warmness in my heart, and convincing my mom to lock up the computer before she takes her ambien each night.

xom

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have you ever wandered lonely through the woods…

Posted on September 15, 2012 by meaghancc

as the adrenaline of the last month wears off—and i’m fairly certain that is precisely what i was  living on—i’m starting to endure the stages of grief.  i tricked myself into thinking i had successfully levitated above this process and gone right to acceptance of my disease.  it was bound to happen though.

the past few days, what’s been on repeat in my head is, “this can’t be happening to me.  i’m so healthy.  this isn’t fair. i have so many exciting things to be doing instead of dealing with cancer. this can’t be happening to me.”  cancer cancer cancer…i want to punch a hole in the wall.  and then i sit here self-loathing for all those times that i wasn’t there for friend or  didn’t do something to the best that i could have. that this is some sick game of payback, karma is a bitch, what goes around comes around.  and then the bargaining starts.  it’s classic  textbook.  and it’s my life.

this spiral started when we found out that there is cancer in my lymph nodes, and i’m diagnosed as stage II.  yes, it’s not stage III or IV, but it’s not stage 0 or I.  yes, i could be a  leper on the street without arms and legs (thank you, ann) but i could be disease free going happily forward with my life as planned.

it’s just going to be one of those days.  likely adding to the fuel to the fire is a drug rash covering my whole torso, my nails starting to chip, and my hair getting all cut off as planned tonight.  it’s the ants that symbolize the elephant.

i continue to be surrounded by all this love and joy and generosity. yet, i feel very alone. i’m the only one who has to ultimately take this journey. i have to get through treatments, losing my identifying characteristics, surgery, lending my body to literal poison, and the mental anguish of possible reoccurrence and facing it all over again.

there’s one song that keeps ringing in my ears and captures exactly how i’m feeling today, better than i’m able to articulate here. it’s beautiful, sad, warm and true.

but, as has been and will continue to be, what keeps me going is all of you. despite how i might feel inside today, i look around and see love and goodness in the world. huge heaps of it. brian and lillian got engaged. mandy became a grandma and meredith an aunt. kristin and chris are sharing their vows as I type this (and connie will soon become a mother-in-law!). and then all the other wonderful things you have been sharing with me, while you cheer me on, support me from the sidelines and even run beside me (and for me—thank you Ohio-ans!). i open your notes very carefully, because you and these notes are a precious gift to me. and you just keep giving, and i’m so thankful for you.

so, not a lot of comic relief today—i’ll save that for mike—but a lot of truth.

happy weekending, loving, and sunshining – tomorrow will be better, i know it.

xom

Still fighting

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a case of the mondays…

Posted on September 10, 2012 by meaghancc

our weekend was fairly uneventful. if it were a book, chapter titles might include:

  • feeling glamorous while showering in glad press-n-seal
  • circa 1987: sending your husband to the corner drugstore to purchase maxi-pads because everything else is too toxic for his wife
  • remembering how to use maxi-pads, especially those with instructions in spanish
  • how to walk normally when you feel like you’re wearing an adult diaper (i didn’t say this blog is for the squeamish, did i?)
  • relearning how to clean up after/cook for/survive without your amazing parents doing everything for you
  • teaching your cat how to fetch (seriously, he loves to fetch a blue dildo-like toy) (i didn’t say this blog is for children either, did i?)
  • what’s this weird rash on my stomach?
  • and how to enjoy nice surprise [fill in blank] [for example, flowers, ice cream, visit] from friends.

not necessarily a NYT best seller, but we’ll take it. right now, my side effects have been pretty manageable. i’m tired and feel like i’m in a fog. mike patiently recites what we did each day to help me remember. so if i forget something we talked about, please forgive me (e.g., my entire last post…no recollection of even typing the thing). there really isn’t a pill to help manage that side effect, but exercise might help, so my walking partners start tonight.

my skin has been reacting with blisters and overall irritation to the post-surgery port dressing, so the doctor had me come in friday to get new dressings that were hypo-allergenic. my same port surgeon changed my dressing, and when he walked into the exam room, he said, “hey, cat massage!” so, it turns out that not only was he actually paying attention to my babble during surgery but he was also kind enough to make fun of me about it a full 24 hours later. i got my dressings changed again today at the infusion center, and hopefully in a few more days, my skin will return to normal when these dressings come off fully as planned.

