Halfway home!

These last few weeks have been both challenging and a blessing. Silly me, thinking I had this whole chemo thing figured out. But as of last Friday I’ve had my sixth of 12 weekly chemo treatments, so halfway home with this Phase 2 of treatment.

But first, a hiccup from Phase 1: surgery. Not sure how this all happened, but after my 5th treatment I had the normal nausea and fatigue reaction, which was quickly followed by a kidney stone! Joy of joys, as though there wasn’t enough going on. Luckily I’m used to them thanks to a previous medical situation, and they’re not too bad usually. But I had been looking forward to our summer break — a week off around the July 4th holiday — and saw that fall by the wayside. As soon as the kidney stone passed, I somehow contracted a staph infection in my left breast.

Yes, my new “thing” for July was a staph infection! I’m really on a roll: April was a Cancer diagnosis. May was breast surgery. June was chemo. And now July is staph infection. I am scared of the pestilence August and September hold. Ha!

Anyway, the staph infection was apparently quite the wench, and it landed me in the hospital for five days on intravenous antibiotics. That was fun! The trip to Jackson was tough, but was lucky enough that my friend Lynn and her husband were able to drive me to the surgeon and leave me there with a Frosty and a baked potato to get me through the first night. Kathy followed up with some snacks and company and I spent most of the next few days sleeping and trying to find a comfortable position.

I must give a shout out to the incredible nursing staff at Women’s Hospital in Jackson. They took such great care of me, and were sweet and helpful and kind, all of which are most appreciated in such a situation. One of the young nurses was a W grad, and we made that connection that W grads usually do: so welcome in times of crisis!

My dear former roommate Jo came through with a lift home when my time was up, complete with a tube dangling from my breast. If you’ve had breast surgery — or probably most any surgery — you’re familiar with the ubiquitous drainage tube. It is not pleasant. Necessary, yes. Pleasant, no. Took the rest of that week off from work, and after missing one week of chemo in the hospital had a reduced session to keep things going.

Finally went back to work last week, at least for two days. Wednesday was a mad dash to and from Jackson with my friend Karen to get the drainage tube removed that left me so tired I was nauseated and shaky by the time we got home. Chemo was back to normal last week, and the only thing that made it bearable was a visit from Tina, a retired nurse and truly an angel in disguise. She cleaned my house, left me with lots of yummy food, and generally kept me entertained and cared for over a long weekend visit. Unfortunately, the staph infection flared up a little after the chemo, but that seems to be on the wane again, thankfully. I’ve been back to work this week with a slightly abbreviated schedule, but glad to be up and about and at least semi-useful again.

Couple of quick observations about all this. First, I never imagined how boring and useless I would feel during this. All the things I like to do — reading, cross-stitching, sewing, working with my plants, Pilates — I can’t do, either because of fatigue or just chemo brain. Yes, chemo brain is a real thing. Focus is incredibly difficult, and I’m saving mine for those hours when I can work. It seems easier to focus there than at home, so being productive for those six or eight hours a day is really good for my mental health. This is making me re-think how I plan to spend my time in retirement.

Second, and most important, I continue to be humbled and touched at just how blessed I am. Your calls, text messages, Facebook posts, care packages, cards, prayers, and words of comfort are so very appreciated. The people who’ve given up days out of their schedule to take me back and forth to Jackson or to visit have truly been a gift. As a single woman, never married, no kids, I sometimes feel a little sorry for myself because I’m all alone. This experience has made me realize as I don’t think I ever could have otherwise that I am not alone. The realization that I am blessed with such a loving and caring group of friends is truly worth every bit of pain, discomfort, and sickness this causes. You are all so very special to me, and as a true Southern girl should I do hope to get Thank You notes written someday when my brain begins to function again.

Until then, I’m halfway home through Phase 2, the 12-week regimen of weekly chemo. If all goes according to plan, this one will end around Labor Day, then we move to Phase 3: Chemo every three weeks for another nine months. That phase should remove my nemesis drug, Taxol, so I’m hoping to start feeling better shortly thereafter. And maybe get my hair back. For now, I leave you with the picture of my angel friend Tina and myself. I’m the one who looks like Linus Van Pelt 🙂