These days I’m thinking about being DONE and what it means for me to be DONE (yell a bit when I put done in caps, ok?).

I’ll break it down a bit for you. In the next two weeks I have:

a meeting with my surgeon
my final Herceptin treatment
my portacath removed

Each of these appointments represent a different kind of DONE (nice job) and a bit WOOT WOOT (emphasis here too, please, maybe twist your wrists in a circle).

Surgeon Visit

First of all, surgeon man is very charming WOOT WOOT, so I like to visit him, and this will be my last visit with him. Nuff said about that. Secondly, I’m planning to talk to him about plastic surgery and the hypothetical referral that I was given by someone that I cannot recall right now (I think it was he the surgeon, but could have been my family doc). Bottom line is since I don’t know who said they’d refer me, or who they said they’d refer me to, I haven’t been able to follow up, and therefore I don’t know where I’m at with the referral. This is my life. Just ask my secretarial staff.

I digress. Why do I want a referral? Two reasons:

My chest wall looks like sand dunes. I don’t need breasts, but I’d prefer tabla rasa rather than a Dali-esque distorted chest wall. Who cares, you might ask? Well, I care. When I wear clothes that cling I don’t care that I’m “flat chested / non-breasted” (the name of my imaginary post-retirement company that sells bathing suits with no cups). But I don’t want clinging tops that show the deep tracts of my scars. That just looks wrong. Troughs across my chest are not a great look.
I want to have some tatoo work done on my chest WOOT WOOT and I’m thinking that the “memories of boob” bumps could impact the design options. (But what do I know about the effects of bumps on tatoos…)

So ya, I want to see a plastic surgeon. Can she (yes, she’s a she, I remember that much), … can she do something easy to flatten me out? What about the one deep sink hole? That thing is just going to look worse as the years pass, I can tell you that.

*Belly button #2 and portacath bump in upper right. Vogue material right here.*

You can see why the surgeon appointment is an important DONE for me – because it’s a done with a twist. Done with him, and on to surgeon #2. WOOT WOOT!

Final Treatment

This one is a clear DONE. My treatment regimen was 12 chemo treatments (in a row, so once/week for 12 weeks) and 18 Herceptin treatments (once every 3 weeks for a year). I had to miss one Herceptin treatment because of the heart attack, so that’s why I’m finishing 3 weeks later than prescribed. No biggie.

I’ve been counting down the treatments since the summer, each time taking the nurses the same number of treats as treatments that I have left. So it’s become a bit of a “thing” for me. I started with 13 dipped oreos, then 12 muffins …

I really love the nurses in the chemo suite – they’re all so welcoming, positive, gentle, nice… (even the one who I had some reservations about once – I’ve kept my eye on her). Because of the nurses, the chemo suite becomes a safe place to be when you’re in treatment. People are in various stages of feeling shitty, and the nurses treat their patients like family. It’s a nice, calm place to be, and I actually enjoy going. I know that sounds whack, but it’s true. Warm blankets, understanding and a couple of cookies go a long way.

I can’t say that I’ll actually miss going, but it does feel kind of like the end of summer camp. I have to say goodbye. To make it easier, and to thank them for getting me through it, my good friend Annie is coming with me and bringing a whole bunch of her gorgeous charms that she makes out of recycled glass. I’m going to have each nurse choose a charm for her necklace or bracelet. I’m excited to say thank you that way. I think they’ll love Annie’s work. WOOT WOOT!

Truly though, I won’t feel truly DONE till …

Portacath Removal

I get this sucker out one week after my last treatment. Take a look at this video – it gives me video envy! I have no idea how that woman got permission to video the removal of her portacath, but I’m seriously jealous!! It’s so cool to be able to see what’s being done to you.

Having the portacath has been a huge asset. It has been so easy for the nurses to deliver chemo and Herceptin. I have seen some of the other patients’ struggles with collapsed veins, and I’ve felt so grateful for my port. It was also super handy when I had morphine injected straight to my heart while I was passing that GD kidney stone! The relief was literally INSTANT (jazz hands here).

Many people will tell you that cancer is a “journey”. It’s true, it is. My journey is almost DONE. It’s about fucking time.

Yesterday I had my 4th treatment of 12. So ya, I’m 33.3% percent done chemo! During my obligatory insomnia after treatment, I’ve began reflecting on “what’s been my learning”. SO MUCH LEARNING!

Chemo Patients are not Judgy

Right from the get go I started talking to other patients in the suite. Some patients have headphones in, have their head down, are napping or texting or reading. But others make eye contact, smile, give knowing glances when something happens in the suite (new patient, volunteer with cookies, joke being cracked). These patients are the sharers, the helpers, the commiserators. I like these people!! (Please don’t get me wrong, chemo sucks and it’s ok to have your head down and get through it … I don’t judge!!)

