'Although I am an optimist by nature, I decided not to make a New Year wish this year. The last three years have been so unpredictable that I decided not to tempt fate. 'Let it be', is my current motto. I am taking things one day at a time (REALLY) and stopped worrying about what happens tomorrow. That doesn't mean that I have opted out of life, but it's simply an acceptance of the fact that, at the moment, I can do very little proactively, and it's OK.
These past two months have taken a toll on me. It got so bad that I was actually using a walking stick in my tiny apartment. That awfulness has passed and I can now get up from a chair like normal, without having to hang onto something.'
The good news is that I can now walk without a cane when I am not tired. The bad news is that this Caelyx has a very nasty side effect. About two weeks after the treatment in December, I started to get really tired, and noticed that when I moved too quickly I had to catch my breath. As it got worse, I went to my family doctor, who determined that my haemoglobin was very low, which is why I was tired and had difficulty breathing.
By the time I made it to my appointment with the Professor on 21 January, things got really bad. I was close to becoming a cripple again. JK, a lovely acquaintance drove me to the hospital and took copious notes, so that I could tell my son exactly what was said:
From all the tests that were taken during the past months: the haemoglobin count is way down, heart looks fine. That means that the fatigue and breathlessness is from the depressed haemoglobin level, which is from the chemo. There is a small amount of cancer in the bones, but in the latest tests the calcium level is normal, which means that the cancer in the bones 'has been hit on the head.' He plans three cycles with the Caelyx and then 'we'll see if you are getting better'. He said my plan to move back to the US around July is 'a realistic expectation.'
So much for the notes. Two days after this visit I had my next chemo, which was preceded by an infusion of two units of blood. Now, it takes two hours for one unit of blood to course through the veins, so you can imagine I spent a long time in the hospital - 8 hours to be exact. I was really lucky that my friend Eva took me home, so I didn't have to struggle by myself.
The next day I felt fit as a fiddle. I was in the 'steroid high' of chemotherapy and felt no pain. I had energy and could breathe! The day after the energy was gone and I had the normal post-chemo week, which is interrupted sleep, energy fluctuation and an inability to focus or concentrate on anything.
I've said before that my motto for unpleasant things is: 'this too shall pass'. Well, this did too and I was luxuriating in my ability to breathe freely and walk a kilometre, some of it without a cane. My garden is thriving and I've been able to make several meetings for my community organising project. Life was getting back to normal. Well, not quite.
Today is already the 7th of February. I am just moving into the third week of this chemo cycle. It started slowly a few days ago, but yesterday I had a real problem breathing a couple of times. So, I am assuming that my haemoglobin count is low again. I am vey tired this morning, and my ribs on my right side are painful. I have 'brittle bones' in my ribs from my very first radiation treatment and have had two hairline fractures there in the past 8 years. I am hoping that this is not a repeat of that. I am hoping that it's just age-related arthritis as we move into Autumn here in the Southern Hemisphere. I was observing the fatigue as I lay motionless and brainless on my bed. It has a distinctly different quality. It feels like my bed is the perfect place for me to be and it won't let me move, it feels so quiet, and pain free if I stay completely still. My mind is still. Why would I want to move? I could stay like that forever. It's a kind of stupor. At first it's comfortable, but when you realise what's going on, life instinct kicks in and you want to get out of there and get on with the day. Ouch! Movement is painful! But, what is the alternative? Where is that painkiller. Let's get the day started. I have a lot to do.
The good news is that I can now walk without a cane when I am not tired. The bad news is that this Caelyx has a very nasty side effect. About two weeks after the treatment in December, I started to get really tired, and noticed that when I moved too quickly I had to catch my breath. As it got worse, I went to my family doctor, who determined that my haemoglobin was very low, which is why I was tired and had difficulty breathing.
By the time I made it to my appointment with the Professor on 21 January, things got really bad. I was close to becoming a cripple again. JK, a lovely acquaintance drove me to the hospital and took copious notes, so that I could tell my son exactly what was said:
From all the tests that were taken during the past months: the haemoglobin count is way down, heart looks fine. That means that the fatigue and breathlessness is from the depressed haemoglobin level, which is from the chemo. There is a small amount of cancer in the bones, but in the latest tests the calcium level is normal, which means that the cancer in the bones 'has been hit on the head.' He plans three cycles with the Caelyx and then 'we'll see if you are getting better'. He said my plan to move back to the US around July is 'a realistic expectation.'
So much for the notes. Two days after this visit I had my next chemo, which was preceded by an infusion of two units of blood. Now, it takes two hours for one unit of blood to course through the veins, so you can imagine I spent a long time in the hospital - 8 hours to be exact. I was really lucky that my friend Eva took me home, so I didn't have to struggle by myself.
The next day I felt fit as a fiddle. I was in the 'steroid high' of chemotherapy and felt no pain. I had energy and could breathe! The day after the energy was gone and I had the normal post-chemo week, which is interrupted sleep, energy fluctuation and an inability to focus or concentrate on anything.
I've said before that my motto for unpleasant things is: 'this too shall pass'. Well, this did too and I was luxuriating in my ability to breathe freely and walk a kilometre, some of it without a cane. My garden is thriving and I've been able to make several meetings for my community organising project. Life was getting back to normal. Well, not quite.
Today is already the 7th of February. I am just moving into the third week of this chemo cycle. It started slowly a few days ago, but yesterday I had a real problem breathing a couple of times. So, I am assuming that my haemoglobin count is low again. I am vey tired this morning, and my ribs on my right side are painful. I have 'brittle bones' in my ribs from my very first radiation treatment and have had two hairline fractures there in the past 8 years. I am hoping that this is not a repeat of that. I am hoping that it's just age-related arthritis as we move into Autumn here in the Southern Hemisphere. I was observing the fatigue as I lay motionless and brainless on my bed. It has a distinctly different quality. It feels like my bed is the perfect place for me to be and it won't let me move, it feels so quiet, and pain free if I stay completely still. My mind is still. Why would I want to move? I could stay like that forever. It's a kind of stupor. At first it's comfortable, but when you realise what's going on, life instinct kicks in and you want to get out of there and get on with the day. Ouch! Movement is painful! But, what is the alternative? Where is that painkiller. Let's get the day started. I have a lot to do.
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