The Nightmare of the Baked Potato

Once upon a time there was a silly little woman who had some of her body parts cut out and then was sewn back together.  In spite of previous experience, the silly little woman believed that recovery should be short and easy, because, after all, she had better things to do than sit around the house and nurse her wounds.

 

So one day, just a few weeks after the procedure, the woman made plans to meet a favorite friend for lunch.  The woman planned carefully, because she knew that her body was not fully adjusted to her usual culinary delights.  She thought it would be smart to meet at a casual deli where she could order a simple baked potato and her friend could enjoy the best iced tea in town. 

 

The appointed day arrived, and the woman with the scar on her belly was excited!  Not only would she get to leave her house, but she was going to drive a car!  And have girl talk!  And wear makeup!  The birds chirped happily outside her window while she lovingly bid her three small cowboys farewell.  She felt a moment of sadness that they couldn't share in her big day, but alas, they had to go out into the world and conquer elementary school.

 

The woman with the scar on her belly was finally satisfied that she looked presentable.  She cheerfully drove to the restaurant and greeted her friend with a big hug.  They went inside the restaurant, and the woman marveled at how light and bright everything looked.  After weeks within the four walls of her own home, the outside world appeared bigger and more beautiful than ever!  When it was time to order, she was tempted by the best sweet tea the town had to offer, but took the high road and stuck to her plan: a baked potato and a glass of water.

 

Well, the two friends had a marvelous time.  They laughed and swapped stories and cried, and then laughed a whole lot more.  As the woman believed the simple baked potato was nourishing her broken body, the fellowship was also nourishing her soul.  As she talked with her friend, the woman felt satisfied--even a little proud--that she had accomplished their little luncheon.  "Take THAT, you $%&*! cancer!", she thought.

 

The thought had just popped into her head when it was interrupted by strange noises.  The noises started soft and slow, but they quickly grew louder and more intense.  The woman didn't even have time to look around the restaurant before she knew that those noises were coming from her.  It was her post-operative stomach, expressing its apparent distaste for the lunch the little woman had so proudly fed it.

 

The woman with the scar on her belly suspected that her day was about to take a downhill turn.  She quickly hugged her friend, promised a "next time", and jumped in her car.  Thankfully, she was not too far from home, but each rumble from her stomach seemed to stretch the route.  She came to a screeching halt in her driveway, and made it inside in just enough time for the baked potato to be disposed of.  More than once.  And then the toast she'd had for breakfast.  And all of the food she had consumed in the previous days and weeks.  All gone.

 

After more than an hour, the woman lay on her empty, scarred-up belly, spent.  Every part of her ached.  She silently cursed the humble potato for acting so innocent when really it was setting a trap for hungry people with digestive issues.  She cursed herself for foolishly believing in the potato. 

 

Suddenly, the woman heard a noise!  It seemed to echo throughout the too-quiet house.  Could it be...?  YES!  It was the sound of a door opening.  And footsteps.  Someone was in the house with her!  Before the woman could think what to do, a pair of shoes met her at eye-level.  The woman looked up and was relieved to see that the legs in those (cute) shoes belonged to her mother.  She was saved!  As her little mother sank to the floor next to her, the woman with the scar on her belly managed to croak, "It's not as bad as it looks."  Even though it was.

 

From that day on, the woman was terrified of food and only ate white rice.

 

The End

 

 

Doxil 1/6

Today was my first day of Doxil chemotherapy.  All things considered, it went fairly well.  Mom and I stayed in a hotel close to the hospital last night because of the ungodly hour I had to be there this morning.  In spite of the massive construction project on 635, we got there on time.  It's funny how the surgery protocol is old hat to me.  The first time I had surgery at MCD, we got lost in the hospital and I remember well feeling like I would throw up from anxiety.  This morning, I knew exactly where to go, what to expect, and even knew a few surgery nurses by name.  My favorite nurse, Cynthia, was my pre-admit nurse when I had my major procedure 2 years ago.  She said, "It's back?  Well, CRAP."

 

That just about says it all.

 

I opted to do the surgery with minimal anesthesia.  I did not want to feel very groggy or have to spend time in the recovery room.  The anesthesiologist gave me a "margarita" of drugs and they injected numbing meds around the site.  It's a very odd feeling to be aware of someone cutting you open.  I am in more pain now than I was during the surgery, although I remember saying "ouch" a few times.

 

I was wheeled straight from surgery to chemo.  My chemotherapy is administered in a large room that can fit 10 patients at a time.  There are partition walls between each recliner chair, giving the false sense of privacy.  At least I don't have to look at everyone, or worse, endure them looking at me.  Pre-meds were minimal, only fluids and an anti-nausea drug.  The Doxil itself is red.  Kool-Aid red, homemade Valentines red.  The shade of red that made me think of happy celebrations instead of a wretched bag of life-saving poison.  I was wishing so much that I had a bouquet of balloons and a cake with delicious butter cream frosting instead of bruised skin and an unshakable headache!

