Now What???

Way more tired than usual today. I had a very high fever and pain in my ribs which caused me to have to go to the hospital. Too out of it to blog about it today. I'll get y'all updated tomorrow.

Thanks for the prayers..

Breasts

I have two 6 1/2 inch (yep, I measured) scars where my breasts used to be. I'm really not telling you this so you'll feel sorry for me. Please don't feel sorry for me; I'd rather have those scars than cancer. It still amazes me that I went to the doctor for a simple thyroid problem and two month later ended up with these scars and no hair. Crazy. Seriously, crazy. I'm the type that goes to the doctor positive I have strep throat and the test ALWAYS comes back negative.

The other day Tom and I were talking about that phone call that changed my life forever. How I still dreamt about it. There are days the phone rings and I have flash backs to that call. I remember that call word for word; the tone in her voice as she told me I had cancer. I remember how I repeated back to her the word cancer and the expression on Tom's face when I said it. A breast cancer survivor friend of mine was horrified when she heard they told me the news over the phone instead of calling me into the office. I'm not sure I could have handled that. They don't usually call you in to tell you everything is ok, ya know? I would have known something was up and been completely freaked out until the appointment. There really is no good way to tell you you havce cancer, in my opinion.

That first office visit they tried to tell me all I really needed was to have the rest of lump removed. In the beginning Tom, my surgeon, my oncologist and a few other family members were all trying to tell me to go ahead with just a lumpectomy and chemo. I was never more scared of anything in my entire life. What if my surgeon missed something? Could I take that chance with my life? From the beginning I had something inside me telling me I needed more than a lumpectomy. Turns out it was God and I'm glad I listened. For those of you who haven't read my whole story, or who have forgotten - after my mastectomy they found a second mass in my left breast - a tumor that didn't show up on my mammogram or MRI.

So, here I am without breasts trying to decide if I should have implants or not. I don't have to have actual implants either - I can have the them take muscle and fat from my stomach to create breasts. From what I understand that is extremely painful, though. Plus they will create these neat fake nipples and tattoo on the aureoles. The nipples won't be responsive so I'll always look like I'm cold. I just can't decide what to do. There are times I don't mind not having any breasts. I like not wearing a bra. No bouncing when I run and jump (yeah, ok, I know they won't bounce IF I were to run and jump.) On the negative side: tight fitting t-shirts are out! I look ridiculous! And I have to worry about my weight and the fact that my stomach could someday pop out further than my chest giving me that potbelly look. We don't want that. Nope.

Next month I'm going to be 40 years old. I promise you before all this started I was completely unhappy with my breasts. I wonder if there are any 40 year old women (with their natural breasts) who love their breasts. Is there any woman who looks down in the shower and thinks "they're still soooo beautiful!". I know breast feeding two children was unkind to mine. Much thought had been given to someday having a breast lift. Women who have breasts that are large wish for small breasts; women with small breasts wish for large breasts. My wish is that I had mine back - just the way they were. Please don't tell me if that's what I wish I should have the surgery to get implants. Those won't be mine. Fake nipples and tattoos? Absolutely no feeling in my chest area? Yeah, people, totally not the same. I did the right thing having them removed, but I miss them. I mourn for them.

I don't usually write blogs like this. I much prefer to tell stories than to write about a random subject matter. But I needed to vent. Today I wore a tight gray t-shirt and decided I'd wear a sports bra underneath (I dunno why either) after a couple hours of doing the junior high bra pull down because there was nothing that was keeping the bra from riding up - I had to take the stupid thing off. It made me sad. While I know I'm not going to change anyone's life with this post, I hope you pause and think - at least for a moment - and be happy with what you have. Trust me it's better than nothing.

I can't end this without a story:

A couple weeks ago it was a beautiful sunny day and I decided I would take advantage of my beastlessness and wear a shirt that required no bra. I put on my spaghetti strap top with the build in padded bra. Problem was, without anything to pad the bra was gaping open and you could see my scars. After much consideration I finally decided I only had one option: stuff shirt with socks - and that's what I did. I used two big, fluffy, hot pink socks all balled up and it looked pretty good, if I do say so myself. When Tom and the kids got home they were most impressed by my new figure (they all noticed right away.) In fact, I was feeling so good I wanted to go out to dinner; so out to dinner we went.

I was in a good mood and I noticed a few people staring at me, as usual. Yeah, yeah, I have no hair - or maybe they were staring at my hot chest. I noticed the waitress kept giving me a really sweet smile. I did notice she was checking out my chest, too. You can tell I have cancer, and usually you can tell I have no breasts...maybe she was trying to figure out what kind of cancer I had. Or she noticed what I noticed on the drive home: one of my hot pink socks was falling out of my shirt. Classy!

Quick Update

I've not been feeling well - lots of headaches and very tired. Tomorrow I'm going to get back in the blogging swing of things!

Blogging Naked

This blog title was suggested by a wonderful woman/friend from my church. It's not as it sounds! I mean I am blogging and I am naked...wait - I guess it is as it sounds. But not for reasons you might think! Though who am I to know what you are thinking? For all I know you're thinking that I'm sitting butt-stark-naked in a bath of ice cold water while blogging because I can't get my hot flashes under control. Good call you! But you're only half right.

