NO MORE CHEMO FOR TWO MONTHS!
That's the good news. The not so good news is that I am not in remission and, most probably, the chemo monster will now be my friend for life. In other words, my metastatic breast cancer is now under control and can be regarded as a chronic disease. I can look forward to having periods of chemo therapy for the rest of my days.
Well, I hope not, but it's a very likely scenario that I just have to get my head around. The possibility of this being the case dawned on me last month and, after a good cry, I had a session with Angela, my cancer counsellor, who informed me that it's a possibility, but she has patients who have been living happily like that for over a decade, so I calmed down. I have had a chronic disease with my adrenals since 1985, so what's another one. Piece of cake! I don't think so!.
In any case, that's the way the situation is at the moment, and I decided to go with the flow and get on with my life. I need to get my energy back, then get back to work and make some money. I haven't been able to do that all year, but am getting freelance work now.
So....
Reassessing my life...
We are going into summer here in Australia and, just like in Europe over July-August, everything pretty much stops after mid-December until the end of January. People take their holidays and business slows. My temping job definitely stops, as do sources of freelance work. I am very lucky to have just been given an editing assignment with an end-of-January deadline. And I have to see the Professor again around that time. How sweet is that?
So the plan is to finish my essay that I am currently writing for a competition. It's a labour of love about the treatment of asylum seekers by the Australian government, but the first prize is good money, so I am aiming for that (aren't we all?). The deadline for the essay is December 2. When I am done with that, I am going to have a well earned break and visit a friend on the Gold Coast. I love traveling by train, so I may indulge myself. Rail travel is also preferable to airplanes because of the compression sleeves you have to wear in planes to avoid lymphedema, and compression sox to avoid deep vein thrombosis (DVT). Actually, one of the things on my bucket list is to travel on the Gan and see more of Australia.
When I come home from my well deserved rest, I will sit down and reassess my situation. I am already planning to reinvent myself as a freelance writer and am getting excited about the prospect. I have a couple of projects planned already.
Regarding my mental health, I am hoping that I can transition smoothly from yearning to go into remission to getting on with reality and adapting myself to living with cancer as a chronic disease.
2014 should be an interesting year.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Sunday, November 10, 2013
In the swim
I went swimming today for the first time since January, when I swam at dawn at Shark Bay in Nielsen Park, on Sydney Harbour. It was magic, but I was already so sick that when I swam I was pretty much done for the day.Today was different. I swam at my local pool, the Annette Kellerman Acquatic centre in Marrickville. It's not as picturesque as Nielsen Park, but it's close and, with its gym and personal trainer, it has all the facilities I need to get my strength back.
I've been going to the gym for the past month or two when I was in the 'off chemo' part of the cycles, but I didn't dare to go into the pool for fear of infection from all the kiddies and who knows what else. Now that I am feeling better and believe that I am at the end of my chemo treatment (keeping fingers crossed), I thought I'd give it a go. I used to be a very strong swimmer and used to swim daily before work when my son was small, so beginning this week I am revisiting the old routine and plan to get up early to be at the Aquatic Centre by 6am. The plan is to go six days a week, alternating between the gym and the pool. In the old days I used to feel energised for the rest of the day. I want to get back to that feeling. Right now, I feel energised, but also tired, so we shall see.
Getting off the chemo is always a tricky business. When I am on chemo I know that at certain times of the day I will be knocked off my feet and need to plan my activities around that. During the 'off period' however, I immediately feel liberated, but my energy level and brain capacity is actually low for a couple of days and it's very tempting to do too much. It's difficult to find a balance between doing too little or too much.
One of the most frustrating thing in getting back to the gym is the peritoneal port I have had implanted in my abdomen for draining the ascites. Normally, I don't feel it and often forget it's in there, and remember only when I have my shower and feel the hard bump where it's located. Getting back to the gym, however, I quickly realised that there are certain exercises I can't do until my muscle tone returns, because the port seems to be causing pain and discomfort. Talk about difficulties in finding a balance. When I asked the Professor what types of exercises to avoid, he looked at me like I was an idiot and said firmly: EXPERIMENT! So, I am experimenting even in the pool which strokes would irritate the thing and which not. As my ascites is so much better, I was hoping to get rid of the thing, but I was told it will stay in as long as needed and was reassured that it can stay in safely for 20 years! May I live so long!
