Taxol...

I'm not a complainer. I handle pain well, very well.  But for the sake of getting this down on record; for the sake of possibly helping someone who may someday in the same situation; I won't sugar coat this.

I hurt. I more than hurt, I ache a deep ache I've never felt before. I feel like I've been hit by a truck.  My legs are throbbing and I can't stand up straight. My fingernails feel like they are falling out.  My toes feel like they've been burned in a fire and are raw. I can't open a can of soda without excruciating pain. I can barely walk up the stairs without wanting to crawl up them on all fours. 

All from a drug called Taxol.  I, of course, haven't suffered any physical abuse, just internal.  It's tricking my nerves into feeling these things, and I can't make it stop.

Half way there and a possible "lump" in the road...

AC treatment is down, no more red devil, that's good news!

Started Taxol regimen today. Doing it every other week, for 3 hours. Nausea shouldn't be as bad, but neuropathy is a big problem with this chemotherapy drug. Neuropathy is basically the dying off of your nerves in your fingers and toes. Pretty big deal, if it should occur. So, I'll be watching that closely and hoping for the best. Overall, I handled the first half of chemo really well, so I have high hopes for this second part. I only threw up once last week!

Now on to some worrisome news. I felt a lump in the tissue left on my right breast. That's the breast that had the cancer. As you might know by now, I had a skin sparing mastectomy, so as to make reconstruction easier and less Frankenstein-ish lol Although I wanted a complete removal of all tissue and skin, the surgeon made the last minute call and I woke up with lots of skin left. That fact also increases my risk for recurrence in the breast. SO, upon feeling this new lump, I decided to tell the oncologist and see what he thought.

He felt it, and decided it was cause for concern. BUT, it's good to remember that the odds of cancer being able to grow while on the type of chemo I was doing, is very rare. Again, BUT as we also know, Triple Negative Cancer doesn't follow rules. Everyone's is different. Everyone's is also very aggressive. So I see my surgeon in a few days, hopefully it's nothing and we can move on. Praying for the best, but accepting whatever comes my way.

Lots of thank you's for my readers/friends/family... You help me stay positive and happy through all this... sometimes, when my minds blank, I sit and wonder how I'm getting through it all... On paper/blog it seems like so much came crashing down in a short period of time. Perhaps I should be crashing down too? lol but that's not me, I truly feel blessed and happy to be living my life. Sure, I wish my sister and mom were here... Sure, it would have been cool to have not gotten cancer...But God's given me this for a reason, and I feel confident that if He decides He needs me in Heaven, then He will take me, and I will rejoice in my family reunion.

3rd chemo down...

Like the title says, today was chemo number three... I don't believe I ever gave specifics on what I'm taking... it's an AC regimen, please don't ask me to remember the long names! Wiki it, it has a list of regimens on there =) I will be taking it for four cycles and then moving on to a new regimen... Can't remember that one, I'll post it when I know it.

Mentally and emotionally, I'm feeling better than my last post. The kids seem to be making more effort... perhaps because their father is coming a bit out of his shell?? He's taken on the task of cooking dinners, which is nice... I was kinda worn out and getting exhausted from them. Plus, my nephew doesn't like my cooking! just his mama's =( I could only try so hard... I just don't cook like her. So, anyway,  T's doing the cooking again and everyone is happier... he actually socializes while he cooks! I'm glad to see him feeling up to it =) =)

So, for anyone who reads this that's going through, or will be, or knows someone going through chemo... I'll document what I've dealt with so far.

-hair fell out on around day 13, about right on time according to the chemo ladies.  I opted to shave it before it started falling out too bad, as I decided to take control of it and break the emotional cycle of watching my beautiful hair dropping to the floor... so I say, take charge! it's one of the few things we can control =)

-got a mouth sore after 2nd treatment, spoke with some of my TNBC (triple negative breast cancer) sisters for advice. My mouth was pretty torn up from all things hard... they recommended Biotene toothpaste and mouthwash, a soft bristled brush, and rinsing with salt/baking soda water after each meal. I'm happy to report the sore is gone and my mouth doesn't feel raw anymore! Curious to see if it comes back after this treatment, or if I've found a magic cure for mouth sores thanks to those lovely ladies =)

-suffered an allergic reaction from the dexamethasone this time... it's the pre-treatment steroid they give you to help fight side effects of the chemo. It consisted of a bright red/hot face and shortness of breath.  Silly me, ever trying to "not bother" people decided to keep it to myself and go to the restroom to use my inhaler I had with me for my asthma.  =/ got called a bad name by the charge nurse for doing that.... and told that from now on, they are following me into the bathroom to make sure I'm not going in there to hide ... so kids, if you don't want the chemo nurses to get angry with you, tell them when you feel funky, okay!?     lol

-other than that, just some general exhaustion, dizziness, slight nausea, diarhea, and body aches. No big deal... I got this =)     
 

No, Really, I'm just fine...