I started blogging naked long before menopause hit me. Naked blogging started when my muscles started hurting so badly after chemo that all I wanted to do was sit in a tub of hot water and soak all day. And so that is exactly what I started doing. I would read while I soaked. Sometimes (and never on purpose) I would sleep while I soaked. I finally figured out one day that I can make this a productive operation. The picture you see here is the set up I've done. Not too shabby, eh? (Pointing finger to top on my head...more than a hat rack my friends)

The menoblogsoak (TM Sheri) is still a work in progress. When a hot flash hits, I hightail it to the bathroom and fill my giant soaker tub full of cool water while I quickly move over my laptop, cell phone, house phone, ice cold drink, snacks and music. Spike, of course, supervises the entire operation by barking the whole time...I'm not sure what that's all about, but the system seems to work for us. After I'm completely set up in the tub, and Spike is locked out of the bathroom area - I get to work. Important items done first - figure out what bath salts to use (check!) Make sure entire body is wet by twirling in tub like a mermaid (check!) Wonder if I locked the bathroom doors so no one can see me twirling in tub (dang!) Stop twirling (check!) Daydream (check!) Think about what to blog (check!) Wonder how it's even humanly possible to sweat while sitting in a tub of cold bath water, but yet I am! (check!) Check facebook (check!) Check emails (check!) Check odd looking mole on knee and remember to ask doctor about it next time (check!)

Finally down to business. Or not. I'm tired of being in the bathtub now. I want to go to bed. Tomorrow - blogging in my jammies (aka blogging.)

Burnin' Love

Burnin' love is a sarcastic title. I've started having hot flashes. Hot flashes are no fun. Not only are hot flashes no fun for me, but they are going to be even less fun because of the trail of mayhem and misery I've left behind because of them. I'm not joking. Repeat. I'm. Not. Joking.

Oh, I hear what you're asking me now! I hear the questions such as: Oh, most precious and beautiful Sheri (you will call me precious and beautiful Sheri from here on out - jeepers it's hot in here - someone open a flippin' window! AAAAAAARRRRRGGG! I ask for so little.) I lost my train of thought. Oh! Right! You were asking me questions about how it could be possible that a very young woman who is only still in her 30's could be having hot flashes. Surely I can't be going into menopause, you ask.

You.

Would.

Be.

Wrong.

Freakin', stupid, chemotherapy has shut down my one last little remaining ovary and has thrown me into menopause. Thankfully I'm extremely moody to go along with having these wicked hot flashes. Example:

Tom: I'm leaving out of here, you want me to leave the ceiling fan on for you?

Me: (thinking to self: are you the only one in the world who gets to enjoy the breeze of a ceiling fan?) (says through clinched teeth): I'm having a hot flash...leave it on.

Tom: What's the difference between being hot and having a hot flash?

Me: (thinking to myself: usually I don't want to find a blunt object and beat you upside the head with it when you ask me questions when I'm just hot) (says through clinched teeth): one minute I'm fine and the next I'm sweating bullets so much so that my clothes are dripping wet.

Tom: Yeah, I guess that would be blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

Me: (thinking to myself: where is the closest blunt object)

Tom: blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

Me: (thinking to myself: I think the last time my underwear felt this wet was the last time I rode the log ride at Six Flags Over Texas.)

Tom: blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

Me: (looking around at items on table and wondering if hand lotion could be considered a blunt object)

Tom: Sorry you're feeling so poorly.

Me: (thinking to self: that was sweet of him to say...awww) Get! Out! (Geez, did I say that out loud or in my head??? Who cares!?!? How can one person sweat this much??????)

My Black Friday

Chemo tomorrow. This means no blog posts until the sickness calms down. I'm not sure it's any easier now knowing what to expect with each treatment. In someways I think it's tougher...

As He has so far - God will get me through this next very rough week or so. Then I'll be back with bells on.

Help!

All my wonderful cancer fighters out there I need your help! I've lost my sense of taste. Everyday it seems to be getting a little worse. I can no longer taste sweet - chocolate has absolutely no taste and my precious cheesecake tastes like I'm eating a stick of butter. Last night I couldn't taste anything on my supreme pizza except the olives (I hate olives!) and I can still taste sour. Is it possible to reverse this? I'm rinsing with salt water several times a day and brushing my teeth (and tongue) several times a day, too. When I was last at the doctor she confirmed that I do not have thrush again (thank God!)

Advice? Please? I think this is a side effect of Adriamycin (I'm taking TAC, but I believe it's just the Adria that is causing this...I could be wrong)

How I Cope...

Besides being asked how the children are handling my illness (they are great, thanks!), I'm often asked how I seem to cope so well with all this cancer crappola. There are a few days I fall apart, but mostly, I think, I just take each day as it comes. Of course, having a sense of humor helps greatly. After I get a treatment and I'm lying on the bathroom floor enjoying the feel of the cool tile on my face, I think of things that make me laugh. I thought I'd share some examples:

Ok, so here's what happened when we were getting ready to move to Olathe, KS from Topeka...

Our house sold to the first person who looked at it - which was the first week on the market. Tom and I were not prepared for this, so we started working like crazy people to get ready for the move. The worst part of the entire move process was going to be cleaning out our garage. It was an over-sized garage and while we both parked our cars in there, the backside of the garage was wall to wall junk. In Topeka no matter how much trash you put out on trash day the trash men would take it. We decided we had 4 weekends to throw as much of the garage junk away as possible.