Anyway, the ugly truth is that it may need to stay in as long. As of the last blood test I still don't know whether I will go into remission or if the chemo will just hold the cancer in check. I will have to have that chat with the professor at our next meeting in two weeks.
In the meantime, I am getting into the last stage of writing an essay for a competition, so I am doing everything I can to stay strong and focused. Going to the gym and keeping up my body and brain exercises is geared to that end. Aside from the considerable first prize purse, I need the to know that I can still complete complex writing assignments as I need to reinvent myself (yet again) to be able to make a living. I have many alternative plans, but for now the priority is to maintain health and finish the essay.
I've been working on a longer blog entry about chemo side effects and how to deal with them. I called it The Gross Report, but I found that I really don't want to revisit that now as I move into this last stage of writing. I need to look forward, not backward. Nevertheless, I will finish it sometime so, if you have any difficult side effects you learned to manage positively, please let me know so I can include it.
Saturday, October 5, 2013
The importance of routine
I haven't written for a while, because I've been really busy and preoccupied. After almost a year of not being able to work, I had a call in early August by an old customer if I would write two articles by the end of September - one 500 and the other 2500 words long. I said yes without hesitation. It was only after I've put the phone down that I asked myself: how the..... am I going to do this?
I can't remember if I already explained that I am a writer. I started in 1970, as a Hungarian language broadcaster at the Voice of America in Washington DC, then trained as an English features and documentary writer and moved into various other positions until, in 1987, I ended up as VOA's senior medical writer and worked in that position until I migrated to Australia in 1991 (way back in history, I was a would be bacteriologist, so I had some credentials). Since then, I've been a freelance science/medical/industrial/consumer magazine writer and magazine editor. In 2002, I went back to my first love, writing film documentaries, screenplays, short stories and short dramas for the stage. None of these have borne much fruit, but not for want of trying. I continued to freelance and also had (still have) an office temping job for when there's a dry season in freelancing. Then, in 2006, the cancer bug hit and the rest is Boobs Blues history.
So, having caught up on my background, let's get back to the subject at hand. Here I am, sitting next to the phone, wondering how I was going to write 3000 words in about six weeks, with a 4-week chemo cycle (during which I will be 'brainless' for two weeks) and not being able to drive long distances to do interviews. This is where years' of the habitual routine of being a journalist kicked in.
First of all, I took stock of what I was doing (besides the cancer treatment). At that time I was just gearing up to take a Massive Open Online Course (MOOC) in Data Driven Journalism offered by the Knight Centre for Journalism in the Americas at the University of Texas in Austin. I knew nothing about the subject, but was hoping it would help me organise the data I was collecting for an essay on asylum seekers that I began to work on for a competition from the day Prime Minister Kevin Rudd announced his PNG Policy. This new policy would send asylum seekers coming to Australia by boat to Papua New Guinea for processing. It's a very controversial subject that I won't go into here, just to say that I totally oppose it.
So, here I was submerged in two projects already when the phone call came. Which to drop? The essay went on the back-burner, except for keeping track of media reports. That was doable with a quick, daily internet search. However, after the first two weeks I dropped the MOOC course as well, but did save all the class notes and discussions for later use.
In the meantime, I scheduled interviews by phone for the two weeks off of my chemo cycle, which was the two weeks after the call came in. As a former radio reporter I am in the habit of recording all my interviews, so this was no exception. I made two recordings of each - one with the iProRecorder app on my iPad and one with the internal mike on my Macbook Pro - in case one got fouled up, as I had no window of opportunity to redo interviews. I transcribed the interviews during the 'brainless' two weeks when I had no energy to think, just do routine tasks. I delivered the 500 word article the day before the next chemo cycle and repeated the routine during the second. When interviews I was hoping for did not materialise, I did not panic, just did more readings. When the brain didn't work, I rested and relied on my knowledge of how long it would take me to write 2500 words in the shortest time. I estimated two days. At the end I did it and submitted the article on the day of my next chemo, but it was really pushing it. Had I not had the experience, I would not have been able to do it.