 

Mom and I tried to watch a movie together on the TV screen that was provided, but a very unhappy patient across the room dragged her IV pole over and asked us to keep it down.  Humph.  The woman at the station next to me asked the nurse if her friend could grab a snack from the stash they keep for patients.  Although the nurse made it clear that the food was for chemo patients only, the friend went ahead and gave the nurse her order:  peanut butter crackers and cranberry juice.  If they didn't have cranberry, she would settle for grape juice, but was obviously displeased.  They then carried on an in-depth theological discussion for the remainder of the afternoon that was just loud enough for the rest of us to hear.

 

The good news is that there is a fish tank in the room.  Worst case scenario, I can watch the fish.

 

Even with all of that, we still made it home before the cowboys got off the school bus.  I feel...well, I don't feel crummy.  I feel very tired and sore and a little bit sad.  But my cowboys--they came in like nothing was wrong.  They talked to their Nana and hugged their mom and I knew.  I KNEW that I am doing the right thing, even though it is hard.  I would have rather been a hundred other places today than at that hospital, but at the end of the day, I am their mom.  I laughed at Goliath's story that he told about his friends, I helped Little Middle study for his spelling test tomorrow (who knew that "unusual" would give him so much trouble?!?), and I listened to Baby read Green Eggs and Ham to me.  It's his favorite.  Those three little boys are all my favorites.

 

As this day comes to an end, I realize that I have experienced God's mercy, grace, and kindness in a thousand different ways.  Hundreds--literally hundreds--of people prayed for me and my family today.  Knowing that simply blows my mind.  I came in contact with helpful and compassionate doctors, nurses, and staff who made a hard day easier for me.  My sons are healthy and happy. 

"He told me, 'My grace is enough; it's all you need.  My strength comes into its own in your weakness.'" (2 Corinthians 12:9)

 

My Jesus is all I need...yesterday, today, and forever. 

Tidbits

--I had an echocardiogram last week to set a baseline for chemo treatments.  The tech told me that my aorta is "pretty."

--I went to a chemo teaching session.  Doxil is a strong drug, but not as toxic as the Taxol/Cisplatin regimen that I did 2 years ago.  I am on high alert for hand-foot syndrome, symptoms of anemia, fever, and mouth sores.  It is anticipated that my hair will thin, but will not all fall out as before.

--Chemo starts on  Thursday.

--Before the chemo infusion begins, I will have surgery to put a port in place.  Yes, on the same day.  I have to check in with day surgery at 5:45 a.m.

--Today is the first day of preschool.  I just can't believe I'm not there with my little friends!  In spite of my best efforts, I feel very sad that I am missing out.

--Hubby took all of the cowboys out to the lease for the opening weekend of dove season.  In their absence, I got to have a girls' weekend with my sister and Reese the Niece!

We ate warm tortillas from Rosa's, watched girl movies, stayed in our pajamas, and played with the baby.  Goodness, I love that little girl!

 

--With chemo starting, I have a conundrum.  I have been putting off getting my hair done because I was anticipating losing it again.  Now that I know with a fair amount of certainty that at least some  of it will stay, I need to do something about those roots.  Unfortunately, my nurse advised me to avoid hair coloring.  The reaction of the chemicals in the dye with the poisonous chemicals in the drug may exacerbate the hair thinning.  On the other hand, it's already looking pretty neglected.  I'm hoping that there may be something natural to use in the interim to give me the color that I want without burning up whatever hair I get to keep.

 

--Last night while he was in the shower, Little Middle said to Hubby, "Can I shave?  It's on my bucket list!"

 

--Baby has already had more homework than both of his brothers combined.  For one project, he had to make a paper doll of himself.  For another, he had to cut pictures out of magazines and decorate his daily journal cover with them so he can have inspiration for writing.  Um, how much inspiration does a six-year-old need?

 

--Goliath has an appointment with the eye doctor this afternoon.  He has been complaining about blurred vision, especially now that school has started back up.  I will not be surprised at all if he needs glasses.  He is worried, but I think he would be adorable. 

--Adorable is not cool in the 5th grade.  5th graders also do not "play," they "hang out."  Just sayin'. 

The Sickness: Chapter 3

Yesterday I met the Top 6 Most Annoying People on the Planet.  They were all in the oncology waiting room at MCD.  I had plenty of time to figure out how annoying they were, because I waited over 2 hours to get to see the doctor.  I seriously doubt that 1) the upcoming presidential election can fix health care, and 2) that the disabled woman really had a hemi engine in her wheelchair like her bumper sticker claimed.