I couldn't help much because the garage was just too dusty. But by the time the 3rd weekend rolled around, I realized Tom couldn't finish alone. I donned a dust mask, went out to help finish the nightmare job. As far as I was concerned, everything out there was trash. I paid little attention to what I was tossing quickly away. We worked the entire weekend and got up early on trash day to make sure everything was finally either packed or tossed.

After we finished, and heard the trash men in the neighborhood, Tom decided he had to leave to do some sort of important errands. I peeked out the window to watch the horror expressions of the poor men who were faced with a mountain of junk in front of our house. They took it all; squished it down and went on their way. About 5 or so minutes after the trash truck left I heard the most incredible explosion - it shook the house. Then quiet. Then the sound of firetrucks. I shrugged my shoulders and went about my business in the house...until I saw two very angry looking men walking up to my door.

Crap. They clearly were from the city of Topeka, and I figured they were coming to yell at us for putting too much junk out that past month. Nooooo... that was not why they were there. The conversation went a little something like this:

City Dude: (angry voice) Are you Mrs. Strickland

Me: (trying to decide if I have to answer this honestly or not) Um, yes?

CD: Mrs. Strickland did you throw pool chemicals away today?

Me: (remembering the bottles of pool chemicals Tom had shoved aside, but I tossed without thinking into the trash can.) Hmmm... I'm not sure I did, but my husband - who is not home - might have done that...

CD: Ma'am, you cannot throw something like that into your trash! The bottles opened and once the chemicals hit the water inside the truck they exploded.

Me: (jaw dropped and unable to speak) (at this point I step out of my house and look down the street to where they were pointing) (there was a trash truck being sprayed with water from one of several firetrucks, which was being filmed by many news crew trucks) I... uh... er... umm... whoa... uhhh...

CD: No one was hurt, thankfully, but you have got to be more careful!

Me: Absolutely! I'm so sorry. I didn't know...I mean, my husband didn't know. It was him. Not me. He's not home or he'd tell you he did it. Yep, he did it. Not me. Stop staring at me like that! Fine! It was me! I did it! I exploded a Topeka trash truck! I did it! Me! Me! Me!

CD: Just don't do it again.

Me: You have my word that I will never, ever, ever blow up another Topeka trash truck!**

The following week was our last week in the house and once again we put a pile of junk in front of the house for the trash men to pick up. I carefully peeked out the window when they arrived - I was fearful they would no long take our trash. They took it. But first they grabbed a large hose and sprayed everything down with water before picking it up and throwing it in the truck.

This was the same move in which the moving truck backed into the side of my van and Spike ran away. Moving into a beautiful new neighborhood with a dented up van and running up and down the street screaming for Spike while knocking on doors. We made a great first impression.

My neighbors are amazing. People actually brought us cookies while we were moving in. I want to give a Shout Out to my neighbor/friend Sonya for all that she's done for us since we moved in and especially after finding out I have cancer. I feel blessed to have moved next door to such an awesome family. Thank you!

**I've kept my word and have never again blown up another trash truck. In Topeka.

Tried But(t) Failed!

Last Friday I went to the doctor, because I felt it had been far too long since someone inspect my bottom while trying to make casual conversation with me. Actually, I was having bouts of pain returning. I was informed that a fistula and abscess can return once you've had them while you are going through chemo. Imagine my delight. No, really. Imagine. Gah! The Lord blessed me greatly! No sign of a new abscess! The pain I've been feeling is the original wound - it's not healed completely. In fact, the stitches aren't even dissolved. But no sign of infection!

The sporadic rear pain became, once again, a pain in my butt (so to speak.) Because my wound wasn't healed yet, they could not give me my drug trial med AGAIN. Part of the condition when you join the drug trial is that you will not go longer than a certain amount of time without taking the medicine. Because of my butt surgery, I had already missed two doses of the med (my drug trial med has a side effect of not letting wounds heal - therefore I couldn't take it at all until my bottom was all nice and healthy again.) Friday was my last chance to take the med or be kicked out of the program. I just wasn't healed enough, so Dr Young booted me out of the trial with her snake skinned, slingback, pointed toed, stilettos.

This trial was very important to me, as you will remember. For every other kind of breast cancer there is a drug that can be taken to block the hormone that feeds the cancer. Doctors still have no idea why I got breast cancer, because none of the three hormones feed it. There was hope that my trial med would be the drug that would prevent a return. The percentages for my cancer to return elsewhere in my body are far too high for me to think about most days. Now I'm out of the trial. Now I try not to live in fear. Now I turn this over to God completely or go insane. Insane-er? More insane-er?

This Friday is my next chemo treatment. The dread in my body is overwhelming, to say the least. Three treatments done, three to go. I close my eyes, hold my breath, say a prayer and trudge forward. No more lying down and digging my fingernails into the road while I'm being dragged along. I hate chemo, but I love my life.

It's All Good - Even When It's Bad

I had decided yesterday that I was going to take a break from my laptop. My laptop is my link to nonstop cancer. As you can tell, I've changed my color scheme on my blog page. I got tired of the pink ribbons. I'm tired of all pink things. I'm tired of the musician Pink. (She wrote a song rubbing her ex-husband's face in the fact that she's a rock star. Maybe he was such a lousy husband because all she would do was talk about how she was a rock star and he wasn't.) I'm tired of cancer and all things cancer related.