So, why am I going into such detail? Because I am hoping to be helpful to others who may be in a similar situation. One of the hardest things for me is to find a happy medium between doing too much or too little. Having no full-time employment doesn't help. I have to keep to long-established routines that need self motivation. How can you be motivated when your eyes are blurry, your head is spinning as you stand up, and you wobble when you walk from your bed to your computer desk? Not to mention the nausea pills, double vision, etc.
Journalists keep daily notebooks on what they do and think, writers do the same for ideas and notes. I modified this by writing down every day certain aspects of the treatment (pills taken, side effects, etc) and organising a To Do list at the end of every day. This includes everything, not just 'work'. During the day, when I can't remember what I did two hours before, I check the list and see if it has been ticked off. Routine.
If I have some ideas, these also go in the notebook, whose pages I number. I create a Content page at the end of the book. I do this by sitting down at the end of every week to see what are the important things I have to remember from all these notes and put them down next to the page number. This way, when I want to see what I noted during the article research, it's right there and I don't have to flick through every page.
As I write this, I have four more days of taking cyclophosphamide pills in this current chemo cycle, which has been particularly tough. I haven't been feeling well at all. Finishing that long article seems years away already. For the past two days I've been a TV couch potato, watching 5 episodes of Beauty and the Beast each day. It made me forget the discomfort of my body. Today, the body is better and I watched only one episode, which I found too much. It's not going to be a favourite show, it seems. Amazing how one's taste changes with being ill. But it served it purpose and now that I am coming towards the end of these hard two weeks, I look forward to the next two when my brain will be working and I can power ahead with my 3000+ word essay. Relying on my proven routines, I am sure I will make the deadline, which is two months away. I can hardly wait.
I can't remember if I already explained that I am a writer. I started in 1970, as a Hungarian language broadcaster at the Voice of America in Washington DC, then trained as an English features and documentary writer and moved into various other positions until, in 1987, I ended up as VOA's senior medical writer and worked in that position until I migrated to Australia in 1991 (way back in history, I was a would be bacteriologist, so I had some credentials). Since then, I've been a freelance science/medical/industrial/consumer magazine writer and magazine editor. In 2002, I went back to my first love, writing film documentaries, screenplays, short stories and short dramas for the stage. None of these have borne much fruit, but not for want of trying. I continued to freelance and also had (still have) an office temping job for when there's a dry season in freelancing. Then, in 2006, the cancer bug hit and the rest is Boobs Blues history.
So, having caught up on my background, let's get back to the subject at hand. Here I am, sitting next to the phone, wondering how I was going to write 3000 words in about six weeks, with a 4-week chemo cycle (during which I will be 'brainless' for two weeks) and not being able to drive long distances to do interviews. This is where years' of the habitual routine of being a journalist kicked in.
First of all, I took stock of what I was doing (besides the cancer treatment). At that time I was just gearing up to take a Massive Open Online Course (MOOC) in Data Driven Journalism offered by the Knight Centre for Journalism in the Americas at the University of Texas in Austin. I knew nothing about the subject, but was hoping it would help me organise the data I was collecting for an essay on asylum seekers that I began to work on for a competition from the day Prime Minister Kevin Rudd announced his PNG Policy. This new policy would send asylum seekers coming to Australia by boat to Papua New Guinea for processing. It's a very controversial subject that I won't go into here, just to say that I totally oppose it.
So, here I was submerged in two projects already when the phone call came. Which to drop? The essay went on the back-burner, except for keeping track of media reports. That was doable with a quick, daily internet search. However, after the first two weeks I dropped the MOOC course as well, but did save all the class notes and discussions for later use.
In the meantime, I scheduled interviews by phone for the two weeks off of my chemo cycle, which was the two weeks after the call came in. As a former radio reporter I am in the habit of recording all my interviews, so this was no exception. I made two recordings of each - one with the iProRecorder app on my iPad and one with the internal mike on my Macbook Pro - in case one got fouled up, as I had no window of opportunity to redo interviews. I transcribed the interviews during the 'brainless' two weeks when I had no energy to think, just do routine tasks. I delivered the 500 word article the day before the next chemo cycle and repeated the routine during the second. When interviews I was hoping for did not materialise, I did not panic, just did more readings. When the brain didn't work, I rested and relied on my knowledge of how long it would take me to write 2500 words in the shortest time. I estimated two days. At the end I did it and submitted the article on the day of my next chemo, but it was really pushing it. Had I not had the experience, I would not have been able to do it.
