Pole Dancing

I forgot that I had started this post. This major milestone week happened in October. Sorry for the delay.

When I started this blog, I had planned on posting at least once a week. In reality, my life is not that interesting. And when you are sick, you spend a lot of time sitting home doing nothing. Not exactly inspiration for great prose. But when it rains, it pours. I hit three major milestones/events in less than a week.

The first is sad. We had to put down our beloved cat, Buster. Her full name is Bustopher Jones from T.S. Elliot's Book of Practical Cats. She is all gray with white paws and a white chest and belly. Like a little tuxedo. We had a vet tell us she was male which is why she has a boy name. Needless to say, we did not go back to that vet. We bought her from the pet department at Swallen's department store for $3.00. She was asleep, sitting on a ledge in the cage and she kept wavering back and forth, like she was going to topple over any second. We didn't go in looking for a cat. We had one already and it had just been two days since our second cat had died. We were still grieving but this little kitten was pulling at our hearts.

That was almost 20 years ago. She had started to lose some weight last winter and it had become harder for her to keep her food down. We switched her to wet food and she seemed to get a little better. And then I was diagnosed and Buster's health was put on the backburner. It got to the point to where we couldn't ignore her anymore. She was wanting to be fed every 2 hours. She stopped grooming herself and her once beautiful coat was all matted and smelled. She cried all the time and was unsteady when she walked. We took her to the vet and he seemed to think she had thyroid problems. He took some blood and gave her a prescription. The blood work though, showed she was in renal failure. We could try prescription food, but it did not look good. And it did not get better. She would not eat the food so she was not getting the medicine she needed. As hard as it was for me to have to let go, we knew we could not let her suffer anymore. I held her in my arms as the doctor gave her the injections. I don't think I have ever felt so much sadness over the loss of a pet before.

Two days later, I celebrated my 50th birthday. And yes I mean celebrate. I never quite understood women who don't like to disclose their age. I don't like getting old, but that's life. And now in a battle for my life, getting older is a good thing. I'm still here and that's more important than worrying about my age.

The last milestone was my last chemo treatment. This was definitly cause for celebration. I came prepared. I had my hot pink wig and a pink feather boa. I did a little jig and danced around my IV pole before the nurse unhooked me. Yes, I was pole dancing. I may have looked like a fool, but it felt good. I still have another surgery, radiation and Herceptin therapy ahead, but the worst is over. I look forward to getting some of my energy back and just feeling good again.

It's nice to have milestones. They let us know we're moving forward. I wish they could all be good but the sad ones have their place too. Til next time,

Love,

Sherry

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Well I had treatment number 6 of 8 today. Yeah, I'm 75% done. I'm still looking at another surgery to get the lymph nodes and clean up some of the tissue but that's going to be a piece of cake after chemo. Yes, chemo is it's own special hell. I will be sinking into by Friday morning and it is not fun. I thought the AC regimen was tough, but Taxol is twice as bad.

One of the side effects of Taxol, is pain in the bones, joints and muscles. For me, it was excruciating. I could barely move. I started with Advil which didn't even make a dent. Thank God for Percocet. It gave me some relief but barely. I would watch the clock for when I could take it again. Dr. McCullough told me today to take the percocet, then after 2 hours, take the Advil. I could alternate every 2 hours and that might help ease the pain a little quicker.

The only place I was comfortable was in my bed. When you are sick, your bed is the place you want to be. The only thing is, our bedroom is on the second floor. We live in a small 6 room Cape Cod and the only bathroom is on the first floor. I try to keep lots of fluids in me and that means lots of trips to the bathroom. I was crawling back up the stairs. I tried to stay on the couch but it too uncomfortable. I think it made the pain worse. I'm prepared this time though. We bought a bed to set up in our back room. It's not my bed, but it is a bed. Its only about 20 feet from the bathroom, plus I have cable in this room.

The pain should start easing by Monday, but then the numbness comes. It's in my legs and arms. It also gradualy goes away but not completely. I still have some numbness in my fingers and the bottom of my feet. Not so bad now, but I had to use a cane for a few days. The one I have was my brothers. It has Harley Davidson symbols all over it. It makes me feel like a bit of a badasss.


