7 Days After First Chemo

Just a little preface if you don't mind. And oh by the way - sorry for this post being so long. For those that know me, you of course realize that I could take 10 minutes, and 1000 words to convey that "The house is on fire, and you need to leave".

To start, let me again say thanks to all of the well wishers. Whether accomplished by phone, email, or blog comments, all of the support shown to Glenda has been incredible and greatly appreciated. Whichever form each of you chose to use, please NEVER underestimate the positive impact it has had on both of us, and particularly Glenda.

Having been on the other side of this "cancer" thing very recently (a close friend passed away from lung cancer about two months ago), Glenda and I both know and can appreciate the feelings of inadequacy you might be experiencing as you try to express your love and support. I'm fairly sure that you think words just aren't enough. Trust me, we now know that each and every one of those expressions are magical, and tremendously uplifting!!! They do help the healing process. By all means, please feel free to continue if and when you choose.

Coming up on a month since the initial news, we are now starting to actually wrap our heads around the diagnosis, treatment plan, and most of the possible future considerations. But yeah, the first three weeks or so were incredibly scary. I mean when you hear a Doctor say the big "C", it's pretty tough to deal with at first. You watch this exchange take place hundreds of times on TV and the movies, but hearing it in real life is completely different.

By now, however, we really do anticipate a positive outcome, and we both believe with all of our heart and mind that everything is going to be ok. The statistics are in our favor, and we are convinced that we literally have the best doctors available. Most importantly, God has been, and will continue to be an enduring rock for both of us. Prayer is proving to be an incredibly powerful tool.

To close this little intro, both of us know that most of you have had the misfortune to have experienced cancer yourselves - either first hand, or within your "family and friends" group at an earlier time. And we realize the devastating impact the experience can have on everyone involved, even if it eventually ends well. Please know that we are NOT trying to make Glenda's situation more significant, or more special. This blog is simply an available tool (not even available in the not too distant past) that allows us to:

• keep our family and friends updated in a fairly simple way, and to
• inform and educate any/all of you on what YOU might expect if YOU, or someone close to you has to travel down this frightening path sometime soon.

Okay, enough of the blubbery emotional stuff. I won't cover it again.

On with the update.

Well, one week down, and Glenda is probably about 80%. By the time I got home from a trip on Sunday afternoon she was beginning to feel better. (by the way I didn't WANT to leave, but for some strange reason, Glenda needed me to go to work - apparently I was hovering way too much). Can you imagine??????????

To those of you who actually talked to her last week, you know just how bad she sounded, at least through Friday. As of today, however, although still pretty tired, she's generally much, much better. We are hopeful that this general chronology will be close to the same for the future treatments, as knowing what to expect really does help a lot.

By far, Glenda's worst post-treatment side effect was the chemo induced migraines. By Friday of last week, the intensity was the highest she had ever had, and she was ALMOST to the point of going to the ER. The imatrex did help, but the dosage/number of pills were too low, and there turned out to be some insurance issues, that are hopefully now resolved. We are optimistic that she can get ahead of this thing prior to the next treatment.

Note: To all of you that she didn't respond to last week, she wants you to know that reading any type of text was just not possible for her while the pain was at it's highest. If you don't actually hear back from her, please know that she will read everything in the coming days.

Yesterday, (Monday) we met Glenda's radiology oncologist, Dr. Croghan. She works in the same facility, and for the same medical group as Dr. Brooks the chemo guy. (We think this will work to Glenda's advantage throughout the process). Dr. Croghan was without a doubt the most patient, kind, caring, empathetic health professional that we've met yet. She sat with us for over 30 minutes and discussed anything and everything. Including:

• the radiation treatments to come probably in the late Nov/early Dec timeframe (after the chemo and surgery)
• objective opinions on single vs. double mastectomy
• expected radiation side effects like tiredness, red skin, loss of elasticity
• info on future reconstruction choices, potential problems, realistic expectations, etc.
• she actually found/identifed the tumor itself, which previously, had not been successfully accomplished by other doctors.
• for the FIRST time we saw the actual mammogram films in a chronological order for the last two years or so. You could actually see the progression of the tumor growth. In fact you could see it so clearly that we can't help but wonder (even though it's not productive to the cause NOW) why it wasn't identified earlier. Admittedly hindsight is 20/20, and we had the advantage of knowing it was there of course.

The point to be made here for the women readers, is that in the future when you go over the results of your mammogram with your individual OBGYN's, demand that they actually do a "contrast and compare" with earlier films.

Glenda truly has no bitterness about this. She loves and trusts her OB/GYN (of 35 years). I have met her as well, and she is an incredibly caring and involved physician. Who knows"? Maybe a regressive comparison WAS accomplished. These things just happen sometimes.

Anyway, we walked out of Dr. Croghan's office with a renewed sense of optimism and strength. She was incredible.

Today, we got up at 4 a.m., and headed to the hospital (TMC) for the surgical implant of the "porta-cath". Mentioned briefly before, this "porta-cath" was the STRONGLY recommended procedure whereby a small incision is made in the upper chest area, and into which a catheter is placed. This access point is intended to allow much easier access for future chemo, blood work, medication etc.

Instead of going under general anesthesia, Glenda opted for a local combined with another drug that basically made her very sleepy. (We have always been told to minimize general anesthesia as much as possible). The procedure went well EXCEPT that the intended vein - positioned right under her left collar bone - was apparently too "dry" and therefore un-usable. So, the port opening was instead positioned fairly low down, on the left side of her neck. Who knows all of the ramifications of this, but we're being told this re-location doesn't present any out-of-the-ordinary problems.

Home about 10:30 with some pain meds, and ice packs. She is sore, and sleepy, so the rest of the day will be very low profile. Physically, however, she just told me that she feels the best she has since the chemo treatment.

Tomorrow is her scheduled follow-up with the Chemo doctor to have her white blood cell levels checked. They were very low this morning, and we can only hope that observed levels tomorrow won't impact the scheduling of her next chemo. We are guessing it will be around the 18th, and she wants it all done as soon as possible - as you can imagine. She is really glad to be feeling better. Maybe she'll have a couple of fairly normal weeks, before it all starts again. She is being very strong.

I think this version of War and Peace brings you all up to speed as of today. More to follow when there is more to follow.

Thanks again for all the love and prayers.