So, why am I going into such detail? Because I am hoping to be helpful to others who may be in a similar situation. One of the hardest things for me is to find a happy medium between doing too much or too little. Having no full-time employment doesn't help. I have to keep to long-established routines that need self motivation. How can you be motivated when your eyes are blurry, your head is spinning as you stand up, and you wobble when you walk from your bed to your computer desk? Not to mention the nausea pills, double vision, etc.
Journalists keep daily notebooks on what they do and think, writers do the same for ideas and notes. I modified this by writing down every day certain aspects of the treatment (pills taken, side effects, etc) and organising a To Do list at the end of every day. This includes everything, not just 'work'. During the day, when I can't remember what I did two hours before, I check the list and see if it has been ticked off. Routine.
If I have some ideas, these also go in the notebook, whose pages I number. I create a Content page at the end of the book. I do this by sitting down at the end of every week to see what are the important things I have to remember from all these notes and put them down next to the page number. This way, when I want to see what I noted during the article research, it's right there and I don't have to flick through every page.
As I write this, I have four more days of taking cyclophosphamide pills in this current chemo cycle, which has been particularly tough. I haven't been feeling well at all. Finishing that long article seems years away already. For the past two days I've been a TV couch potato, watching 5 episodes of Beauty and the Beast each day. It made me forget the discomfort of my body. Today, the body is better and I watched only one episode, which I found too much. It's not going to be a favourite show, it seems. Amazing how one's taste changes with being ill. But it served it purpose and now that I am coming towards the end of these hard two weeks, I look forward to the next two when my brain will be working and I can power ahead with my 3000+ word essay. Relying on my proven routines, I am sure I will make the deadline, which is two months away. I can hardly wait.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
One step forward, one step back
It's been a very strange day. The last day of this particular two week chemo cycle, which was rougher than the last one. My eyes were a real worry. I noticed that my vision got worse just after I took the cyclophosphamide pills. It was hard to focus without the eye-patch for much of the day. So, I did a little research. I googled both the cyclophosphamide and the 5FU. I seemed to recall both had visual disturbance as a side effect.
What would we do without Google?
Well. we could turn to ask.com.
I guess there isn't much difference between them, because both came up with the same answer for 5FU - 11.5% people treated with it reported blurred vision.
Another study on cyclophosphamide found that after 1-6months of treatment 31.58% of people taking cyclophosphamide suffered some form of medium blurred vision, including those who were also treated with methotrexate.
OK, I am not going to go into the statistics, because that's my weakest subject, but the point is that, even with my limited knowledge it's plain to see that the blurring of my vision is the result of taking the chemotherapy drugs.
Naturally,there are other side effects as well. Today, I had a body-full of those too. About a half hour after taking the pills my body became very heavy and I simply could not keep my eyes open. In the morning, I had plans for working on my assignment, but that was not to be. Not until the late afternoon, when the cyclophosphamide was supposed to have cleared for the day (4-5 hours, according some of the information I've read). Within a short time I was fast asleep and woke up around 2-3 hours later. Well, that's half the day gone, right there.
Then, my eyes wouldn't focus and my head was mush. I couldn't concentrate on anything. So, I gave in and played games on my iPad. What a waste of time. But hey, if my body wants to rest, why not put on the music and let the games begin! Tomorrow is another day and I will not have to take those damn pills for two weeks! Halleluyah!
What would we do without Google?
Well. we could turn to ask.com.
I guess there isn't much difference between them, because both came up with the same answer for 5FU - 11.5% people treated with it reported blurred vision.
Another study on cyclophosphamide found that after 1-6months of treatment 31.58% of people taking cyclophosphamide suffered some form of medium blurred vision, including those who were also treated with methotrexate.
OK, I am not going to go into the statistics, because that's my weakest subject, but the point is that, even with my limited knowledge it's plain to see that the blurring of my vision is the result of taking the chemotherapy drugs.