I live in a house, where everyone's been dealing with cancer for over 8 months. Not because of me, but for my sisters fight.  Her kids and husband watched her taken by the invader. I watched her.

I cared for my mom while she slowly slipped away in a years time. Caring for my sister along side them (the kids and her husband) was second nature because of that year with my mother.

With that said, I have grown very forgiving of the lack of interest in.... well, me, in general. I was sorry for getting sick. Sorry for having to put them through it while they were dealing with so much. Sorry for having to loose my hair and visually remind them of my cancer. Just sorry that I'm such a burden on them. 

Though, I can't pretend it doesn't hurt. It does. It hurts more than I can explain.  I live in a house where I don't matter. Where my cancer doesn't matter.  Where I'm okay, really... I'm just fine.

A letter for my beautiful sister, Sheryl Anita Flores Kim, or Tita, to me alone…

Where do I start? I know this isn’t the last time I will talk with you, but it feels so final.  This letter will find its way into your urn plot, where I hope the words somehow reach you. 

I guess I’ll start from the beginning.  You were there, but then… you were always there.  Mama’s pregnancy with me made her sick, she got cancer.  You were there to take care of me for her.   Long have I heard the stories of me going to school with you, sitting in classes and being such a good kid that the teachers didn’t mind.  They knew why you had me there; they knew you were just being a good big sister.  Always, from the very beginning, you were nothing but a good big sister. 

As the years went on, I thought of you as my second mama.  I won’t lie, when I was younger I hated it… one mama was enough! But, as I got older, I realized you were invested in me as a mother would be.   I grew to respect your strength and absolute love.   I looked up to you… you were what I wanted to be for mama and the family.  You gave selflessly, and completely, for those you love. 

Years later, when mama got sick again, you and I grew closer than we’d ever been.  I think finally, you saw me as someone more than just the little kid I once was.  I think you were proud of what I had become. Proud that you could count on me to take care of mama.  I knew you wanted more than anything, to be able to give your all to mamas care, but I thank you SO MUCH for allowing me to grow up and help her through it, by standing in the place you would have been if you had the chance to. 

Mamas passing made us best friends.  Our pain was one in the same.  We shared the same nightmares, the same heart break, the same anger….  You were who I could turn to. 

Leaving you to follow brad to VA was one of the hardest things I had to do. But, never, in a million years, did I think I’d be coming back in a year to sit by your side as you slowly slipped away.  Cancer.  I can’t tell you how badly I hate that word, that disease, that parasite.  God kept me here long enough to be with you until the end… I know that’s why I have cancer now too.  I had hoped you’d be okay; I was leaving in January to come back in April. Had I left, you’d have been gone… and I would have never forgiven myself for not holding your hand at the end.  

I know it hurt you to know I was sick too, now. But please, don’t worry about me.  I know I’ll be okay… I have you and mama to look up to.  You both fought with all your soul and I will too.  I rest assured knowing you are an angel, looking down on me, holding my hand as I held yours and mamas. And I know that if God needs another one of us, I’ll be reunited with you, and I will rejoice in that.  I love you more than I could ever express in words. 

Your little sister, your best friend,

Lupe

First treatment down...

Let me first start by saying, it's been a little over two weeks since my sister passed, and I've still not gotten over the "Anger" stage of grieving. Yesterday was the viewing of her body before cremation. Saturday will be the burial.

The viewing was all that I'd knew it would be. Cold, painful, and unnecessary. Maybe that's selfish of me? It's just, I've seen her lifeless body enough to fuel dreams for years to come... and fuel them, it has. But this was a whole new view. A frozen, sweaty as it defrosted, view. I kissed her despite of it, I couldn't leave there without giving her one last kiss. I asked the kids and her husband to join hands with me as I prayed.  I used prayer as a way to remind them that their mother, Sheryl, was already amongst the angels; this was just her vessel.... Ashes to ashes.

So, chemo. That started today, as mentioned in the title. Due to my age and health, I made a good candidate for a research group being run by a Cancer Center in NY. They are aiming to prove that regular exercise improves the side effects of chemotherapy treatments. So I wear a pedometer and actigraph (whatever that is?) daily, and also have a set workout regimen I have to follow.  Mostly just resistance band stuff and walking so many steps a day. No biggie, right?? I can do this... although I haven't worked out in a pretty long time and am double thinking the idea of starting to while on chemo... but hey, I've always been a little out of the box, bat shit crazy.