Taking a break from my laptop probably isn't something I'm going to be able to do. But I am burned out. I have several chemo side effects that are keeping me from going out and frolicking in the sun. Truth be told, yesterday I had decided it was time to just quit chemo. I have a tired that has set in my body and taken control of my life in a way that is impossible to explain. The only people who know what "it's a tired you've never felt in your entire life" means are the ones who have had chemo. I decided before I announced to my family and doctors that I was quitting chemo, I'd test the water with one of my closest friends. The conversation went EXACTLY like this:

Me: After much prayer I've been thinking maybe I'm not going to finish my chemo treatments.

AB: Why?

Me: The side effects are more than I can handle. I've lost my sense of taste; I've got sores in my mouth; my muscles hurts, but especially the ones in my legs - making it extremely painful to walk; my eyes burn, itch and are swollen; and the pain in my rear has returned.

AB: I'm not going to tell you what to do, but you're not quitting chemo.

Me: But all my side effects?

AB: Suck it up - you're half way through.

Me: Ok, but I am going to take a long break from writing in my blog.

AB: I'm not going to tell you what to do, but you're going to keep writing in your blog, because it is extremely insightful and people want - no, people NEED to know how you're doing. Your blog brings joy to millions around the world. Your BFF Kelly thinks she's the smartest woman in the universe, but she's not - you are. People depend on your blog. You will not let them down, Sheri.

Me: FINE! I am going to stop checking my facebook for a period of time.

AB: I'm not going to tell you what to do, but you are going to continue checking your FB. You've reconnected with a lot of old friends and they are praying for you and love you.

Me: (Sigh) All right! I'm having spicy mexican food for dinner tonight.

AB: I'm not going to tell you what to do, but...

Me: I'm standing my ground on this one! Goodbye!

Anyway... I'm not quitting chemo - I'm just frustrated that time isn't going more quickly. This past weekend I asked Tom to get me out of the house. I knew I didn't have the strength or energy to do anything except go for a drive, so that's what we did. It was Sunday and the weather was beautiful. We passed parks and walking trails. I watched people jogging and couples holding hands while walking along. It sent me into a deep self pity. I wanted to be walking outside enjoying the spring temperature. I stared at the people knowing that they weren't even appreciative of doing something as simple as walking outside. I wallowed in my self pity: rolled around in it for hours on end. It took a lot of prayer to snap me out of it. I can now think about the people walking and instead of feeling jealous, I feel happiness that they are able to do something as simple as go for a stroll. It's impossible to be grateful for everything you have and can do; there is way too much we take for granted. If I continue to focus on the positives that have come out of this instead of the negative side effects I'm having, I'll get through this much easier.

Today I'm not going to focus on the fact that I have some major gastric/intestinal issues going on, I'll focus on how bless I am to have indoor plumbing. Mexican food was not a good idea. A good friend would have warned me.

Thanking Pigs

A few days ago I took a nap (side thought: I used to volunteer at my children's school... basically, doing grunt work that the teacher's aids were above. One of my jobs was to staple together several pieces of construction paper in a manner that it looked like a book. The kids would write their own stories about things they have done. When I would hideout take a break in the teacher's lounge, I'd read through a few of the books and there was this one kid's book that read:

Page 1. I

Page 2. took

Page 3. a

Page 4. nap.

Lazy work about being lazy. A fine American.) Now back to me....

I woke up from my nap feeling pretty crappy. I had shaking chills and a pounding headache. Panic set in. If I had had the energy I would have jumped out of bed and ran through the house waving my arms like the kid from Home Alone screaming "I have swine flu! I have swine flu!" I checked my temperature and slid down the stairs to break the news to my dad that I was dying of swine flu. My dad rummaged around til he found another thermometer and took my temperature again. 101. Yep, swine flu.

I called Tom at work and he said he was on his way home and for me to be ready to walk out the door...we were going to the hospital. I can't just show up at the hospital, I have to call and inform them I'm coming...which Tom so kindly did for me ( I couldn't call them cause I was too busy dying of the swine flu, ya know.) My oncologist office called me after talking to Tom and told me under no circumstance was I to set foot in the ER. She went on to explain that ERs are packed with people right now thinking they have swine flu. Those people are stupid, but I am not because I really did have the swine flu. The worst place I could go with a fever is the hospital - they were so overcrowded and full of germs. It was a guarantee I was going to pick up 27 other animal named diseases just by showing up. I was stunned. It was a few day after my chemo treatment and I couldn't go to the hospital? I wasn't allowed? This was crazy. Here's how it works:

1) Go to hospital every third Friday feeling fine and receive poisonous chemo.

2) Go home and throw up for at least 3 days.

3) Sleep and whine as much as humanly possible.

4) Wake up with fever.

5) Go back to hospital to be admitted for a week.

6) Leave hospital with fun butt stories to blog about.

7) Repeat 6 times.

Now they were going to tell me I wasn't allowed near the hospital? I'm supposed to just take my antibiotics at home and NOT have anyone poke at my butt? That's crazy talk.

This blog is dedicated to every hypochondriac in the greater Kansas City area. Thank you.

Also, it should be noted that I do not now, nor have I ever had the swine flu. But I insist I am still smarter than everyone else who thought they had it, but didn't.

Aak!

Short post.

Did get my chemo today, so I'm chocked-full of nausea fun.
Today is also my little man's birthday. My Jacob turns 8. How could this have happened? He wasn't supposed to grow up. We celebrated yesterday since I will probably end up throwing up all my internal organs tonight. No one wants to party with a gal who has no internal organs. It's true. Look it up.