Naturally,there are other side effects as well. Today, I had a body-full of those too. About a half hour after taking the pills my body became very heavy and I simply could not keep my eyes open. In the morning, I had plans for working on my assignment, but that was not to be. Not until the late afternoon, when the cyclophosphamide was supposed to have cleared for the day (4-5 hours, according some of the information I've read). Within a short time I was fast asleep and woke up around 2-3 hours later. Well, that's half the day gone, right there.
Then, my eyes wouldn't focus and my head was mush. I couldn't concentrate on anything. So, I gave in and played games on my iPad. What a waste of time. But hey, if my body wants to rest, why not put on the music and let the games begin! Tomorrow is another day and I will not have to take those damn pills for two weeks! Halleluyah!
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Energy blues
Conserving energy has been one of the least mentioned subjects during this cancer treatment and now that I am getting better, I push the boundaries of what is feasible. Today was no exception.
It's been almost a week from the last intravenous chemo and I have pretty much worked out that my energy seems OK in the morning and after 4-5pm when I take the chemo tablets. So, yesterday I made arrangements to have some of my things brought home from storage and downsize the storage unit I rent until I find a friend with a large garage and/or get rid of the stuff I still have stored. The man said he would meet me there 8am sharp.
I got there a bit early and went through the boxes to see what I want taken home. The man was a bit late and I had time to peruse at my leisure. And when he arrived, he was charming, he was energetic, he was the exact opposite of how I was feeling. A breath of fresh air. 'No worries' - says he and starts to lift the heavy boxes. Me, I am wilting. My head is woozy and I start to worry how I am going to drive home. I realised I should have asked someone to come with me. I start to dial and message strong men - young and old - who may be around to help. Nope. Only answering machines. What to do? I leave the young man to do his thing and sit down in the office. Waiting. Waiting for what?
The mobile rings. My rescuer. My knight in shining armour for today. By this time I am ready to throw everything out and when the young man says he can take things to recycle, I just wave a royal wave. Do it! It's only later I discover I waved away a few things I wanted to keep. Mea Culpa.
We make it home safe, I pay, my knights leave. I crash on the bed. My phone starts ringing. My brother in Florida. Can you Skype? My mobile phone buzzes a message. Mom, can you Skype? No guys, I am pooped. I can't move. Don't bother me. I take my cyclophosphamide pills and wish I could go to sleep. No way. My brain is alive, my body is walkabout.
It's 2pm now (4hours later) and I wonder if there's anything on the internet about how to conserve your energy while you are undergoing chemotherapy. Sure there is. Platitudes. 'Save your energy, conserve your energy'. But how? I can't just sit around doing nothing. And nobody seems to be expanding on the 'how?' Or at least I couldn't find anything.
Well, there are ways. Get your family and friends surround you with love and attention. If nobody is physically there, call them, email them, tweet them. They would love to hear from you - either to entertain you while you are comfortably wilting on your bed, or to offer to come around and make you some tea or coffee. Only accept personal appearance from people you know well, for whom you don't have to put on an act and with whom you are comfortable just being quiet or reading side by side, or watching TV. The others take up too much energy.
What else? We are having an election campaign here in Australia. It's deafeningly boring, or rather disheartening. There's not much difference between the major parties, both have some outstandingly stupid policies. I won't say no more. We have compulsory voting here, so we have to vote. A conundrum. So, for the past week I have deliberately not watched the news, just caught up once a day on the web. Big conservation of energy!
Best of all, have fun. Watch funny movies and laugh a lot with your loved ones. Even if it's just about your cancer. Big easing of tensions and worry all around. Since my son lives overseas, one of my solutions is to txt him, especially at night when everyone around me is asleep, that I am feeling down and need a joke. I have to say that I get some doozies. During daytime, I've been know to call friends with the same request and we end up with big guffaws. Yes, there's laughter in cancer. It's the best way to conserve energy, the best medicine of all (and if you really want to laugh, read this medical description of what 'humour therapy' can do for you)!