I mentioned the surgery earlier. I don't exactly know when it will be yet, but it may keep me from going back to work at my target date of end of October/beginning of November. I would like to hold off for a few months. It's all going to depend on scan results after the chemo. There were some cancer cells in a few lymph nodes. I'm hoping the chemo has shrunk them or killed them completely. I have my fingers crossed on this one.

When you are sick or hurt, you want your mom. She's been gone 5 years now. I can't believe it has been that long. I still have Dad but he's going through his own health issues. I know it can't be easy on him. He's dealing with cancer, he lost 1 child to cancer, and now he has another fighting it also. A big burden for any parent. I think the stress of Butch's illness is what activated his. He had been in remission for so many years. People have always told me I look like my mom. I never saw it till now. Only thing is, when I look in the mirror, the image I see, is not the image of my mother, that I want to remember. It's her cancer face. I would much rather see her face the day I graduated from college, the day I got married, or any of the days her 3 grandchildren were born. Just not the cancer face.

Days of Our Lives

Well, this weekend, my only child, my 18 year old baby, Alex, started his college life. Now it's not the extreme transition to dorm life, as he is living at home and commuting to Xavier University. But still it is the next stage of his life and also one for Ken and me.

We went down to the bookstore a day early so I could show him how to find the books for his classes and also how to pick the best used books. I remember when I was a freshman at Ohio State how lost I was the first time I went to the bookstore. I didn't realize they had the textbooks by class in a big room in the back and was trying to find my texts in the regular books. It was all so confusing and made me wonder why I ever went to such a large school. But that is the difference, isn't it? OSU has over 40,000 students and Xavier's freshman class this year is just over 1200. Xavier's bookstore is not much more floor space than my little 6 room Cape Cod house.

Friday was the beginning of Manresa for Xavier freshmen. The easiest way to explain Manresa is that it is like a giant retreat. It's for bonding as a class with lots of small group activities, informational sessions, recreational time, special speakers, and entertainment. Before the parents leave their children, they have a community celebration in the Cintas Center. Father Graham, the president of the school gave a very encouraging and sometimes funny address about the students passing through Xavier as they begin the rest of their lives.

It was during this speech that I started thinking about my friend Dawn. For those of you that don't know, it was because of her that my cancer was caught when it was. We met through Scouting and Alex is the same age as her oldest, Kyle. Dawn dropped alot of her Scouting activites when she was diagnosed with breast cancer a few years ago. She lost her battle in May. I was at her memorial when I realized that it had been awhile since I had done a self exam and had been putting off my mammogram for over 3 years. I found the lump the next morning.

I was thinking that Dawn didn't get to have this moment with Kyle. She didn't make it to his high school graduation. They had a private one for her while she was in hospice but it didn't have the pomp and circumstance and joy that I felt when my son's name was called in the grassy courtyard of his school. Not only that, her sons will never get to bring their future wife home to meet Mom, or introduce her to her grandchildren. And that made me so sad. And it made me afraid. What if I don't get these future moments too? I'm fighting hard so that I do, but there is that little tiny bit inside that says your best might not be enough.

So we get to the end of the celebration, and Father Graham gets back up to give the blessing and he says he has 3 blessings. The first is for the parents to the child. We are to put our hand on our child. I can't remember what he said, but I was already on the verge of tears from my thoughts and they just started flowing as he spoke. When he finished, he made a comment about if there were any dry eyes in the house. The second blessing was from the child to the parent and my eyes may as well have been a faucet. Don't ask me what the third blessing was for as I really don't have a clue.

As we filed out of the arena and back out to the sunlight, families all around us were saying their goodbyes. Even though Alex wasn't living on campus, he wasn't coming home with us, as he still activities to attend. He said good bye, I kissed him on his cheek and he took off across the campus without looking back. As I climbed in the car, the tears started flowing again. Ken asked me what was wrong. "My baby is going to college!" Another milestone, another day of life. I have so many more that I don't plan on missing.