 

Dr. F said that my incision is healing nicely.  Although I still don't feel great, I am learning more every day about my new-and-not-so-improved insides.  It is a delicate balance of food and meds that will be tolerated.  Anything outside those imaginary boundaries is quickly rejected by my body and I pay the price for days.  Dr. F assures me that I will feel better, but it will take time.  Time as in months, not as in days. 

 

I was also released to drive a car and climb stairs as I feel that I am able.  That means more freedom, which I have sorely missed!  Last night, I went upstairs and tucked my cowboys into bed for the first time in three weeks.  Smile.

 

Then we moved on to the "what comes next" phase of the visit.  One of the two chemosensitivity tests have come back.  Dr. F gave me the stack of papers marked "FINAL REPORT" in big, bold letters.  At first, I didn't understand what I was looking at.  But as he began to talk, I began to absorb information.  On one side of the cover page of the report, there is a column that lists 13 different drugs, or families of related drugs, that are labeled "Agents Associated With Potential Lack of Benefit."  It means just what it says--each medicine listed there is ineffective in my body to fight cancer.  The list includes Taxol and Cisplatin, the two chemo drugs that rocked my world less than 2 years ago.  You can not imagine the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

 

There is another list on the other side of the page labeled "Agents Associated With Potential Benefit."  There is 1 drug listed there.  ONE.  There is ONE chemotherapy drug that might help me. 

 

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.

 

I had gone in to this office visit believing that I had choices.  I was prepared to accept chemo, but I was also prepared to reject it if this test showed that the compatible chemo drugs were too harsh.  I believed that I was entitled to choose for myself.

 

It never entered my mind that I wouldn't have options.  And I didn't even need to ask Dr. F what would happen if I don't do the chemo.  I already know.  I went through hell, and it didn't matter.  I can barely wrap my mind around it.

 

I see now that I have no choices.  I have to do the chemotherapy.  It's one drug...one chance...my only chance.  This has to work, or......

 

STOP.

 

The drug is Doxil.  It is a cytotoxic drug that is used to treat aggressive forms of ovarian cancer and a specific type of sarcoma that is related to the AIDS virus.  That mental image is sobering.

 

Doxil is an irritant.  Side effects and their severity depend on how much of the drug is received.  Possible side effects include low blood counts (increased risk for infection), skin rash, hand-foot syndrome, peeling and/or sores on the skin, nausea, vomiting, hair thinning and/or loss, poor appetite, stomach/digestive issues.  Those are the main ones.  There is also a risk of interference with the pumping action of the heart.  My heart will be closely monitored for signs of disease or decreased efficiency at pumping blood.

 

If everything goes right, I will have my first Doxil infusion next Thursday.  I will do one infusion every four weeks for six cycles, with the last one in February.  We will do a CT scan in November and again in February to check progress.  I have found that past chemotherapy has left my veins in terrible shape, so I will be required to have another port put in.  We are still unsure when that surgery will be.

 

"My heart is in anguish within me; the terrors of death have fallen on me.  Fear and trembling have beset me; horror has overwhelmed me.  I said, 'Oh, that I had the wings of a dove!  I would fly away and be at rest.  I would flee far away and stay in the desert; I would hurry to my place of shelter, far from the tempest and the storm.'"  Psalm 55:4-8

Back to School!

 

First Day of School 2012

 

Goliath--5th grade

 

Little Middle--3rd grade

 

Baby--1st grade

The 3 little cowboys and their proud mama

Summer 2012 in Pictures

Thanks to my iPhone, I have been able to keep track of Summer 2012 pretty easily.  The cowboys are headed back to school in just a couple of days, so--sadly--it's time to wrap it up.

Before we did anything else, we traveled to Austin so that all of my guys could meet Reese the Niece (and cousin).  We are all head over heels in love with this little girl!

We visited a wildlife park in South Houston.  We couldn't believe how close we could get to the animals!  The boys were thrilled with the tram ride and laughed hysterically when a very excited buffalo snatched the food bucket right out of Little Middle's hands and tried to chew it up.

Abby Dog had a great adventure waddling her geriatric self through the wet cement of my parents' shower during their bathroom remodel.

 

We played together, and spent a lot of time with our friends, too.

 

 

After months of consideration, I got my first tattoo.

I wanted a visible reminder of God's infinite grace in my life, which covers all things, including The Sickness.

 

We went to kids camp with our wonderful church.  Goliath went as a camper; the two younger boys and myself went along as "helpers."  In reality, we received many, many more blessings than we gave that week.  I loved being with my boys and watching them learn, play, and worship.

 

We tried our hand at farming.

We grew a small vegetable garden in the backyard, and we picked many peaches off of our trees.  Yum!