The initial feelings on today?  I was scared and nervous. The actual treatment wasn't bad, they poked a needle in my port on my chest and gave me some pre-med drugs. They issued two huge syringes of the "Red Devil" along with one other chemotherapy drug afterward. Got some nausea meds to take home, along with stool softeners and prilosec (all prophylactic drugs for possible side effects of the chemotherapy).  Also, got an injection to take home to help boost my white blood cells. I'm sure the family will have fun poking me!  

Anyway, that's that. Now it's just a "wait and see" kinda game as to when these side effects will hit. As you know by now, I'll keep you posted.

2/10/12...

The first thing I registered yesterday morning was the simultaneous sound of my bedroom door slamming open and my niece crying hysterically. It was closely followed by Cash crying and Brad screaming for his life. Myself? I was calm and all too aware that the time had come.

 Just as I was about to slap brad in the face to wake him from his hysteria, he snapped out of it and jumped up.... So I ran downstairs. I see my brother in law kneeling next to my sisters favorite recliner, lightly pushing on her chest, crying and saying "breath my love, please breath". I yell for brad to hurry, she needs CPR, which he's trained to do. He gets there and for a split second I see him register the bile coming from her mouth, but he doesn't hesitate to put his mouth to hers and start breathing for her. He tells Terrance, my brother in law, to push harder. And so they continue this until the help arrives.

 The firemen are the first responders. They pull her lifeless body to the floor, forgetting to brace her head. Brad catches it, and saves them from cracking her head on the wooden floor. They asked all these questions, we answer and watch helplessly. Terrance and I had both sunk to the floor, him still crying, me, in shock. Brad was helping. My niece still hysterical on the phone trying to reach my sisters oldest daughter. Her boyfriend upstairs, keeping the kids from the stuff nightmares are made of.

 Ambulance arrives. More of the same. Then they load her on a gurney and I yell for everyone to get a jacket because we are hauling out to the hospital. We arrive right behind the ambulance, through the back doors with my sister. Drs are waiting, a room is waiting, partitions to block everyone from that area are set up. We are strategically blocked from the room and told to answer some questions for the dr. It's just a diversion to keep us calm and away from the gory stuff they had to do to try to get her heart pumping. They place us in our own room, far away from hers, armed with boxes of Kleenex and warm blankets. I take the few moments to call my father, brother and oldest sister.

 My brother and sister head to the hospital, my father is stuck in the mainland on a trip to visit his brother. I don't know how long it was, but by now my sisters oldest daughter has arrived and my siblings aren't far away. The Dr comes in to say there is a slight heart beat but she's not able to breath enough on her own, and her body isn't keeping enough of the oxygen. So, she was alive but only because of the machines, and even with that, she'd slowly slip away very soon.

We can go see her now, "spend the rest of the time with her" .

 We walk in the room, she's been tubed and has dark blood running out of the side of her mouth. It was the side that I stood on, not the side all her kids were on. I try to clean it without them noticing, because when my own mother died, seeing her mouth fill with blood was an image I've never been able to shake.

 I hold her hand. It's still so warm and feels so alive, just like it did that month I spent with her in the hospital when she was first diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. I held her hand a lot then, also. This would be the last time I'd feel it. I memorized her fingers, the tan from all her rings she loved so much, her beautiful long nails. I thought of how different her hand felt in mine, in comparison to my mothers that final day. She still had so much life left in hers.

Then, even despite me knowing better, I got so mad at God, silently yelling at him that it just wasn't fair.... She had so much life left! Everyone took their turn talking to her one last time, kissing her one last time, thanking her for all she'd done for us... one last time. We all held hands and I led a prayer. Then my brother took over holding her hand that I had held for so long, as we all watched her oxygen drop from 42 to 30 percent in the hour we sat there. Then we gave her husband some time alone with her.

 We all knew her wishes of not living on machines and it was clear she wouldn't be able to live without them, so it was time for her husband to tell us his decision. She had made it so clear to us all, that he needn't explain it to any of us, but he felt he had to, he felt he needed to say he was sorry. Him and the kids sobbed and hugged for a long time, them telling him that he had nothing to be sorry for. He spent more time alone with her and then my niece informed the drs of our decision.

 We stayed for the disconnection, not wanting to miss a second of time with her. What happened next wasn't something anyone should see. The tubes came out, as did bile and blood. And she kept breathing, breaths I've heard referred to as "death breaths". Her daughter softly cried out, " she's still breathing!" this went on for about ten minutes, until a look of shear horror and pain fell on her as she took her last breath, that you could hear filled up her lungs with fluid. Then the torture in her face slowly eased..... And she was gone forever.