Riding the Beast

Well, I have my third chemo treatment tomorrow. All of the awful side effects have finally hit me: the hair loss, the nausea and especially the fatigue. I realize it has been awhile since my last update, but I often just don't have the energy. And truthfully, it's just too hard to write down some of the things I've been going through. Putting it down on paper (figurativly) makes it all too real. This really is happening to me.

I've had good days and bad days. The smallest things can make me cry: a phone call from a friend, a smile from my son, the knowledge that a small country church has me on their prayer list. I'm so overwhelmed by the kindness of people. Those that love me and those who just know that I need good thoughts and strength to get through this.

I wanted so much to be able to work through this. Work gives a nomalacy to my life and I so want normal again. It gave me something else to think about. It felt good to have people around me and I miss them. I hear that it is really busy right now and wish that I could help contribute. But the effort is too much. Sometimes I'm lucky if I get out of bed. On days that I do feel good, a trip to the drugstore or even a shower will wipe me out. So most of my time is spent on the couch, watching daytime TV and playing around on my laptop. It leads to being very restless somedays and not able to do anything about it.

I've decided that cancer is like riding a roller coaster. That first big climb up the hill has the same anticipation and terror that waiting on those first test results have. And then when you first hear that c word, it's going over the plunge, straight down into the deepest despair. Then you're just along for the ride, with all the ups and downs, bumps and bruises. Sometimes you are a little airborne and it doesn't feel too bad, but then you hit another bump or go down another hill and you want to hold on for dear life. But the roller coaster ride eventually comes to an end and you have that adrenaline rush that makes it fun and exciting and wanting to do it again. The cancer ride has no end. It just keeps going and going. Always up and down. It doesn't seem like it will ever end. The station is nowhere in sight. I feel like I am going to beat this and be as good as new in a year. But I'll still be on the ride watching for it to come back. Once cancer has it's foot in the door, it's always looking to push it's way back in.

I didn't mean to end on such a negative note. I really do feel good about how things are going. It's just the getting there that is so hard sometimes.

Till next time,
Love,
Sherry

I Thought I Was Done Taking Tests When I Graduated College!

Well, these were going to be weekly posts, but there is so much going on, I decided to update whenever something new was happening. I hope I don't bore you all too much with my ramblings, but I do have a lot of time on my hands right now.

Yesterday, I met my oncologist. Dr. McCullough looks to be in her mid to late thirties. I'm not always the best judge of people's age but she gives off a young vibe. Dr. Stahl thought we would be a good fit and I took it as a good sign when she came into the exam room in white capris and a pink blouse. We were twins! We talked about my general health, my biopsy, the CT scan, and the bone density exam. I also told her about by little escapade getting the CT and bone density. She did a quick physical.

She then started talking to me about the chemo. I was warned that, yes, my hair would fall out. I have had long hair since I was in second grade. The exact lenght has varied over the years but I've always been able to pull it back into a ponytail. This may be the hardest thing for me to deal with. I hope to have a friend cut it about chin lenght soon. Once the chemo starts, I'll go shorter until it's gone.

Another thing I have to look forward to, is that I have to have a port put in to administer the chemo. Whoa! Why can't I just get them through a regular IV? Number 1, right now I only have one arm to use for all the blood draws and drugs I'm going to have in the weeks ahead. That's going to be hard on the veins in my arm. Number 2 is that chemo is basically putting poison in your body to kill those bad cells. They can be very harsh and that's going to be hard on those veins too. Why subject them to more trauma then necessary?

But before the fun can begin, there's a few things to take care of. Dr. McCullough wanted to take a little closer look at some of those cysts that showed up on the CT scan. Before I left her office at the Oncology Center, they took more blood and lined up all kinds of tests for me to take. I don't think Dracula needed this much blood. I was going to have an MRI on Thursday, a PET scan on Friday, and a MUGA scan on Monday. Don't forget that I also still had to get my stitches out on Friday too. Oh, and I also needed to call my dentist and get my regular checkup moved up. Dental work is not a good idea during chemo or with a port. I was also going to have to be more careful about the food I ate. Make sure things are completely cooked and fresh veggies are cleaned. No trips to the salad bar. Too many germy hands there.