We had an adventure buying lumber (my first time) and then getting it safely home so that Goliath could build a fort.

We took a day trip over the state line to Turner Falls with our friends Jaimie and Emily.  Unfortunately, I do not have a single picture of myself slipping on the algae-covered rocks and dropping all of our towels and our lunch into the river.  My little cowboys will never let me forget it!

I love these silly boys!

 

We have managed to mark nearly everything off of our Summer Bucket List.

 

So long, Summer 2012.  It's been fun! 

No Place Like Home

I got to come home unexpectedly early on Monday night.  My sweet dad battled crazy Dallas traffic for over an hour, but it was well worth it when he delivered me to this:

Yep, those are my guys being glad to see me.  And me, sporting crazy hospital hair, even more glad to see them.

Within the first 12 hours of being home, I broke one of the many rules that Dr. F had laid out for me:  avoid the stairs.  I seem to think that I am younger and in better shape than what I am, thereby being exempt from silly rules.  All I can say now is that the boys better keep their rooms clean, because I will not be going upstairs to check on them for some time.

Speaking of keeping our rooms clean...did you know that if you are living under this roof and you are in the 10-and-under age bracket, you can earn real $$$ by keeping your room clean? We call it a random room check (or RRC, for short, per Goliath).  The RRC is the brainchild of Nana, who has moved in temporarily to do my jobs so I can rest and recover.  RRC is a big hit with my cowboys!

My mother....I want so much to tell you what it means to me that she is here in my home.  I want to tell you how I am amazed at how she keeps up with all the little boy laundry--something I am never able to do myself!--, keeps the kitchen spotless, and makes it all look easy.  I want to communicate how her unconditional love and sacrifice makes me feel like I am the most important person in the world and how her presence here comforts me.  I want to make you understand that The Sickness is just a part of the curve ball life has thrown at me this summer, and that she helps me navigate my way and feel hopeful that it will be okay.  I wish I could explain how my sons have security and even a sense of normalcy because their Nana is caring for them.  Words are simply insufficient.  I have been overwhelmed lately with what I have in my life that is abnormal and faulty.  But when it comes to my mom, I can't help but be overwhelmingly thankful, because I know that I have something in her that many people never get to have, and she blesses me beyond measure.

It is worth noting here also that my hospital stay ended just in the nick of time.  This was my second stay on the 9th floor at MCD, and I think that my familiarity entitles me to make customer suggestions.  My first suggestion will be that there be some sort of discount off the overall hospital bill for patients who are able to do awesome medical tricks, i.e. remove an epidural line that is inserted and taped to your back, or remove a 4-foot NG tube that was running from your nose down to your stomach.  Extra dollars off should be rewarded for doing it in the shower without being aware of it.  I will be looking for those discounts on my next statement.

Abby Dog's birthday quietly came and went while I was in the hospital.  She is now 14 and 98 years old (human and dog years, respectively).  I felt bad that she didn't get her usual family party, but maybe we can make up for it once I'm back on my feet.  Honestly, she is so geriatric that I doubt she missed it much.  The old girl remains my most faithful friend with the biggest ears.  Love her.

Goliath and Baby are delighted that the first day of school is fast-approaching--come on, Monday, August 27th!!--while Little Middle is mourning the summer days that are slipping away.  Thankfully, I listened to a smart friend last spring who has 3 boys of her own and offered me this advice:  "Buy the wrap packs, Allyson.  The boys don't care about the shopping.  Buy the wrap packs!"  School supplies will be there waiting on the first day.  Backpacks and lunch boxes were purchased before I went to the hospital. Nana is filling in the blanks and is helping the boys get their back-to-school style ready.  My Goliath has a definite idea about what a 5th grade boy's clothes should be; in one word:  cool.  Don't tell my mom, but I'm a little glad she is doing this shopping trip with him.  My mommy-heart might not be able to handle the coolness of my little boy.

Although he is younger, Baby is also making choices regarding his own style.  He is replacing his old athletic shoes with these:

Sniff.  So cute.  And grown-up.

My Little Middle, however, hates shopping.  He would rather eat a vegetable casserole for breakfast than have to be dragged on a shopping trip, even if it is for his own clothes and shoes.  In a nice arrangement that can only be made if your grandmother lives to make you happy, he has simply described to Nana what he wants to wear on the first day of school.  She is going to shop for him and bring it home.  He's happy because he doesn't have to go to a real store, and she's happy because she doesn't have to hunt for him in all the clothes racks.  Problem solved.

And while the family does their thing, I am carefully nursing my long row of abdominal staples and working to keep food where it belongs.  It's a glamorous life, I tell you.  It will be another week or so before I know any results from chemo sensitivity testing.  Until then, I plan to take it easy and soak up the goodness that surrounds me.  There really is no place like home.