as for the rest of the day, we just can’t get enough of the cancer center on divisadero.  i had my lymph nodes biopsied to determine staging and whether the nodes will be removed during surgery. as has been par for the course, a procedure that should have taken an hour or less and one shot, took almost three hours and five shots. and four doctors. i was calm enough to comment that with four doctors in the room, there had to be a good joke in there somewhere. the most charming doctor of the bunch said, “don’t worry – we’ve already changed the lightbulbs.” everybody’s a comedian. they were having trouble getting enough and the right tissue cells from my lymph node, using a hollow needle and guided ultrasound. once they extracted the cells, they immediately looked at them under a microscope to make sure they had what they needed.

we’ll know more in a few days, and i’ll likely get my formal pre-treatment staging. something i’m both looking forward to knowing but also dreading. i have absolutely no control over it, but it slots me into a category of success, or years likely cancer free after treatment, or rates of reoccurrence. sometimes you just don’t want to know those numbers if they are not good ones.

i will admit…everything that i’m experiencing is exceptionally bad in the moment, but that moment passes (time has a funny way of always moving forward, good or bad, right?) and i can focus on other things. like reading your letters, posts and emails. i love these things, hearing about what is going on in your life and with your children, grandchildren, pets, neighbors, school, work, trips…anything really. this cancer business can feel terribly me me me. because it is. i’m literally fighting for my life. but that gets boring fast. i want to hear about you–the good and the bad.

i also need to let you know that no matter if i say i’m fine, i’m not always fine. this–accepting that i’m not always fine and not always being fine–is really hard. each day brings a new challenge. when i try and brush off your support or offerings, please don’t let me get away with it. i need you all now more than ever. and in general, you’re delivering big time. i just wanted to remind you…and myself too.

stay well, and big hugs –

xom

 

 

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Dispatch from the Lesser Half Vol. IV

Posted on September 8, 2012 by meaghancc

Hi all – thanks so much for the continued messages and support. It’s amazing to have almost 2,500 visits to the site thus far.  We’re blessed to have this great bunch right behind Meaghan on this fight. As she mentioned in her posts, she can very much feel the love.

I haven’t weighed in on this yet, so I will now: there is nothing unremarkable about Meaghan.  Not her brain, not her beauty, not her spirit.  As you can tell from her posts, she continues to be upbeat and strong.  Thursday was a long day – no doubt.  It was certainly tough to see her off to the port surgery since I knew that was going to be the toughest part of her day.  And the waiting around is just brutal. The success of the port insertion kind of carried Meaghan through the rest of Thursday, which included a lot of waiting room time and a visit with the oncologist before the chemo infusion.  She continues to get top-notch care – the infusion nurses were very attentive and caring so that will make the next 11 weeks a bit more bearable.

I also saw Meaghan’s parents off to the airport today.  I can’t even begin to explain the amount of support they provided us over the last few weeks.  In addition to being there as Meaghan’s parents and comforting her, they did a crazy amount of work done around the house as we continue to settle in (landscaping, framing, floor repair, etc). Cleaning and cooking and all of the daily things that take so much time – all done. Just unreal and I can’t thank them enough – and I promise the rest of the art will be hung on the house by the time we get back – Rink challenged me and I’m competitive.  They even waited out all day on Thursday with us at the appointments which certainly comforted Meaghan. All in all, as far as in-laws go, I got some great ones.

Meaghan alluded to all of the support we are getting locally through our friends.  We have a calendar through a website called Meal Train of various errands/visits/meals that all kinds of people have signed up for to make our lives easier.  I will say that the people who are doing the meals better bring it – since Heather outdid herself on Thursday night.  It’s great to have this so I can feel comfortable that Meaghan is getting everything she needs and has company when she wants it.  I swear I’m not completely helpless, but there is only so much time in the day and taking a few things off the ledger really helps.  Now if I can just teach Whiz how to give tax advice…

I’m writing this as I am about to get going on some house projects in my new pajama jean shorts (thanks Katie and Tim).  As I always say, “you shouldn’t hang photos and sweep your yard unless you are looking good wearing oversized shorts that look like jeans.”  It’s kind of a wordy motto, but they are words to live by.

