The "Good, the Bad, and the Ugly" of the Weekend

The GOOD parts of the weekend: 

• The Carl Bloch art exhibit at BYU's Museum of Fine Art - so incredible, and so inspiring! Imagine gazing upon this qualify of amazing art work - most of it all the way from Denmark! This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
• The first time since her funeral visiting my mom's gravesite with Blake and my dad. It was a beautiful, clear morning - the perfect setting to look out across Utah Valley from the base of Mt Timpanogos - just what my mom would have loved! 
• Visiting with Heather and family in Logan. It was fun to see all the kids again, to enjoy a delicious barbecue on their new patio, and to watch a fun softball practice game with Blake, Heather, Jared, Em, and Josh. 

The BAD part of the weekend: 

• The mastectomy-expander infection site remains angry and red - even after 9 doses of Vancomycin (one of the "big guns" of antibiotics). How could that be? I am glad that I feel somewhat better, but I don't feel great, and I'm a little worried. I have until Thursday to get better. If no improvement, serious consideration for removing the expander - UGH! 

The UGLY part of the weekend: 

• As I woke up Sunday morning, I ran my fingers through my hair and came back with significant CLUMPS of hair in my hand. Yes, the great "fall-out" had begun - and soon my hair was everywhere! By Monday evening I had more scalp visible than hair. I asked Blake to shave the rest of it this morning - indeed, an act of love on his part! Well, it's not like I didn't know it would happen. Somehow, in the back recesses of my mind, I sort of thought I might be "exempt" from this part of chemo. Guess not. Oh well, I'm okay with it. The "ugly" part isn't the fact that my hair fell out - it's the look of my bare scalp. Thank goodness for lots of options to cover a bare head. I'll be ok - I know it will grow back. I hear it may grow back different, though. I'm hoping for purple and spiky! 

Polly – Meet Vinny!

On Thursday (May 22^nd) – I had a wonderful day! I felt like I climbed out of the 8 days of chemotherapy “haze" (aka "bleh"). I felt good and I had energy! I went to work where I accomplished some good things, went for a good walk around Research Park, then to 3½ hrs of choir to tape the last chorus for the new Messiah CD. I felt like a new woman after the "bleh" of the previous 8 days. It reminded me of the short January days in Utah when the valley is hugged in haze and smog. You are so weary of not seeing the sun or the blue sky. Then you take a "therapeutic" drive up to Snowbird or Park City – and somewhere along the way you climb out of the "soup," and there’s blue sky and sunshine . . . AH! That’s just how Thursday felt - and I was elated! I felt like I really could do this chemo thing. But alas, if there is a lesson I've learned lately, it is that cancer treatment seldom follows the most direct and outlined course. It seems to have it's own unique agenda! 

I woke up Friday to a temperature, a very red mastectomy-with-expander site, and just feeling sick. DARN! Another morning spent at HCI to check blood levels, evaluate the problem, and decide on a treatment plan: Vancomycin IV q12h for 2 wks - thankfully home therapy, not inpatient (except that I will miss the crab cakes at HCI). See what happens when chemo trashes your immune system? All sorts of bad, little germs get excited and revved up and start to "have their way" with you! 

Well, thank goodness for Polly the Port! She quickly came into service and continues to provide valuable access. I code-named the Vancomycin "Vinny." Thus, Polly meets Vinny! They are going to be close friends for the next two weeks! The home health nurse came last night and again this morning to show Blake and I how to hook up and run the infusion. It's pretty cool technology that makes it simple enough for almost anyone to give their own IV antibiotics twice a day. I just have to run around hooked up to a large apple-sized container of very expensive medicine. Now we're on our own to make it happen - with lots of instructions and phone numbers to call if we have a problem.

I already feel better today (YEAH!) - so we're off to Utah Valley to take my dad to mom's gravesite in Orem, then to BYU Art Museum to see the Carl Bloch art exhibit. 

The "Bleh" of Chemotherapy

OK - the day of chemotherapy wasn't too bad. In fact, I could see how people would be able to ride their bike to and from chemo, and how they could carry on normal activities that evening. I even spent that evening at choir for a 3 1/2 hr taping session. But ya gotta know, the storm clouds were gathering, and the barometer was dropping, the storm was approaching - things were about to change! 

I felt pretty good the next morning (Day #2) - good enough that I got up and went to work. I was a little shakey, and my bladder was ramped up to super-hyperdrive (annoying!) - but I was feeling pretty good and happy to be at work and happy to be productive. However, the storm clouds continued to gather . . . 

That afternoon, I went to HCI for my shot of Neulasta (the drug the stimulates your bone marrow to produce more white blood cells, as chemo has now destroyed them) - and then an errand on the way home. Somewhere between there and here, IT HIT: overwhelming tiredness, nausea, and general BLEH! I wasn't much good the rest of the night. I didn't make it to choir that night for taping (or any other night during the week, for that matter).