Blogging For The Fun Of It

Nothing new on the cancer front, really. I'm tired all the time. There seems to be something going on with my legs, because they hurt worse than any other part of my body. Going up and down the stairs is oh-so-very painful. The legs and all other body pain I can handle ok now that I got my rear-end fine tuned. The tiredness doesn't bother me as much as it used to either and I finally figured out why: I like sleeping. Sleeping makes time go by quickly and I want time to fly. I want this to be over. I love doing anything that causes me to lose track of time. Anything that doesn't cause me to think about how uncomfortable I am.

My days are pretty quiet now. I've sorta withdrawn from the family the last few weeks or so. At first I thought it was depression, but now I know it's not; it's purely me unable to concentrate on anything. I have a tough time focusing on conversations or television shows. One of the few things I can do is read. I seem to have no trouble losing myself in a book. So, that is how I spend my time - reading and sleeping. Blogging is tough because my fingers ache. They're stiff and sore, so typing can be a bit rough. I'm used to sitting down at my laptop, saying a prayer about what I'm going to write, then quickly typing my thoughts out. When I type slow like this I lose focus a lot.

The topic of this blog is really vampires. I didn't realize I loved vampires so much until I read the Twilight books. Why did I read the Twilight books, you ask? I know, not my normal style of book to read! Blame Allison and my cuz Princess V. Allison had been BEGGING to see the movie Twilight (alllllll the kids in the whole world have seen it except her.) I didn't know anything about the movie (yep, I'm that lame) I only knew it was rated PG-13 and she is 9. I've seen some rough PG-13 movies and I like to preview them before unleashing them on my children. I had no way of seeing the movie, but my wonderful cousin had the book set! And she let me borrow them! Because she loves me! And I can't blame her!

The Twilight books are about a (SPOILER ALERT! STOP READING NOW IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO RUIN THE BOOKS FOR YOU! yeah, whatever, I know everyone knows this already, but I always wanted to type SPOILER ALERT! it makes me feel important. you know, like I know things you don't) vampire! But he's a good vampire. I'm going to stop here for a moment...I know there are a few out there reading this that are shocked that I read these books. I'm not going to defend my Christianity. I'm not. I'm good with God. They're just books. Regardless, I'm not letting my daughter read them. She's too young. Soooo...I thought I'd check out the movie. I mean, geez, if every kid in the world has seen this movie but her, how bad could it be?

I wasn't thrilled with the ending of the movie. I feared it would give her nightmares, but her friends had already told her everything about said scary ending. Ok, she could watch the movie with me. We settle down to watch our movie - just the two of us and halfway through Tom starts watching it, too. He kept looking over at me and mouthing the words "this is stupid". I would give him the most mature reply I could think of by mouthing back "you are". I blame my steroids for the hostility.

So, the movie is over and all is well -I thought! All was well with Allison anyway. She didn't seem to be scared. Said she LOVED the movie. Now when Allison said she loved the movie, this made Tom unhappy. The movie is about (SPOILER ALERT!) a vampire who falls in love with a young girl who isn't a vampire and he does his darn best not to kill her. That's romance, folks. Tom was upset that his daughter now has the impression that it's ok to date a killer vampire... even if they PROMISE they won't kill you. He said it's too dangerous.

Allll righty. I'm the one that allowed her to watch the movie, so that means I'm the one who has to put the rule in place that Allison is never allowed to date vampires. I get so tired of always being the bad guy.

Crack In My Diagnosis Pt 3

It's Easter and as promised Dr. Graham showed up at the hospital to examine my hiney. I told him how last month I was in the hospital with a high fever and sore rear; how they told me at the time it was a fissure and the fever they weren't sure about - maybe the only thing causing it was my low white blood cell count. Dr. Graham was suspicious, but said little before my exam except that it's really not possible to feel a fissure. He seemed to think the last butt doctor I saw in the hospital was merely guessing.

I was rolled over into butt exam position...drawers dropped...humiliation galore..."is this it?" POKE! And he knew exactly what it was, what was going on with me and how to make it better.

I'm going to stop there for a moment. I figure since I'm being so honest here, I'll go ahead and really humiliate myself. That exam - that horrible, horrible exam. Because there is nothing more embarrassing than having someone poking at you bottom and asking questions, I felt the need to make things as wickedly humiliating as humanly possible for myself...

Now remember all day Saturday and Sunday I was in nasty pain. Wonderful Dr. Edwards had given the thumbs up on as much pain medicine as I could handle. The pain meds were able to halt any diarrhea that may have happened from the antibiotics. In fact, the pain meds tried to make it so I'd never poop again. Ever. EVER! Soooo much discomfort. I told my nurse that I've got a bottom full of poo that absolutely will not come out. "No problem, Sheri!" and off she scampered the get me three different types of laxatives that I took all at once (I'm not kidding!) The sad part? They didn't work.

Sunday night rolls around and I'm full of laxatives that aren't working and I'm due for a butt exam. I didn't see how this was going to go well. I looked down at my distended stomach - said a little prayer and rolled over for my exam. You know how when you blow up an air mattress and the air stays pretty much inside even when you don't have the valve closed? But if you touch the valve a little - just the slightest bit of pressure - the air will come rushing out? Either you understand what I'm trying to say or you don't; whatever the case I'm not going into anymore detail for you.