And I can’t go without a Whiz update: Well, it happened.  The little 4 lb. a-hole (yeah, I said it) took his name a little too literally yesterday and took a whiz on our bed.  Maybe it was his anti-chemo protest.  Either way, it was not appreciated.  Why he chose to do it yesterday morning we will never understand, until he learns to talk (soon, right? I know nothing about kittens).  All I do know is that Meaghan immediately began rationalizing his behavior – Whiz can do no wrong. Meg is lucky I’m wearing my aforementioned pajama shorts, otherwise I may have chosen to “rebel” myself this morning.  I can assure you I would not have received the same forgiveness The Whiz has enjoyed.

Nice weekend to all.  Thanks you again for all of your support.

mpc

 

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sweet 16 in suite 16 + auto immune response

Posted on September 7, 2012 by meaghancc

l.OgSEGhhWBVvWxNxFyesterday was a big 11-hour day at the hospital, with the icing on the cake being ~4 hours of chemo infusion in a private suite, or suite 16 for my sweet 16, as i count down my 16 chemo treatments. fabulous 15 up next week. we’ll see how long this naming convention lasts, especially if i starting experiencing nasty side effects that balance out the ledger (negative nancy 9 anyone?).

but right now, i feel great! i woke up sore from the port but so far, no major aches to report of. this can be expected as the pre-med steroids i took help mask everything else in my body for 1-2 days. i was told i’ll feel good enough to reorganize my drawers and scrub the floors today. maybe next time i’ll actually want to do those things. but for now, with the port, i’m not to even lift the kitten for a week. the nurses anticipated that tomorrow and sunday, i might not want to get out of bed. luckily (yes, mike), we have every project runway from here to the dawn of time ready in the queue. and a snuggly kitten. and awesome leftovers from a friend who dropped by dinner last night. and a new freezer my parents have been filling with delicious food options for me (e.g., carrot ginger fennel soup) and mike (meat lovers di’giorno pizza).

seeing your messages, texts, and handwritten letters of support and that you were thinking of us the past few days have carried such deep meaning. i mean, so deep in the gut where it feels so strong i can cry if i think about it hard enough. i believe in healing energy and how it flows in a mindful way to its proper destination. i felt your warmth, like a good friend sharing a cup of tea by my side. i could see you all there smiling…and laughing big hearty laughs. i’m now counting you in as part of my immune system response. you step up. you fight. you protect. and you love. it’s like i had a few million extra white blood cells just chillin’ out at the ready. today’s picture is one from the heiltsuk first nation in bella bella, british columbia, sent by a dear friend and colleague. it’s a picture from the past, and i know where some of these kids are now in the present…doing amazing things with their lives. you all continue to inspire me in so many ways.

i was most nervous about getting the port, being sedated with the same anesthetics that caused so much discomfort before, getting my chest cut open, and then having this semi-permanent bump and permanent scar as a reminder of what i went through. while i was mildly sedated, i also had to be slightly awake and follow directions, like to turn my neck further to the side, take a deep breath and hold it, etc. when mike saw me off to surgery, i was a hot crying mess. the nurse pulled me together right away with her sing-songy voice and questions meant to distract. she’s a free diver in the pacific ocean and has a granddaughter who is also a taurus. we had much in common.

the nurses and techs made it more bearable, wearing iron aprons in catchy camouflage and leopard prints, since it’s surgery with an active x-ray guiding placement of the catheter through my neck vein and into one of my main arteries. the tube is attached to what i equate is a rubber disc, like you see on the bottom of a chair to prevent skidding. going forward, nurses stick that rubber disc just under my skin to get meds in the catheter. pretty serious mainlining. i got to watch on the x-ray machine where the port was being placed too, which was relatively surreal to see my ribs and a mouse-like creature atop them.