Yesterday was a long chemo for me – 3 1/2 hours – since I was also getting Herceptin (I get this every 4th treatment). So there was quite the ebb and flow of patients in my section (many have 1 hour treatments). I was in the first “bay” where there are two nurse sections. I’ll draw it for you:

drawing of chemo section — *This was my first week in this area. I liked it because it’s more cozy. The other section shares the long back wall & more chairs (beige too), so it’s more spread out.*

At one point there were a total of four ladies having their chemo – all in the second category of people… the eye contact people. I noticed that the lady across from me had no eyelashes and eyebrows but a full head of hair. To her right the knitter had soft fluff growing in on her head. To my left the lady’s hair was obviously thinning. So I started up an alopecia conversation. It was AWESOME to hear their stories and advice!

It’s not like being new mother where everyone weighs in on breastfeeding and circumcision and family beds and pretty much EVERYTHING where there is a choice to be had! These women were smiling and nodding and laughing. Not judgy. It was so refreshing.

Make Friends with Digestive Cookies

They’re all you’ve got when you forget a snack.

I need to investigate into this choice of chemo cookie.

Seeing Friends at Chemo can be Heartbreaking

On my first day in chairs at the Cancer Centre when I was waiting to see my Onc, I heard a voice I knew. I looked over and recognized a friend and former neighbour. I babysat her kids for years. I loved her boys, her house, her husband’s twinkle in his eye and generous laugh, her huge smile and loving heart, her trust in me. I was immediately sad and happy to see her. She is now obviously a patient. Thinner. But in no way diminished. I waited for her to stop chatting with the lady who was sitting 2 seats over. When I called her name, she looked at me, paused and gave me that look. Oh! Oh. And we talked.

Yesterday a former Teacher Candidate walked through the suite with his mom while I was chatting with my sister. He heard my voice, looked over and came to give a hug. I think I gave him the look. Oh! Oh. And we talked.

It is far too easy to lose touch with people that you value and love. I will strive to do more reconnecting and less disconnecting. Meeting people in the cancer clinic who you love but have become disconnected from? It’s bad ju ju.

Silver Linings Exist

On my 2nd treatment day I met Kari who came in with her dad and mom. Her dad was having his first chemo. He was in the chair to my left. It was stressful and hard for them all. We chatted, commiserated, I tried to support, we shared information. Now we text every once in a while and check in on each other’s lives as we live with cancer.

Sparks of light connect in strange places. And I’m grateful for it.

Noticing Matters

I can’t even tell you how many notes, swearing socks, dinner contributions, emails, gift cards, brown chair texts, books, comments on the blog, chocolate, spa treatments, hugs, visits, jewelry, prayer, tea, etc etc etc x100 that I’ve received from family, friends, colleagues, students, former students … the list is overwhelming to me.

*At this point I appear to have all the tea in China.*

One of the things that have surprised me have been the bits of support that are related to my treatment. We all know that side effects suck. So when I get tips that help me, I REALLY appreciate it! Here are some examples:

Adrienne told me about Secaris which is a clear gel that I stick up my nose to ease the sinus pain. (Better than the Vaseline purchased 10 years ago!)
Jim told me about chewable Papaya enzyme (who knew??) and Natalie sent me Digize which is an essential oil that I put it in my vaporizer or rub a diluted mixture on my chest – both ease heartburn.
I got stool softener advice from the lady with thinning hair! It works!! omg and that was yesterday! TMI
Wig advice from Jane and Jenn (who I don’t know but a friend hooked me up with her via email).
My cousin Cheri who is a prof at U of Windsor and is currently researching the benefits of exercise for breast cancer patients sends me pertinent research journals (from Current Ocology – A Canadian Cancer Research Journal). There are exercise guidelines in there that I am thinking about trying to follow. Sorry Cheri. WIP.
Cheri’s colleague Lisa whose research of the benefits of yoga. I’m doing better with that one. Thank god for Yoga with Adriene.
A local doc friend got me onto reading Research Monographs for the drugs I’m taking. Fascinating and helpful. (I like data.)

It’s ALL important. It doesn’t matter what it is … big gesture or small gesture … doesn’t matter. It’s primarily the noticing and the encouraging. The medical stuff is like icing on the cake.

Note: I apologize to all of those people in my life who I didn’t pay enough attention to when they were going through HELL. I think that I felt far away and unknowing and unhelpful and not wanting to say the wrong thing. BUT THAT WAS STUPID. STUPID!!!!! So if someone in your life is going through something – let them know that you are in also in the universe, thinking about them. That’s all. (Sorry Jayne. Sorry Jane. Sorry Sherri. Sorry Jim. Sorry Kirk. Sorry Marilyn. I love you. Please forgive me.)

And so…

Bottom line is that I’m learning. This learning journey is hard, but important, as all journeys are. Thanks for walking it with me. Thanks for teaching. Thanks for helping.

Making it Work

… creations and life in general

Tag: nurses

What’s Done is DONE!!