The exam was rather quick (I'm not sure if that's the norm for him, or if my free flowing air rushed him along.) But he let me know, in no uncertain terms, that the other doctors had been wrong. I did not have a fissure. The lump on the outside of my bottom was an abscess. While he couldn't see the inside, his guess would be that I had another abscess or worse inside my rear. He explained that abscess was shooting infection throughout my body which was causing my fever. He said they were wildly painful and couldn't believe I'd been living with it as long as I had. Dr. Graham was ready to operate on it right then and there.

He explained what the surgery entailed; how the abscess was full of infected puss that needed to be drained. The only thing that would have made that moment any better would have been if I had been eating a bowl of tapioca pudding. Gah! He said once he had the thing drained I would feel soooo much better. While I wanted the thing fixed as quickly as possible, having surgery right then and there wasn't possible. I needed to make sure that Dad, Tom, and the kids were taken care of first. It seemed to me that it would be easier for everyone if I had the surgery the next morning while the kids were in school.

7:30am Monday and I'm ready for the pain to be over. In and out of surgery! I'm back in my room by 10:30am. It was clear, after the surgery, that I was wrongly diagnosed. I never had a fissure. What I had was a large abscess on the outside and an even larger fistula on the inside. I'd never heard of a fistula, so it was explained to me that it was something you do NOT want. My fistula was started from an untreated abscess that was deeeeeeep inside my butt area (you know...the part where poop comes out.) My untreated abscess formed a hole in that super sensitive area of mine. The hole welcomed germs and all kinds of other guests. They weren't happy to just sit there either. Nope. They thought they should see the world! A tunnel was formed. Apparently, it was quite large, too. Abscess drained and fistula closed and stitched up.

I'm a new woman! I may not be able to have my next chemo treatment on time now. Dr. Young gets to examine my bum on Friday and decide if the area is healed enough for me to receive my poison. If I'm not healed, I'll be delayed a week. A part of me wants it delayed, but another part doesn't. I'm sooooo stinkin ready for chemo to be over.

Crack In My Diagnosis Pt 2

Saturday April 11, 2009

8am, in my room and I'm being poked on by numerous nurses. They were focusing so much on my nausea that my bottom pain was being left untreated. My ointments (which were better than nothing) were at home - along with all my pain meds. No problem, right? I was in a hospital! They have all kinds of fun medications there. I told every nurse that came near me that my butt hurt. I needed pain medicine! Every nurse would check my chart and tell me the same thing...E.R. Dr. Doogie didn't write any orders for pain meds. I needed more reasons to dislike Doogie!

It was when the nurse came in with an IV bag full of strong antibiotics that I just about lost it. I knew my body well enough to know that bag was about to kick start some pretty serious diarrhea. The mere thought of what was about to happen to me without my meds had me close to clawing the eyes out of everyone that came near me. Tom was at home - he had left at some point in the middle of the night. I was all alone and feeling helpless.

My white knight came in the form of an awesome doctor by the name of Dr. Edwards. I've not one bad word to say about her (I know! I'm as shocked as you are!) Dr. Edwards is the hospital doctor and was in charge of taking good care of me. She wouldn't allow anyone in my room unless they were wearing a mask, gloves and booties over their shoes. I'm serious! There would be no further germs touching me in that there hospital - not under the watchful eye of (trumpets blasting) Dr. Edwards! (And the crowd goes wild! Woot!)

Dr. Edwards came in my room in an attempt to talk to me about my stomach virus. Can you imagine? I wanted no part of that discussion! I cut her off and told her that I had a fissure in my butt that was on fire. I pleaded with her to help me. She left my room, returned very quickly with a nurse and a shot for my IV. Oh yeah! AHHHH. Sweet relief. We were then able to talk about my tummy issues. I did have a fever but it was pretty low grade - hovering right around 100 degrees. This seemed to concern her, so she let me know she was going to keep me until the next day.

Saturday night was horrible. Even with the shots and the pain pills that Dr. Edwards prescribed, I could not get my butt pain under control. Something felt worse than normal, too. There was a fullness deep inside that was getting worse and I could feel a lump on the outside. I thought I was imagining it. Maybe the pain and all the pain meds were just making me crazy. Of course, feeling lumps everywhere on my body is pretty common now-a-days anyway. But the lump that I felt in my rear seemed so real. Out of desperation I swallowed my humiliation and told my nurse what I felt. I needed her to tell me there was nothing there. I needed her to tell me she felt no lump and it was all in my head. I needed her to look at my butt to see if she saw a lump.

I rolled over, slid off my undies and she saw it right away. She wasn't happy just saying she saw it either. Good heavens, no. Apparently if you see a lump on someone's butt you must also poke it and ask "is this is?" POKE! As she peeled me off the ceiling I was able to mumble yes. When shift change came, the night nurse told the day nurse about the lump she had seen on my rear end. Day shift nurse asked if she could see it too. Yeah, sure. "Is this it?" POKE! A couple hours later Dr. Edwards comes in. "Is this it?" POKE!

Dr. Edwards said she knew of the greatest butt doctor to ever walk the earth and would be contacting him right away. It was Easter Sunday so I figured I wouldn't see him until the following Monday...it gave me ample time to freak out about the butt lump. How wrong I was. I was told Dr. Graham would be in that evening to check (and poke!) my lump. In the mean time, the hospital had called in an infectious disease doctor. He was only supposed to care about my fever and stomach problems.