as i was laying there under the bright lights, with my left boob oh-so-comfortably taped as far down as it could go to my belly button, and otherwise bundled up like an ugly blue paper burrito, i had to pass the discomfort by focusing on other things. after thinking about all of you, i switched gears and asked the surgeon possibly twenty million questions. somewhere deep pocket, i remembered that surgeons aren’t always those with the bedside manner of mother theresa (mo-t for short, one of my heroes). but in my relaxed state, i thought i could change all that and inquired to him on all manner of sorts (e.g., what’s your favorite surgery? have you ever had a cat run across your chest because that’s what this feels like? i was supposed to be in greenland today – what’s your next vacation location? tell me about how the sutures work? how many stitches will there be? do you know my friend michael at USCF? the answers i got were pretty straight up, “no” to all of the above. but he did his job and looks to have done it well.

because i had to fast before surgery, my parents and mike packed me good snacks (and fruit, tara!) to slam in post-op recovery. we moved on to meet with dr. rugo. everything is a green light. she was thrilled at the pet/ct results. when she left, she gave me gentle hug and told me she thinks i’m going to do great here. and today, i believe her. maybe by the end of this, she’ll start looking at mike and engaging with him more (and, he says, not walking right into him to get him to be the one to move), but i love that she focuses on me as the patient. she’s into chick power, and i dig it.

for chemo, i was lucky to get a private suite and full bed to relax in. the nurses are amazing, attentive, and explained everything that was happening. when they started a new med, they had to wait with me for 20 minutes or so to ensure i didn’t have anaphylactic shock or big tremors. i had 45 minutes of pre-meds for nausea, digestion, allergic reactions, and some pain from my port. then i started on herceptin for almost 2 hours, followed up by taxol for an hour. i was encouraged to sleep, eat, move around, and use the washroom. we learned chemo patients have to flush twice, so that those non-chemo visitors don’t get the effervescence of our chemo drugs. crazy. the infusion center is a funny mix of people doing all of the above, dragging around their IVs on wheels. some bald and beautiful and others with full heads of hair. some without company and others with an entourage. knitting, reading, snoozing, listening to music, texting. it fell like a weird airport lounge in that regard. only, people weren’t so mad. it was a pretty placid yet busy place. airport lounges could take some tips on chemo infusion centers, i think. but, i’ll figure out that one in my next life.

this week, i have appointments set up with an acupuncturist, nutritionist, yoga instructor, exercise specialist, scarf/wig specialist (the wig may be something optional for those times i don’t want to be identified as a cancer patient, like at the opera)(because we go the opera, like, every week)(or have never been once), and my haircutter who is picked out the ‘fiercest pixie cut the world will know’ for me. you’ll see a whole new me soon!

i can’t think of words that fairly describe what this life and journal experience is, sharing it with you all. it’s overwhelming, cathartic, fulfilling, and just plain good. you are all so special in life and special to us. you hit the nail on the head every day here. and for that, we are eternally grateful. we owe you one. and look forward to giving you support back when we are 100% again.

much love and until then,

xom

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pet/ct…comin’ in hot

Posted on September 4, 2012 by meaghancc

a quick update for everyone who has been sending warm thoughts all day. my pet/ct came back and there are no metastasis. that’s very good news. i have activity in three lymph nodes unfortunately. i will need to somehow squeeze in a biopsy of the lymph nodes before chemo on thursday, a minor detail they forget to schedule for me until this afternoon.  we are hopeful the cancer in the lymph nodes will melt away with chemo. thus, my treatment plan remains the same.

while i’m happy with this, yes, i had been hoping in some deep recess in my mind that the pet/ct wouldn’t pick up anything. that what you’ve all been doing would be working a complete and unscientific miracle. i knew it was a long shot, but it still stings to hear again and again that you have cancer.

the pet/ct did note my very enlarged ovaries which are still angry after the IVF. it also said my brain was “unremarkable.”  let’s add some insult to injury here…!  what i do know is that “unremarkable” in the cancer community is actually a highly sought after finding.  it doesn’t stop mike from being highly amused and having new fodder to work with for his aspiring comedian blogger act.