So that was yesterday. Today I went for the MRI. Because of my reaction to the CT contrast, the scheduler at the Oncology Center had written the order for without contrast. Well, that was going to be a problem. The contrast was needed to focus in on the liver. I didn't want to take the contrast. I did not want to relive Monday again. The tech explained to me that it was a completely different kind of dye. The CT is iodine based and the MRI is iron based. My reaction was probably due to the iodine. After tracking down Dr. McCullough for a consult, I consented to the dye. Guess what? I had another IV in my right arm. I think I'm becoming a human pincushion.

This was an open MRI. The tube was about as long as a love seat. It was open on both ends. I laid down on the table and they covered me with a sheet. Molly, the younger of the 2 technicians then laid two plates over my torso. I felt like I had on Star Wars Stormtrooper armor. She then put some kind of tube over them. I told her I still had my stitches and was still a little tender. She rearranged the plates so they didn't bother me as much. She then wrapped what was like a giant seat belt around it all. I had to put on a thin fabric shower cap. Holly gave me some headphones so I could listen to music during the scans.

Holding my arms close to my side, the bed moved into the tube. I had my eyes closed but I opened them when it stopped moving. There was more room in there than I expected. If I raised my eyes and looked up, I could see the ceiling out the end of the tube. The bone scan was more claustorphobic to me. It was supposed to take about 20 minutes. It wasn't a continuous scan, there were a lot of small scans. Every time a scan would start, it would ping or bang real loud. This wasn't so bad. But then I had to start holding my breath during the scans. The scans weren't that long, about 20 seconds each. But those 20 seconds can seem like an eternity to an asthmatic. Sometimes I got a chance to recover between scans and sometimes it seemed like I barely caught my breath before I had to hold it again. The elastic on the shower cap was starting to slide down my forehead. I couldn't move my arms to push it out of the way. Between the scans, I would try to wiggle my head to push it back up.

The scan was over much sooner than I expected. I've been home for 3 hours and there's been no reaction to the dye, so I guess I've aced the first test. We'll see how the rest of them go.

Till next time
Love,
Sherry

My original Facebook posts on Notes page:

Initial Pathology Report 6-26-09
Ok , this isn't much. I have to wait til Tuesday for the full thing. The power was out all day at my doctors so she called the pathology lab to get the basics. They found ductal cancer. This is the most common. It was also in the blood vessels. This doesn't mean that it has spread past the breast tissue, just that it was in the blood vessels there. I will need a bone scan and a CT of my chest, abdomen and pelvis to see if it has spread. Being in the blood vessels is what was causing the redness, swelling and the warm skin. I went to breastcancer.org and it sounds like the full name is Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. I still feel good about everything. I have some pain at the incision site especially when I get up and move around. Part of this comes from the drains I still have and they pull sometimes when I move. It's weird how I see my body now. I used to think I wouldn't mind being overweight if I just had smaller breasts. Well, now I only have one and my belly is fat. I can see it now. The scale may now say I'm 7 lbs lighter( yes, it weighed that much but part of it was due to swelling and excess fluid from the cancer), but I have a long way to get to a much healthier me.
Love,Sherry

June 30th Update
I had my post op doctor visit today. First up was getting the drains taken out. If you ever have to have drains put in, take my advice and take a pain killer before you go. Not that it was painful, it just helps take the edge off. Nurse Rita ( I love this woman) first pulled the steri strips covering my stitches. That caused some grimacing because sometimes it would stick and pull on the stitches. She then snipped the stitches holding in the drain tubes. I asked her how much was stuck in my body and she said she would tell me after they were out. Ken said he couldn't be in there when they did this. It was just too hard, so the receptionist came in to hold my hand. It was ok with me that he couldn't do it. I understand. I don't think I could watch either. so Rita says she's going to pull both out at the same time. I needed to take a few deep breaths then hold one. It might burn for about 15 seconds. I breathed, held and it was over. No pain, no burning, just weird. She said she had one patient describe it like pulling snakes out of them. I get the analogy. That's just what it was like. About 6 to 7 inches of snake. I still have the stitches, they come out on the 7th. I'll make sure I save a pain pill.

