Last night on a walk around our neighborhood, out of nowhere Rose told me she was glad I didn't die during treatment and asked why I walked with the survivors at the Race for the Cure if I was still going to treatments and doctor appointments all the time. I wasn't a surivor yet. And, then the girls told me they were glad I was finally done. (Twenty weeks of appointments is a very, very long time.) I struggled with how to answer because I want to CELEBRATE the end of chemo ... but I am still facing several more months of various treatments. It was difficult for them to comprehend that I'm done with the first of three big and very different steps of treatment but that we celebrate our accomplishments as we earn them. I hope this all makes sense to them one day. It's certainly still surreal to me some days.
It's not for lack of great questions or healthy conversation with my oncologist today ... but I still don't have a concrete plan. I need facts and figures. So, I've got another more appointments next week for an MRI and a meeting with my surgeon to lay out the second phase which is some type of surgery. My sister, Rebecca, and Jeff and I sat with the doctor from 11-2 or so asking lots of questions and hearing lots of statistics. I was thrilled they were there for me to take copious notes and have a different and often clarifying perspective. I take a lot of drugs during chemo that leave me very foggy and difficult with comprehension so it's great to have four extra ears to rely on.
We are celebrating as a family this weekend the way all North Carolinians celebrate -- surf and sand. But, as I go to bed tonight I go back to my Scripture verse that I first latched onto when I was diagnosed ...I have not been given a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind. 2 Timothy 1:7
Blessings to you all,
Ann
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Preparing My Questions
I meet with my oncologist tomorrow and I'm compiling a long list of questions. Last night with our power out, the girls in VA with my brother and his family, we sat in the garage watching the rain and furiously drafting our questions for the doctor. Has the chemo satisfied his expectations? What are the chances for recurrence in one year, two years, five years? What are tumor markers and where do I fall on the scale? Can he recommend a plastic surgeon? When will I get my life back? Will I always have heartburn? Is that the least of my problems?
It's anxiety for certain. Anyway ... the girls have been with my brother in Chesapeake since Sunday afternoon and they voted to come home. We've enjoyed the silence for certain but I'm really looking forward to seeing them tonight and hygging and kissing on them. Last night they called home thrilled with their new math workbooks and were so excited that they had already completed one book and were moving up to level 2. I hope we can bottle that excitement to last through college.
Please keep us in your prayers for guidance and peace during the next week as we meet with the oncologist and surgeon. Thanks for all your support.
Ann
It's anxiety for certain. Anyway ... the girls have been with my brother in Chesapeake since Sunday afternoon and they voted to come home. We've enjoyed the silence for certain but I'm really looking forward to seeing them tonight and hygging and kissing on them. Last night they called home thrilled with their new math workbooks and were so excited that they had already completed one book and were moving up to level 2. I hope we can bottle that excitement to last through college.
Please keep us in your prayers for guidance and peace during the next week as we meet with the oncologist and surgeon. Thanks for all your support.
Ann
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Life in the "Chemo Suite"
I haven't had much to say lately, or a lot of time to write. The "athletes" in my family have been very busy with softball, swimming and volleyball this week. The girls received trophies at a very grown-up and formal banquet last night. As a grown-up, it is easy to forget that trophy can bring so much joy and pride. Jeff's sand volleyball team, Silicon Dioxide (which is Latin for sand) lost their first game in the tournament but rallied at the local bar. His Asbury softball team has advanced in their tournament so everything seems to be coming to an end.