more soon on the chemo teaching. but a teaser might be:  possible side effects include every crappy thing you could possibly think of, oh, and possibly death.  but, we are fully equipped with six prescriptions and an arsenal of over-the-counter complements.  and a whole lotta love:)

xom

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i am not infallible

Posted on September 3, 2012 by meaghancc

another week down, another week starting. happy labor day to everyone, both south and north of the (canadian) border.

the whole avocado-knife in hand thing was stupidly upsetting. stupidly because it got into my head. people cut themselves in kitchens all the time. i’ve never done it until now. and it’s another reminder to me that i’m not infallible nor am i perfectly healthy or strong. sitting on the floor and bleeding stunk. i felt helpless and probably got more upset by letting my mind wander forward towards chemo and is this how chemo is going to be some days, sitting on the kitchen floor crying?

beyond seeing how well my at-home care team responded, the highlight of it all was that my mom–highly allergic to cats mom who is making a big sacrifice for me by being around this kitten–picked up whiz kitty and pet him, because she didn’t want him to “worry” about me sitting on the floor looking greenish. now if that’s not a heroic feat of strength, i don’t know what is.

i had some good news this week. the genetic tests came back, and 95% of me is BRCA negative. while we fight with the insurance company to pay for the second test on the other 5% of my genome, i feel pretty good that i now have only a 1% chance of carrying the gene. talk about a time when living the high life is in the 99%! hopefully we’ll get the insurance fiasco resolved this week and have full knowledge of my situation going forward.

my echocardiogram shows my heart function as completely normal and healthy. that’s a good baseline to be going into chemo with. let’s hope it doesn’t change. the nice german tech when asking who my doctor is, said “oh, they brought out the best, the big guns for
you.” after the slight panic that i even need the big guns, that knowledge ultimately gives me comfort.

the pet/ct was something i wouldn’t want to do every day. the highlights were:

  • the radioactive dye. well, not really a highlight but…interesting. before the tech inserted the dye through my IV, we had a conversation like this:  tech, “the dye will make you feel like you wet yourself.”  me: “how will you know i didn’t wet myself.” tech, “good point.” she was speaking the truth as it had that effect. the dye floods through you in a fast warm whoosh that lasts for a minute or so. it was particularly crazy in my lips, toes, and fingers. and i (thankfully) haven’t had that full pee-pants feeling in over thirty years and i don’t want it again any time soon.
  • dave matthews band. the tech was about my age and rattled off what music she had to offer during the scans to make being still in a tube for twenty-five minutes go by faster. she brought me back to my poser-hippie phase in high school, rocking out to DMB jam sessions as riverport in STL.

the pet/ct works in a really cool science way. once the IV is started, they inject you with a sugar. cancer cells have fast metabolisms, so are using sugar at a higher rate than normal cells. the dye that’s injected travels to cells that are fast metabolizers. so the scans will light up areas with cancer. i’m so hopeful it’s just contained to my breast and only one lymph node. i’m just not ready for  metastatic anything right now.

getting a test on a friday is bad enough to wait through the weekend. having it be a holiday weekend is really dreadful. i don’t get results until tuesday. i hate this on a few levels, but mostly it feels eerily familiar from when had my biopsy on a friday and the mind-numbing results that i have cancer communicated to me on a tuesday. let’s hope we don’t have a repeat performance.

beyond your continued sweetness and surprises every day, mike mentioned my dentist. I had to cancel an appointment later this fall because of chemo.  i was bummed about this because who doesn’t love that feeling of having their teeth cleaned? and keeping your mouth clean during chemo is apparently very important. having to wait another eight months to be cleared for this seemed like a strange punishment on top of everything else. i offered to pay the cleaning fee because insurance doesn’t cover cleanings but every six months and i am only four months in. he called me back, got me in before his vacation, and gave me a complimentary cleaning. on top of that, his office staff were all wearing their breast cancer ribbons and sent me off with a bouquet of flowers and beautiful card. i know people cry at the dentist all the time, but this time the reasons were a bit different (side note: if any SF folks need a dentist, i have an amazing one).

acts of kindness like this remind me how good people are.  and i hope all of you feel this kindness coming back to you. i’m enjoying me last few days port-free before i begin the real work of cancer. i’m sleeping fine except some more dreams that wake me up. most notably: mike and i at a bar trying to find him a new wife. he asked me to check out some blonde’s hips.  i don’t necessarily think of mike as a hip guy, frankly. and after being awake for awhile now, i realize that this didn’t actually happen and therefore i cannot rationally be mad at him.