Sigh...what was one more "is this it?" POKE!

Tomorrow: Dr. Graham and the exam!

Crack In My Diagnosis Pt 1

I realize people aren't perfect. As often as I'm seeing doctors now, you'd know that not every diagnosis is going to be correct. I just didn't think so many doctors would be wrong about the same thing though. No, no, no, no, no, I still have cancer! But I am getting ahead of myself. You have to read my entire hospital story to find out what I'm talking about...

Friday April 10, 2009

2am I hear this: Mommmmmmmmy! I need you! I don't feel good!

It was Jacob and he had managed to throw up all over the bathroom. Unfortunately, he did it the same day my white blood cell count bottomed out. I hated it, but I had to stay away from my sick little man. Tom had to get up and clean the bathroom and take care of my baby boy. Oddly, I never heard any bathroom cleaning going on. I got up to see if we had gotten a self cleaning bathroom at some point - and...NOPE!

I trod downstairs and question Tom about when he might get around to cleaning the vomit that covered the bathroom door, floor, toilet, and wall. Tom said he had asked Jacob if he made it to the bathroom ok and Jacob said he had. Well, yeah, I guess technically he did - but just not into the toilet ok. To his credit, Tom did a fairly good job cleaning (I checked) he just forgot the bathroom door - so I thought it wouldn't hurt if I washed that up quickly myself before I crawled back in bed. I did wash my hands after I was done.

I'd been feeling ok all day. My only issue was the pain in my stupid butt. I had called Dr Young and told her I just couldn't take it anymore. The pain meds weren't working, nor were the creams. I needed something stronger for my fissure! She wrote me a script for morphine. 9pm I was throwing up. I wasn't sure if at first if I was sick because of the morphine or if I had caught Jacob's stomach virus. The worse I felt, the more I was sure it wasn't the pain pills...I was sick. My temp would never get above 100 degrees, but I called my doctor anyway and explained the situation. She told me to go to the ER and get checked - just to be safe.

You know you're a mess when you get to the hospital and are known by every ER nurse on duty. My favorite nurse Jen came out of the ER to get me when she saw my name. I love her. She's the one that was too scared to use my port - therefore was made fun of by another nurse when she put an IV in my arm. This time Jen wasn't going to be so lucky. My other favorite nurse was there that night too...Jason. Jason was a wonder-nurse with ports. He decided he would teach Jen how to prick a port. Jen reads my blog. (special secret message just to Jen: IT'S OK! NO ONE IS PERFECT! I'VE NO IDEA WHAT WENT WRONG, BUT YOU'VE GOT TO STOP APOLOGIZING AND FEELING BAD...SERIOUSLY!)

Any-o-hoo, the IV got started in my port after a couple efforts and in walked my ER doctor. The first thing you'd notice about my doctor was the insane amount of product the boy (yes, boy) used in his hair...the second thing you'd notice is that his name badge didn't say Doogie Howser - but it should have. He took the most thorough medical history of any doctor I've ever had. In. My. Life. But he wanted to make sure you remember he was very smart and a doctor. Example:

Doogie Howser: I'm your very smart and handsomely coiffed doctor today (flashes smile to prove almost all his adult teeth have grown in). I'm going to ask you 500 questions even though the answers are right here in my chart, mmmk?
Me: Sounds like a hoot.
DH: Let's get started, Mrs Strickland. First...when was the last time you h.a.b.m.
Me: Huh?
DH: (sighs) Last time you had. a. bowel. movement.
Me: I threw up a little in my mouth the last time you spoke...does that count?
DH: Do you have a history of h.d.h.b.p.c.t.a.e.w.y.m.o.o.s.w.y.l?
Me: Huh?
DH: (sighs and rolls eyes in disbelief that he would have to spell it out) You know... history of heart disease, high blood pressure, cruelty to animals, eating with your mouth open, or snorting when you laugh?

Somehow we made it through the questions without me walloping him (I was not in a great mood.) He ordered every lab known to man and left. When he returned he looked nervous and no longer sure of himself. He told me my white blood cell count was low - in fact he'd never seen anyone's so low before. Wow, none of his three total previous patients had low white blood cell count. Amazing. He genuinely had no idea how to treat a cancer patient. I made him extremely nervous. So what does a doctor do when he gets nervous? He admits you into the hospital. And that's just what Doogie did!

Because I have to have a special germ free room, I couldn't go right upstairs. My room had to be made ready for me and that was going to take a few hours. I was exhausted and so was Tom. My wonderful nurses were going to put Tom in his own little room in the ER and let him sleep while we waited, but he refused. They were kind enough to switch me from one of the little ER beds to a normal hospital bed so I could sleep comfortably while I waited. See why I loved these nurses?

8am my room was finally ready. I had no idea when they wheeled me upstairs I was going to be in the hospital for an entire week. I missed Easter with my family. It was a truly rough week. Part 2 tomorrow...

I'm Back!

Last Friday Tom took me to the ER for what turned out to be a slight virus. I just got home today! I had surgery Monday morning and am feeling better now than I have in a month. Right now all I want to do is relax with my family. I promise to blog-o my hospital stay starting tomorrow.

Yayyyyy! I'm home! Thank you, God!