And, speaking of that, I'm writing from the chemo lab today. Lots of patients are coming and going here. After today, I only have to hang out in these green recliners with the catheter attached to my chest for one more appointment. I haven't "bonded" with any of the patients and most days I don't speak to them or them to me. We listen in on one another's conversations and look away quickly when we're caught. The group is diverse, although predominantly females in their 50s, and varied in our walks and reactions to the drugs. I haven't seen anyone get sick, which I was afraid of 19 weeks ago ... I thought people would be puking and hanging on by a thread ... at this lab we aren't that bad. The nurses are sweet (all female) and full of humor and compassion. It's like having a very attentive and knowledgeable wait staff at a luxury restaurant. My nurse has been Nicole. She's from Pennsylvania, has two sons younger than my girls and is very well grounded. She has made my Thursday's more than tolerable. I enjoy talking with her and look forward to our visits. I will miss her. I'm thinking of bringing her the same joke book Jeff used with me when he was giving nightly shots. She could use a few more jokes in her repertoire.
How am I? Better than last week. I'm still very anxious and almost nauseous at the word "mastectomy." I still don't know which surgery to choose although I have started leaning toward one.
Life sure isn't what I thought it'd be when I was wearing feathered bangs and fake leather pants in high school and projecting out what I want to do with my life. I wouldn't have chosen this cross to bear, but I've learned a lot about myself, my family and my friends along the way. Regardless of this not being the journey I would have picked, I certainly would not have been able to project how lucky I would be in so many ways.
I'm getting shots again this week for both red and white blood cell counts. They are both just a little low. Nothing serious. And, that's the update from Raleigh.
Fondly,
Ann
And, speaking of that, I'm writing from the chemo lab today. Lots of patients are coming and going here. After today, I only have to hang out in these green recliners with the catheter attached to my chest for one more appointment. I haven't "bonded" with any of the patients and most days I don't speak to them or them to me. We listen in on one another's conversations and look away quickly when we're caught. The group is diverse, although predominantly females in their 50s, and varied in our walks and reactions to the drugs. I haven't seen anyone get sick, which I was afraid of 19 weeks ago ... I thought people would be puking and hanging on by a thread ... at this lab we aren't that bad. The nurses are sweet (all female) and full of humor and compassion. It's like having a very attentive and knowledgeable wait staff at a luxury restaurant. My nurse has been Nicole. She's from Pennsylvania, has two sons younger than my girls and is very well grounded. She has made my Thursday's more than tolerable. I enjoy talking with her and look forward to our visits. I will miss her. I'm thinking of bringing her the same joke book Jeff used with me when he was giving nightly shots. She could use a few more jokes in her repertoire.
How am I? Better than last week. I'm still very anxious and almost nauseous at the word "mastectomy." I still don't know which surgery to choose although I have started leaning toward one.
Life sure isn't what I thought it'd be when I was wearing feathered bangs and fake leather pants in high school and projecting out what I want to do with my life. I wouldn't have chosen this cross to bear, but I've learned a lot about myself, my family and my friends along the way. Regardless of this not being the journey I would have picked, I certainly would not have been able to project how lucky I would be in so many ways.
I'm getting shots again this week for both red and white blood cell counts. They are both just a little low. Nothing serious. And, that's the update from Raleigh.
Fondly,
Ann
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Strangers Come Forward
So, the girls start school in one month ... another source of angst. And, the devotional yesterday that they sent out (private school) was dead on for me. I share it with you here ...
The question might be asked, "Are burdens and trials a necessity?"A man had a grandfather clock. One day he felt sorry for the grandfather clock because it had a weight on it, and that weight was always pulling on the clock. The man said, “Oh, Mr. Clock, you’ve held this weight so long; I’m going to remove it and let you rest.” The clock protested, saying, “Don’t take that weight from me. That’s what keeps me going.” In the same way, the trials and tests of life are there for your endurance. They’re to keep you going, keep you trusting, keep you praying, and keep you depending upon God. James shares that the trials and tribulations of life make us of "sterling coinage." He shares it is like a refiner's fire that ultimately brings greater purity and effectiveness in our walk with God. Let us praise the Lord because God is at work in our lives making us more like Him.
BIBLE MEDITATION:
James 1:3 - "Knowing this, that the trying of your faith works patience."