Well, there are ways. Get your family and friends surround you with love and attention. If nobody is physically there, call them, email them, tweet them. They would love to hear from you - either to entertain you while you are comfortably wilting on your bed, or to offer to come around and make you some tea or coffee. Only accept personal appearance from people you know well, for whom you don't have to put on an act and with whom you are comfortable just being quiet or reading side by side, or watching TV. The others take up too much energy.
What else? We are having an election campaign here in Australia. It's deafeningly boring, or rather disheartening. There's not much difference between the major parties, both have some outstandingly stupid policies. I won't say no more. We have compulsory voting here, so we have to vote. A conundrum. So, for the past week I have deliberately not watched the news, just caught up once a day on the web. Big conservation of energy!
Best of all, have fun. Watch funny movies and laugh a lot with your loved ones. Even if it's just about your cancer. Big easing of tensions and worry all around. Since my son lives overseas, one of my solutions is to txt him, especially at night when everyone around me is asleep, that I am feeling down and need a joke. I have to say that I get some doozies. During daytime, I've been know to call friends with the same request and we end up with big guffaws. Yes, there's laughter in cancer. It's the best way to conserve energy, the best medicine of all (and if you really want to laugh, read this medical description of what 'humour therapy' can do for you)!
Friday, August 30, 2013
Dark after light
Didn't have to wait long to see how things go this time. It's the next day from the previous post and I am crashing - hard. Had a sleepless night last night. Was up two hours without being able to go back to sleep. That's from the steroids they pump into you with the inravenous methotrexate and 5 FU.
Now, I am having problems. My eyes are blurred, I am dizzy and my mouth is burning from the cyclophosphamide pills. That will go soon, I know from experience, but I am not sure how long I'll have to fight the dizziness. I find that if I focus on mental things then somehow the physical hardship is more bearable. I don't want to sleep during the day, because I don't want to lose total control of my day. Of course, I may have to. I'll just wait and see. For now, I'll try and do my classwork before friends drop by...
Forget the class work. It's 4-5 hours later. My friends have come and gone and I had a chat with another one on the phone. I thought I was ready to take a nap, but no. I can't get settled - on or off the bed. I have to keep moving, but doing what? My body is shaking internally and I am not balanced. I am worried I might fall over if I go for a walk....
I had a lovely, light lunch. Body seems a bit better. Head still fuzzy. Maybe watch some TV or listen to music? Very listless, jittery. A chemo frenzy? Been there before. It will pass.
It's quite amazing how fast one forgets the unpleasantness of chemotherapy. Maybe just as well. Maybe the body is programmed to recover and that's how people going through major physical and psychological traumas can actually recover and lead productive lives. My mind wonders. Time to rest. The body will take care of itself.
Now, I am having problems. My eyes are blurred, I am dizzy and my mouth is burning from the cyclophosphamide pills. That will go soon, I know from experience, but I am not sure how long I'll have to fight the dizziness. I find that if I focus on mental things then somehow the physical hardship is more bearable. I don't want to sleep during the day, because I don't want to lose total control of my day. Of course, I may have to. I'll just wait and see. For now, I'll try and do my classwork before friends drop by...
Forget the class work. It's 4-5 hours later. My friends have come and gone and I had a chat with another one on the phone. I thought I was ready to take a nap, but no. I can't get settled - on or off the bed. I have to keep moving, but doing what? My body is shaking internally and I am not balanced. I am worried I might fall over if I go for a walk....
I had a lovely, light lunch. Body seems a bit better. Head still fuzzy. Maybe watch some TV or listen to music? Very listless, jittery. A chemo frenzy? Been there before. It will pass.
It's quite amazing how fast one forgets the unpleasantness of chemotherapy. Maybe just as well. Maybe the body is programmed to recover and that's how people going through major physical and psychological traumas can actually recover and lead productive lives. My mind wonders. Time to rest. The body will take care of itself.
Taking it in stride
This was a good week. I was feeling well and focused on my writing. I finished the web story on deadline and delivered it Wednesday morning, before the start of THE BIG DAY – my appointment with the Professor.
The Professor looked dapper and suntanned after his sporting holiday in Italy and he had good news for me. My cancer markers are down, which means that the treatment is working. My white blood cells are back to normal, so we can have treatment. And, last but not least, all my various organs, like liver and kidney, are working fine. Phew! It was good to hear. But then, there was a down side.