On the plus side, she gave me a surgical bra to wear. I have polyester fluff where the breast used to be. I still look lopsided since I made the fake one the size I'd like to be. At least it's not flat on one side anymore. Plus I can go out in public now

Ken, then Dr. Stahl came in to go over the pathology report. Rita had given me a copy to look over while I waited. Most of it meant nothing to me but I did see the words extensive and carcinoma several times. The carcinoma I was expecting but the extensive was a little scary. Dr.Stahl even had a little drawing she made to help show me what was going on. She called my cancer Infiltrating Ductal Cancer-Imflamatory Type. The cancer had started in the milk ducts but had broken out of the ducts and into the vascular system. To quote some of the actual report : "Classic patterns of infiltrating carcinoma ... are not evident, the vast majority of tumor showing an intravascular pattern with a minor in situ component ." There was also some cancer found it the skin on my breast. This was due to it being found in the blood vessels. Just because it was found in the blood vessels doesn't mean it had spread but next week I have to go back to the hospital to have CT scans of my chest, abdomen and pelvis and also a bone scan. Only then will I know what stage I have. Right now, Dr. Stahl is calling it stage II. I don't know. When I look at some of the results, and compare it to some of the reference books, it seems a lot worse. I don't know. I've never read a pathology report before. Maybe I'm looking for the worst.

We also picked an oncologist for me to see. I had narrowed it down to 4 names that were in the group where my dad, brother and mom went. Wonder if they give a family discount? I picked Dr.Waterhouse. He specializes in breast cancer and also has done a lot of research on it. He had above average reviews on every website I checked and was voted a Top Doc by his peers in Cincinnati Magazine. He's also the doctor my dad was supposed to see but had an emergency so my dad ended up with Dr. Kirlin. I'm supposed to call him tomorrow to set up an appointment to discuss chemo options. I think I'll be in good hands.

Overall, I'm feeling pretty good. I usually let my hair air dry, so it's a little wild and curly. I'm still a little tired. Afternoon naps are a wonderful thing. Most of the soreness is gone but I often forget to not put weight on my left side when I get out of bed or off of my couch. I do think my coworkers are trying to fatten me up. I've had deliveries of cookies and pastas and fruit and a wonderful veggie salad. Thank you all. I'm trying to keep the containers together so I can send them back for refills. I'm a little bored but my son and husband fuss when I try to do some simple household chores such as putting laundry in or clean up after Buster (our 19 year old cat) gets sick. I don't mind handing that job over to them. I've a big stack of books from the library, another stack from my sister in law and a book store gift card to use, so that's something. Maybe a lawn chair on the deck and some sun would be nice.

till next week,
Love
Sherry

Surviving a Nuclear Meltdown-Update July 7, 2009
WARNING--May not be for those with a weak stomach.

I started out yesterday feeling really good. I had an appointment to have a bone density test and a ct scan. Part of it was for a baseline and part was to check to see if the cancer had spread to my bones or organs. For the ct scan, they give you this lovely concoction to drink. Berry smoothie flavor. Doesn't make it go down any easier. I drank this at home. Alex dropped me off at the hospital and I told him I would call him to pick me up once I was done.

First they took me back to one of the rooms with radioactive signs everywhere. Yes, for the bone scan, I had to be injected with a radioactive dye. And I thought I had a natural glow. It's not just a shot either. Mike, the nuclear medicine tech, gave me an IV port. Come back in 3 hours for the bone scan. They then took me back for the ct scan. You lie on this bed that has a big ring going around it. More berry smoothie to drink too. Besides the smoothie, they also have to inject me with some more iv fluid. As I was being hooked up to that, my iv needle came out. So they had to put another one in. Not fun. This fluid goes in a little cold plus the tech told me it might feel like I'm going to the bathroom but I'm not. She was right. It was a weird feeling. The scan itself was nothing. You move under the ring and hold your breath as it whirls around and pushes you out. It took me maybe 15 minutes.She took out the IV port.