It goes onto ask you to thank God for the trials in your life ... not an easy task. But I also had several new acquaintances put in my life this week that helped by sharing their stories of faith, perseverance and patience. And, I had my family and friends lift me back up ... I'm doing much better emotionally. Thanks to each and every one of you for your prayers.
Like the clock, no one can take my weights from me. But the winding and the polishing and the tender loving care and the PATIENCE that you treat a clock with ... that is exactly what you've done for me. Thank you.
Off to chemo ... it's just a simple 5K remaining (3 miles/treatments) ... if I jog real slow I can physically do that this morning before I go. Listening to the birds, feeling the wind and enjoying my friends.
Have a blessed day.
The question might be asked, "Are burdens and trials a necessity?"A man had a grandfather clock. One day he felt sorry for the grandfather clock because it had a weight on it, and that weight was always pulling on the clock. The man said, “Oh, Mr. Clock, you’ve held this weight so long; I’m going to remove it and let you rest.” The clock protested, saying, “Don’t take that weight from me. That’s what keeps me going.” In the same way, the trials and tests of life are there for your endurance. They’re to keep you going, keep you trusting, keep you praying, and keep you depending upon God. James shares that the trials and tribulations of life make us of "sterling coinage." He shares it is like a refiner's fire that ultimately brings greater purity and effectiveness in our walk with God. Let us praise the Lord because God is at work in our lives making us more like Him.
BIBLE MEDITATION:
James 1:3 - "Knowing this, that the trying of your faith works patience."
It goes onto ask you to thank God for the trials in your life ... not an easy task. But I also had several new acquaintances put in my life this week that helped by sharing their stories of faith, perseverance and patience. And, I had my family and friends lift me back up ... I'm doing much better emotionally. Thanks to each and every one of you for your prayers.
Like the clock, no one can take my weights from me. But the winding and the polishing and the tender loving care and the PATIENCE that you treat a clock with ... that is exactly what you've done for me. Thank you.
Off to chemo ... it's just a simple 5K remaining (3 miles/treatments) ... if I jog real slow I can physically do that this morning before I go. Listening to the birds, feeling the wind and enjoying my friends.
Have a blessed day.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Struggling with New Reality
I haven't posted in a few days because I can't think of anything nice to say. Tonight my blog is an outlet. Writing is very relaxing for me ... hitting publish is the stressful point. Regardless of all that, I'm in a horrible mood and home alone. I'm fighting low grade fevers and everyone has upset me. As my mom used to say, I am mad at the world. She's right. For example, my hair is growing back gray. I know it ... I certainly don't need to hear it again. In all fairness I haven't heard that my hair is gray today but I'm still pissed about hearing it yesterday.
So, you may guess that I'm really struggling the last few days. Chemo hit me harder than I thought it might. I expected to breeze through the last month but frankly, I'm a basket case. Muscle fatigue and overall exhaustion set back in and couple it with a lack of a plan for moving forward and I am a hormonal nut job. There is no clear definition in my next steps ... and mentally I am wigging out. On top of that, it's a very stressful week at work ... (I know some people think I shouldn't be working but the reality is that I like my job and we really need the income) ... I just don't know where to turn. It's often easier to open up with a keyboard or an ink pen than it is with a "true" conversation.
Want another example? Yesterday with my sister (who is probably going to kill me for writing this) we discussed drains and fluids that will come after surgery ... it was a very casual conversation for everyone in the room but ME. I just wanted to vomit. This is my breast we're talking about ... not an optional surgery. It's cancer. I couldn't decide if I should cry or puke and in the end I just sat there looking at the crack on the ceiling hoping that proverbial hole would open in the ground and swallow me up.
I suppose I should get down on my hands and knees and pray. It just isn't coming. I'm mad and upset and I don't really know where to turn. I have stacks of cards from many of you telling me how strong I am and offering Scripture ... and the last few days that just isn't working. My eyes are blurry and I should be reviewing a PPT for a presentation I need to give tomorrow but my heart just isn't in it.