before i sign off, i want to share a big hug back to our friends in ireland who sent us this picture. we miss all of you too!

more soon and continued thanks for all of your generous and loving selves-Image

xom

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Dispatch from the Lesser Half, Vol. III

Posted on September 1, 2012 by meaghancc

A new month brings continued thanks to all of you for your support. It’s an honor to have some many caring friends and family…and you are all talented posters as well.  As you can see from her poignant posts, my wife continues to be poised, undeterred, and strong.

This weekend will bring lots of work around the house, but also a fun day today which will involve time with some friends outside in our neighborhood this afternoon.  Of course, I have already taken in the Irish’s 50-10 victory over our Naval sea buddies.  I know you are all breathless in anticipation of my assessment, so here goes : St. Ignatius’ JV team may have been able to beat Navy. ND didn’t have to show much to win, so it’s hard to tell if we are any good.  I still predict a 7-win season and hope to be wrong.

As many of you know, Meaghan and I had planned to be in Dublin with friends for the game and to visit many of the old haunts (read: pubs…I mean…. churches) I may or may not have frequented during my “study” abroad semester in Ireland.  Although we had to cancel our trip, we are living vicariously through our friends who have been great about sending email updates and photos, all of which have been surprisingly un-incriminating up to this point.  Frankly, I expect more of them.

Anyway..last evening and this weekend were supposed to be semi-relaxing and productive but we had a slight monkey wrench last night in the kitchen.  While trying to remove the pit from an avocado Meaghan accidentally stabbed/cut herself with a serated knife in the palm.  Fortunately the cut was not too deep or wide and we were able to get her on the ground and apply pressure to stop the bleeding while the Calcari’s ran to Walgreen’s to get first aid supplies, since of course we had nothing more potent than Disney band-aids.  Needless to say, Meaghan got quite a scare, but thanks to the noble work of Dr. Reno Calcocky she is patched up and good to go. Currently she is off getting her teeth cleaned since her dentist was nice enough to fit her in advance of her treatments.  It’s a no-no to get dental work done while undergoing chemo.

In other news, Meaghan was radioactive yesterday.  I’m not using some hip-hop euphemism for her radiant beauty.  She was literally radioactive.  The baseline PET-CT was yesterday and it went smoothly.  Results to come Tuesday, but we’re glad the test is over as it involves another IV (Meaghan no likey needles). At one point we had about an hour in between the IV being started to inject the dye used for the scan and the actual test.  I was told to sit in the ladies’ changing room and Meaghan would be brought back out to sit with me.  Now, sitting in the ladies changing room may sound awesome. This humble amateur blogger can report that it was decidedly unawesome.  I was mostly looked at as a pariah by the confused older women staring at me sitting in their robes.  I don’t blame them.  I probably got things off on the wrong foot when I asked each of them “Hey, what’s your sign?” as I winked at them.  I kid.  I didn’t wink.

When Meaghan came back for the wait before the scan, she was told she couldn’t talk. Advantage Mike.  So I decided it would be best to hold a conversation in which I answered for Meaghan, being the doting husband I am.  In a startling turn of events, I somehow felt like I was on the losing end of the conversation the entire time, and by the time she was called in for the scan I was somehow going online to buy Meaghan and her friends tickets to some secret picnic thing I was not invited to.  I have no idea how this happened and am still rattled. As for the scan, while it was a weird experience Meaghan handled it like a champ.

I can let Meaghan explain more about Whiz’s progress as she took him for his first vet appointment.  My summary: he doesn’t have any crazy cat diseases, he has some weird pee issues, and needs to drink more water.  Basically the same as my dad.

I’m off to help hang some art around the house until Meaghan and her mom tell me to stop.  Earlier today, Kathy seemed a little too impressed that I knew how to make myself scrambled eggs.  Just wait till I grab a drill.

More to come this week after chemo teaching on Tuesday and the first treatment on Thursday.

Thanks again to all.  Go Irish.

mpc

 

 

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