I still had awhile before the bone scan so they told me to go eat lunch, drink lots of fluids, go home and come back if I wanted to. I didn't want Alex to keep driving back and forth so I just went to the cafeteria. I had a book with me. After perusing the choices, I settled on a ham sandwich and chips and some apple slices with a bottle of water. It wasn't bad. As I headed back to the lobby, I started feeling a little cold. Well it was a hospital and they do tend to keep the air on high. I was getting colder and colder so I went outside to see if I could warm up in the sun. That didn't last long as a woman came out right behind me and lit up a cigarette. I couldn't take the smoke so I went back inside. I started shivering and realized that this might be more than too much air conditioning. I went up to the reception desk and asked if this was a normal reaction to anything I had been injected with. She wasn't sure but would have someone come out to check on me. She would also bring me a heated blanket. These are the best things in the whole world. My shivering became worse. I was almost convulsing and I was starting to feel nauseous too. Mike, the nuclear tech came out to see me and was trying to calm me down. He didn't think it was a reaction to the IV he gave me but it might be from the contrast fluids for the ct scan. Then Terri ( I think that was her name) who did my ct scan came out. She said that the chills were a side effect of the contrast but they usually happened right when the fluid is injected. A delayed reaction could happen but was rare. By this time the nausea was worse and they had gotten me on a gurney and had me in the hallway by the radiology rooms. Then the vomiting began. It was violent. I felt like my whole stomach was coming up. And to make things even worse, the diarrhea began. So here I am, on a gurney, shivering, retching and pooping. Not a pretty picture. This went on for a good hour or so.

I seemed to calm down some so they decided to try and get the bone scan done. This machine was a little different from the ct machine. There was still a bed to lie on but instead of a whirling circle, a plate lowers down to just about 2 inches above you. The plate slowly moves down till it scans your whole body. The whole process takes about 20 minutes and you have to lie still. I'm lying there and the scan has begun. After what seemed like forever but turned out to be only a few minutes, I opened my eyes. The plate was still right over my face. The nausea started all over. I called for Samantha, the tech, to stop. The vomiting and diarrhea began again. I lied there on the table sobbing because it hurt so bad and I was leaving such a mess. Sam kept telling me it was alright. I lied there for awhile. Any movement started the cycle over. The doctor from radiology came in to talk to me. They were worried and needed to get things under control. They were going to send me to the emergency room to be checked out. The only thing was that the ER was full and they had no beds. They wanted me to come over in a wheelchair and sit in the ER waiting room til a bed was available.

I couldn't hardly bare to think about it. I tried to sit up to move to the wheelchair but the vomiting began again. There was no way I could sit up. I begged them to let me go on the gurney. Once I was on the gurney, I curled up in a ball and closed my eyes. It was the only thing I could do to abate the nausea. I was still cold but not shivering anymore. I must have had 4 blankets on me. I could tell they were rolling me through the halls and I must have ended up in the ER waiting room as I could here people talking and the TV blaring. I wasn't opening my eyes to find out. I don't think I was there very long. A smelly woman on a gurney is not something they wanted in their waiting room. I just wanted to go home and curl up in my bed.

I was pushed back to one of the cubicles. I could hear people talking around me. Someone said "I thought they were sending her in a wheelchair." "What's the story? Why did nuclear send her over here?" I could here various people filling in bits of my story. They finally started asking me questions. I answered without opening my eyes. I was afraid to move. I finally sat up. I still had some nausea but the vomiting had moved to dry heaves. They wanted to get fluids in me. That meant the third IV port for the day. This was not fun. My veins do not run near the skin surface and they always have a hard time when I need a blood draw. They were running out of places on my arm. Because of the mastectomy, I can only use my right arm for blood tests and blood pressure for awhile. It hurt this time. The nurse used the iv port to take blood draws and that was painful.

They started an iv of saline to replace the fluids I lost . It felt cold going through me. My right arm felt frozen. There were lots of people coming in an out, asking me questions, taking vitals. I was there alone. I asked the nurse to call Ken. The hustle and bustle finally slowed down and I just layed there and tried not to move. Ken came in and I think I started to sobbing again. This has been as hard on him as it has me. Dr. Wall finally came in to talk to me. She was a tiny little woman but I got the feeling she could be tough. Even though she thought I was having a reaction to the contrast fluid, she wanted to make sure there wasn't something else going on. So they were going to run some tests.