So, that's the raw form of me these last few days. I'm going through the motions. With any luck if you run into me tomorrow, you won't notice anything different or out of the ordinary ... I'll give you a smile and tell you "I'm hanging in there." And I am. I have to hang in there. No one else can do it for me.
That's the update ... in a rare glimpse of a very brutally honest me. Raw and uncensored. Hormonal and feverish. Grey but growing.
Ann "self-abosrbed" Camden
So, you may guess that I'm really struggling the last few days. Chemo hit me harder than I thought it might. I expected to breeze through the last month but frankly, I'm a basket case. Muscle fatigue and overall exhaustion set back in and couple it with a lack of a plan for moving forward and I am a hormonal nut job. There is no clear definition in my next steps ... and mentally I am wigging out. On top of that, it's a very stressful week at work ... (I know some people think I shouldn't be working but the reality is that I like my job and we really need the income) ... I just don't know where to turn. It's often easier to open up with a keyboard or an ink pen than it is with a "true" conversation.
Want another example? Yesterday with my sister (who is probably going to kill me for writing this) we discussed drains and fluids that will come after surgery ... it was a very casual conversation for everyone in the room but ME. I just wanted to vomit. This is my breast we're talking about ... not an optional surgery. It's cancer. I couldn't decide if I should cry or puke and in the end I just sat there looking at the crack on the ceiling hoping that proverbial hole would open in the ground and swallow me up.
I suppose I should get down on my hands and knees and pray. It just isn't coming. I'm mad and upset and I don't really know where to turn. I have stacks of cards from many of you telling me how strong I am and offering Scripture ... and the last few days that just isn't working. My eyes are blurry and I should be reviewing a PPT for a presentation I need to give tomorrow but my heart just isn't in it.
So, that's the raw form of me these last few days. I'm going through the motions. With any luck if you run into me tomorrow, you won't notice anything different or out of the ordinary ... I'll give you a smile and tell you "I'm hanging in there." And I am. I have to hang in there. No one else can do it for me.
That's the update ... in a rare glimpse of a very brutally honest me. Raw and uncensored. Hormonal and feverish. Grey but growing.
Ann "self-abosrbed" Camden
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
No Matter How You Grow
In a house with so many "women", body style and hair are two very popular topics. Especially since my hair is growing. Tonight as I yanked my wig off as soon as we pulled out of a friends drive, Rose asked if it made me sad to be bald. It doesn't anymore and I said as much. I admit it helps that it's growing very quickly now and soon I'll get rid of the wig completely. Anyway, I asked Rose if it made her sad to see me bald and her very beautiful answer was, "No, I love you no matter how you grow." You can't get an answer much better than that. I just hope she still feels that way when she's a preteen.
Last week was only the second week all year that I didn't have to go to the doctors office. It was a good week to be on vacation in southern Indiana (that's a photo of my parents place). The temperature was very unusual ... only in the 60's and 70's. We got to spend some time with our family and friends and we hadn't been home in a full year. The girls lived life large as they picked black raspberries, washed a goat, climbed apple trees, walked a pig, caught a few fish, went to see the movie UP, toured Purdue and watched the Pekin parade and fireworks. It was a nice change from chemo.
Now that we're back, Grace is celebrating a fifth place ribbon in freestyle at the swim meet last night. Rose is coping but has shed a few tears and is very sensitive on the topic. Jeff is out playing volleyball for the night and I'm planning to go for a run in the morning before work.
Tomorrow afternoon is my fourth treatment and I'm dreading it. It's not the chemo treatment itself ... I've grown used to the side effects, the process and the terminology ... it's the week afterwards that has me nervous. I'm afraid of the end because I'm terrified of the unknown again. The next steps. The surgery, the radiation and getting on with life -- I'm afraid of what it may bring. I feel myself reaching out to God and praying with an intensity that I haven't in a few weeks. I am praying for peace, counsel, patience and wisdom.
... and that's my update ...
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