Pain

It's almost 5am. I am going to take some time away from the blog until I can get out of chemo fog before I post again. The pain is keeping me awake. The pain is everywhere... it starts at my scalp and wraps itself around my neck, down my shoulders, deep into my spine and continues to move down my body. It has worked its way deep into every fiber of my being. I almost start crying because of the pain and self pity, but the tears hurt my eyes. The cure to my cancer is to literally have life sucked out of my body. Right now I wonder why I'm keeping this blog. Do I ever want to look back on this and relive it?

Chemo Sucks

Seriously! Chemotherapy sucks. I'm now going through the dreaded days after a chemo treatment again. I've read stories of women who never skipped a beat while going through chemo and radiation. Never missed a day of work. Me? If I'm not whining while lying on the couch, I'm whining with my head in a toilet or trashcan, or I'm whining while my butt is on the toilet.

I don't mean to harp on this subject time and again, but this still seems unreal. How did I end up with breast cancer? I wish God would let me in on my purpose for having this horrid disease. Pity party! Table for 1, please!

Anyway, short post tonight. As you can imagine, I'm too sick and tired to make a post. Pray tomorrow will get better. Most of my day today has been spent asleep. If there is anyway I can continue with this routine, you can rest assured, I will.

Good night and here's praying for a better tomorrow.

F.A.Q. Part 2

These are seriously some of my most emailed questions:

Hi Sheri! You have a beautiful head! I had no idea how perfectly shaped your head was until all your hair fell out. Speaking of your hair falling out...do you just lose just the hair on top of your head?

(this is my most commonly asked question at the moment) The answer is no. I will eventually lose all the hair on my body. While I'm not unhappy about not having to shave my legs for a few months - I find it hard to be that happy because I get in the shower and have no hair to shampoo. You can't imagine how weird it is to get in the shower and lean your head back in the water - you know, like you're going to wash your hair. But there is no hair there. (Habit.) I still use shampoo to wash my scalp though. I wonder about why I do that. Who knows. My next big sad moment will be when my eyebrows and eyelashes fall out.

When you finish chemo, are you going to have radiation?

Nope.

Why not?

I don't need it. As far as the doctors are concerned, every bit of my cancer was removed when I had my mastectomy. I also didn't have any cancer found in my lymph nodes. Radiation is not needed when there isn't a tumor to blast or no concern that some cancer was left behind. The doctors believe they got all mine. Hey! They've never been wrong before. Trust me...nothing to worry about.

How do you stay so strong through this?

Please feel free to ask me the names of the friends and family I call so that I can scream, cry and whine to them often. These are the people that might raise an eyebrow at how strong I am. I do fall apart. It ain't pretty.

I've heard you talk about a port or port-o-cath several times. What is that?

My port or port-o-cath was surgically put in place at the same time I had my mastectomy. It's in my chest close to my right arm pit area. It feels like a little plastic piece under my skin. The nurses poke a needle into it and clamps it down in order to give me my chemo meds which are fed to me through an IV. They didn't have to give me a port, but it makes life easier on everyone if I do have it. This way I don't have to have an IV put into my arm each treatment. Also, the chemo meds are really harsh and could tear up the veins in my arms. I posted an old picture I took of me with my fingers around my port.

What do you do while getting your chemo?

Nothing much. My main job is to sit there while they feed me the 3 chemo meds plus my drug trial medication one at a time, one after another. Last time I slept for awhile and I texted with friends on my phone. Basically I sit in a chair for 4+ hours doing nothing - so I do exactly what I do when I'm at home, but hooked up to an IV machine.

I feel so helpless to help you. How can I help?

You're perfect. You are reaching out to me and showing you love me. You're thinking about me and praying. I couldn't ask for more than that. Unless you want to come over and clean my toilets. I'll warn you now, though, Jacob seems to have one serious aim issue. What the heck is up with that? It's a huge target and he's close to it!

Can I do a fund raiser for you?

That is sweet and thoughtful, but not necessary. I'm very blessed with very good medical insurance. We have a yearly maximum out of pocket and we are able to cover that. I really thought this through and decided to have my cancer detected in January. Hopefully by the end of this year, this will all be a distant memory. I know you want to help, but really all I need are your prayers.

How soon after you get your chemo treatment do you start getting sick?

Pretty quickly. Couple hours. Last time I was wishing I had taken a barf bag with me for the drive home.

How long are you sick after your treatment?

Last time I was sick about 2 weeks and this third week was me whining about my fissure more than anything else. I feel certain y'all didn't get tired of my complaining about my torn anus.

There is a button and link on your blog now that says Mothers With Cancer. What's that all about?

I am so glad you asked me that! That is a super wonderful website called http://www.motherswithcancer.org/ and they have asked me to be a contributing writer for them. I've not written anything yet, because I've been too busy flipping out these last few days about my next upcoming chemo treatment. But I will get it done and hope you pop over there to read some of the other posts by these fantastic women who, like me, are mothers with or who have had cancer.

I love you!

Yeah, that's not really a question. But I love you, too.



P.S. Mad props to my cousin Valerie H. for bringing me the most perfect butt tube to sit on. I could actually sit up today without screaming in pain. She brought me other wonderful stuff, but that tube gave me such great comfort, I thought she deserved a shout out. More mad props go out to my dad who was the one who could figure out how to blow up that idiot thing. Val and I looked pretty stupid. It was tougher to blow up than you think, ok?