This meant another round of blood tests. They wanted more to run the second round of tests ordered by Dr. Wall. The technician came in and started looking for another place on my right arm to try and get some blood. Another painful draw. A nurse wanted to know if I thought I could make it to the bathroom for a urine sample. The nausea was just a low growl by now. Back from the bathroom, I just crawled back into the bed and curled up. A nurse came in to hook up another IV bag. The blood tests showed that my potassium levels were low. I usually drink about 12 ounces of orange juice five days a week. I do this to offset one of the side effects of one of my blood pressure medicines. Well, I hadn't been drinking any since my surgery. I told the nurse that was probably what caused the low potassium.

Nuclear medicine called and wanted me to come back and complete the bone scan. I already had the tracer in me. If I didn't do it then, I would have to come back because I needed to have it done. I wasn't sure if I could do it or not. I was afraid of getting sick again and I was also afraid it was too claustrophobic. But I didn't want to have to come back so I consented.

The lovely Samantha was still there and I thanked her for taking such good care of me earlier. But this time, my man Dan was going to be in charge of the scan this time. I asked him how long the plate would be over my face. He said about 7-9 minutes. I asked him if he could let me know when it was past my face. I layed on the table and closed my eyes. As I heard the scan start, I started singing songs in my head. First it was show tunes from Godspell and Jesus Christ Superstar. I then moved on to the Fifth Dimension. Aquarius and Up, Up and Away. I was startled out of my one woman show when Dan let me know that the scanner was passed my head. I opened my eyes and could see that it was over my chest. He reminded me that I needed to remain still, so I continued the concert in my head with Christmas songs.

Finished with the scan, I climbed back on my gurney to wait for the trip back to the ER. The IV pump started beeping. The saline bag was empty, so Dan stopped the part of the pump for the saline. The potassium was dripping. I was waiting in the hall for transport when my hand started burning. It was becoming more intense. I called for Dan. I didn't think I could stand it anymore. I was thinking that something was wrong, and the pump was going to push air in my veins and kill me. I wanted to pull the needle out of my hand. Dan wasn't sure what was wrong but he clamped off the IV and the pain subsided almost immediately. He said he would let my ER nurse know about this.

Back in the ER, the nurse came in with a new saline bag. Apparently I had suffered potassium burn. It is very hard to tolerate a straight potassium drip which is why it is usually administered with saline. The only thing was that the IV line was filled with potassium and I would have to suffer for a few minutes until the saline was able to flush through the line. One of the longest 5 minutes in my life. I was crying, it hurt so much. I hope no one else ever has to suffer through it.

Dr. Wall came back in. My tests didn't show anything abnormal. No infections were found. As soon as I finished getting the potassium, I could go home. Ken and I started watching the drip bags. The saline was dripping faster than the potassium. I didn't want to have to go through the burn again, so as soon as the saline was near the end, I called the nurse to replace it. After about an hour, it was done. I just wanted to go home and have some crackers and go to bed. It was 7 o'clock.

The worst of the day was over. I felt completely drained. But I was about to get some good news. Dr.Stahl called me at 8:30 with the results of the CT scan. There was some abnormalities in the lymph nodes which we suspected but she was unable to remove during surgery because of my blood loss. The chemo should take care of them. It looked like there were some cysts on my liver,one of my kidneys, and my right ovary. An ultrasound would reveal more, but she was sure that they were nothing to worry about. She didn't have the bone scan results yet, but so far good news, it doesn't look like the cancer has spread. I told her about my adventures at the hospital. She said I could never take the contrast again. She thought it could be fatal. She told me to not come in the next day to get my stitches out because I would need the day to rest.

So that's what I've been doing today. Resting and writing this blog. It felt like a bad hangover this morning. The dehydration from the vomiting and diarrhea. I had hoped to go to Scouts tonight but I don't think that is going to happen. Rita, my favorite nurse from Dr. Stahl's office, called me with my bone scan results. It was all clear. Another victory in my fight against this disease. I meet my oncologist tomorrow to plot the next step in my treatment.

Til next week--
Love,Sherry