Feeling Like a Tomato Queen: Total Junkie

I have a lot of intelligent friends and family members. Like a bajillion. And they ask intelligent questions. You know the old saying, "There are no dumb questions, just dumb people." Well, I don't get to experience that, because I am surrounded by smart cookies. But when they ask me questions about my treatment plan, I am the one that appears to be about as sharp as a butter knife because I don't know the answers. Even though I have a Masters Degree in Reading Education, I refuse to read about the details. (And yes that was a humble brag about having a Masters Degree. Just for Tia.) I discovered that whenever I started looking stuff up about my condition, there wasn't always pretty news. So I quit. Plus, it is way more fun to read bat $h*% crazy facebook updates from someone royally ticked at their girlfriend's stepdaughter's uncle and Us Weekly magazine articles that keep me abreast of the Blac Chyna/Rob Kardashian pregnancy. Important stuff.

However, I don't want to end up looking like Miss South Carolina Teen USA 2007, and give intelligent questions answers like this.

http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=Miss+teen+USA+dumb+answer&view=detail&mid=C45300DE2BDAD3781722C45300DE2BDAD3781722&FORM=VIRE

So I cracked open the blue cancer patient education folder that I should have received at my cancer patient class. But I didn't get to make it to the class, because, well, my port surgery did not go well as planned. But that is another story for another post.

My plan of attack starts with 20 weeks of chemotherapy. For the arithmetically challenged, that means 5 months. I will be done with chemo in the middle of September. I had my first treatment on April 13 in the morning. Before I had any chemo my white blood cell count was 8.1. I don't know if that is good or not. I'm not a nurse, or a doctor, or a foctor (fake doctor) like my brother, Kurt. A week later it was at 2.2 and I had me a case of Neutropenia. A fancy name for low white blood cell counts that made me susceptible to sickness and infection. This meant wear a mask and no hugging people. I was about as good at following those rules as Johnny Manziel is at staying out of bars. Whoops. But how do you tell people to stay the heck away from you when they already have their grizzly arms coming at you for a bear hug? Its hard!

I have 8 weeks of heavy hitting chemo every other week. Then it is 12 weeks of every week chemo. I am a young, strong, whippersnapper, so they are juicing me pretty good. My oncologist, Dr. R. says that they are not just trying to "prolong my life, they are trying to cure me." And then he basically told me that I needed to suck it up, that I'm strong. Some good advice.

The drugs I am receiving over the next 20 weeks are :
Taxol--the side effects I have from this are mouth sores, joint and muscle pain, and low blood counts.
Cytoxan, Neosar--I think this is the stuff that makes me feel super tired and weak
Aloxi--for nausea
Emend--for nausea
Decadron IV--for a buncha stuff. too much to list. But really because I don't know.
Adriamycin--I love this one. Because the first thing it says is "This drug may cause very bad heart problems like heart failure. Sometimes these heart problems will not go away or may be deadly." I suppose this is why they do the EKG before they give it to you! Good thing I have a strong ticker!
Neulasta--This sucker looks like a container of floss that they stick to my belly. After they stick it to me, I get a shot after 3 minutes. I then keep it on for a couple days and it releases medicine to keep my white blood cell count up.
Zofran and Xanax--pill forms for nausea. My insurance will only cover 12 Zofran a month. This is a problem. Because I need a heckuva lot more than 12 a month. I take 3 a day. So I have just been paying out of pocket for the rest. The good news is that my pharmacy is at Target. And Target is like going to the spa. Without kids.
Dexamethas--this is a steroid pill I take on days 3,4,5 after chemo. I'm guessing it does something important.

The majority of these drugs go through the port in my neck. And they take this freezing juice to numb it before they pump you full of drugs. It doesn't hurt, and I won't have junkie track marks in my arms. So that's a plus! I am sure I am forgetting a bunch of things and could write lots more, but I have to get my 7 year old to circus contortion class in about 15 minutes. Yes. That's a real class. And yes, she is very good contortionist. So let's all say a prayer that she ends up more Cirque du Soleil contortionist than the....other....kind......

And these are some pics from my uber talented friend, Miranda Lawson of Miranda Lawson Photography. And you betcha she got busted for taking pics in the chemo room. But she's a rebel like that.