I am not out of the woods yet and the Professor could not tell me how long I have to have chemo treatment, which has been adjusted to my current status. Instead of a three week cycle, we now have a four week cycle. Two weeks on, two weeks off . This will go on until I leave for a planned, six week vacation with my family in the US in November. On my return, there will be a reassessment and we shall see.
So, the way I see it, at present my best option is to settle in for the long haul and treat this as a quasi chronic disease and get on with my life. The question that remains is how to do that.
Until now, I had the philosophy of taking one day at a time. I had incredible emergency help from my family, community and government services. This can't go on forever, so I have to plan to re-enter my normal life and earn some money. My current assignments are a good measure whether I am physically and mentally ready to do that.
So far, so good. Yesterday, the day after the intravenous chemo, I was pretty groggy and, even with my wonderful helper, Shoko, I could only get to my local supermarket for a few groceries. Today, however, I was quite all right. I mean, better. I went for a walk and was still dizzy, and my eyesight has been shoking today, but my head is clear and the dreaded chemobrain is still at bay (I do my brain exercises every morning in the hope that the dreaded fog will never rise this time).
Another thing I started to do is to organise my exercise regimen. On Monday, I went to the gym and got assessed for gentle strengthening exercises. I am going to see if I can go back this weekend, or latest Monday.
Everything at the moment is trial and error. I don't know what my abilities and limitations are for the two weeks of chemo treatment. That is the next lesson to learn during this particular cycle.
And talking about learning. The only thing that suffered this week was my studies. I have only done about the third of the assignments, if that. Tomorrow I'll focus on catching up and see if I can make up what I've missed so far. In order to get a certificate, I have to pass a quiz each week. So far I got 80% and 90% for the first two weeks respectively. Now we are getting to the end of the third week and I have two more to go. Let's see what I can do. If I make it, I'll definitely be superwoman! If not, well, I've tried. It's still a triumph in my eyes. What do you think?
The Professor looked dapper and suntanned after his sporting holiday in Italy and he had good news for me. My cancer markers are down, which means that the treatment is working. My white blood cells are back to normal, so we can have treatment. And, last but not least, all my various organs, like liver and kidney, are working fine. Phew! It was good to hear. But then, there was a down side.
I am not out of the woods yet and the Professor could not tell me how long I have to have chemo treatment, which has been adjusted to my current status. Instead of a three week cycle, we now have a four week cycle. Two weeks on, two weeks off . This will go on until I leave for a planned, six week vacation with my family in the US in November. On my return, there will be a reassessment and we shall see.
So, the way I see it, at present my best option is to settle in for the long haul and treat this as a quasi chronic disease and get on with my life. The question that remains is how to do that.
Until now, I had the philosophy of taking one day at a time. I had incredible emergency help from my family, community and government services. This can't go on forever, so I have to plan to re-enter my normal life and earn some money. My current assignments are a good measure whether I am physically and mentally ready to do that.
So far, so good. Yesterday, the day after the intravenous chemo, I was pretty groggy and, even with my wonderful helper, Shoko, I could only get to my local supermarket for a few groceries. Today, however, I was quite all right. I mean, better. I went for a walk and was still dizzy, and my eyesight has been shoking today, but my head is clear and the dreaded chemobrain is still at bay (I do my brain exercises every morning in the hope that the dreaded fog will never rise this time).
Another thing I started to do is to organise my exercise regimen. On Monday, I went to the gym and got assessed for gentle strengthening exercises. I am going to see if I can go back this weekend, or latest Monday.
Everything at the moment is trial and error. I don't know what my abilities and limitations are for the two weeks of chemo treatment. That is the next lesson to learn during this particular cycle.
And talking about learning. The only thing that suffered this week was my studies. I have only done about the third of the assignments, if that. Tomorrow I'll focus on catching up and see if I can make up what I've missed so far. In order to get a certificate, I have to pass a quiz each week. So far I got 80% and 90% for the first two weeks respectively. Now we are getting to the end of the third week and I have two more to go. Let's see what I can do. If I make it, I'll definitely be superwoman! If not, well, I've tried. It's still a triumph in my eyes. What do you think?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)