The next day (Day #3) was more of the same - just a whole big long day of it - and more intense! Thank goodness for good nausea drugs, some time off work, and a nice big recliner.  Now, in addition to the hyper bladder, and BLEH feeling, eating sounded like the worst idea in the world. Nothing sounded good, and everything tasted funny. Oh, and to add a little insult to injury, the Neulasta kicked in. Stimulating the bone marrow to rev up production means a deep, intense bone ache. I thought I was a little old for "growing pains" - but that best describes it: my sternum, jaw, femurs - they all ache. Well, maybe it's just old-age arthritis! 

The next couple of days have been more BLEH and achiness - but thankfully, much less than Day 3. So I suspect I see the pattern and how it will probably go for me the next three rounds of chemo. While it's tough and I don't feel great - I feel pretty lucky:
- The drugs help it to be manageable. They have controlled the nausea pretty well (no throwing up yet) - and the achiness gets better with pain meds.
- I know the achiness will get better (drugs are somewhat helpful) - and I'm glad to have a way to make new WBCs so I don't get too low
- I have a wonderful team at work who are doing a fabulous job so that I can take some time off work
- I have a very observant, helpful, experienced, and loving husband who knows what to watch for and how to help manage the side effects
- I still have all my hair . . . TODAY! (I know this is short-lived, though)

Chemo Infusion #1

Today was my first day of chemotherapy infusion. I must say - I have been pretty nervous about this day ever since the appointment was scheduled. But I am happy to report that it all went much better than I expected! 

Blake and I started the morning at Huntsman Cancer Institute at 9:00am with lab work. This was the first access using Polly the Port - and I'm happy to report she performed perfectly! Then there was a visit from the plastic surgeon to assess the expander and put more fluid in the expander and drain off yet another 35 cc of fluid from redundant areas - SHEESH. After that, a final visit with the oncologist and NP to go over expectations, instructions, etc. And finally, a walk down to the Infusion Center to get hooked up to the mega drugs that are supposed to seek out and kill nasty cancer cells! 

The whole day went very well - except for HCI's new computerized medical record system (just started a few days ago) - which made everyone, and everything . . . SLOWER! But it all worked out, and I was so relieved that the infusion went well, and I didn't feel bad AT ALL. (I hear that part will come in a few days.) In fact, Blake and I got some reading done, a little talking, I worked on email, and we had a nice lunch from HCI's Bistro. I hear the most likely symptoms will be nausea (which I am well-prepared for with a host of drugs) - and the almost-100%-guarantee that my hair will begin to fall out soon - UGH!

I had my hair cut short last night in preparation for the start of hair loss. I think it will help the "clean-up" and transition go better. I also found a couple of hats (with Blake's patient and understanding help) that I think will be ok. I've been kind of a stinker about the hat/scarf thing. 

Lots to be grateful for today! 

- everything went better than I expected
-  it's a beautiful spring day - the hills are so green and the sun is shining

- the opportunity to celebrate mothers just a few days ago (I had one of the best ever - thanks, Mom!), and the opportunity to BE a mother (thanks Andy, Heather, and Greg for being patient with me)

- a wonderful, knowledgeable, supportive, patient husband - Blake is THE BEST and I know I am one very lucky girl! 

- lots of great friends and family who are loving and supportive (more later about the amazing support from them at Susan G. Komen race last weekend)
- being able to go into this experience healthy and strong

I am truly blessed!

P.S. I apologize that this blog is not more "glamorous." I'm still getting the hang of it all. So pictures are a little ski-wan-pus. I promise it will get better!

Mom and Dad and siblings - Janet, Darin, me, Angela, and Heidi - Christmas 2013

Laurie and Blake - Top of Snowbird Tram - Fall 2013

What a good-lookin' man!

Greg, Andy and Heather - Thanks for making me a mom!

Brooke and Laurie at Utah Valley Half Marathon June 2012. And I hope to be able to do this again someday. 

Meet Polly, the Power Port

Today is Monday - and I started the week with another procedure at HCI. I had a Power Port inserted just below my left clavicle. This is a quarter-sized device that is implanted under the skin with a catheter attached that goes down through the juggler vein. This provides easy access for blood draws and IV infusions. This port will come in very handy when I start IV chemo next week. I think this new port will be "close to my heart" and with me  for several months. It has become my new best friend - so I gave her a name: meet Polly! 

This procedure is done using a combination of drugs to provide a little more than moderate sedation, but less than general anesthesia. Apparently, today I felt compelled to provide music for the OR staff. After waking up, I remembered something about singing scales in the OR. Afterwards, I asked my surgeon, and he confirmed that yes, indeed, I provided music

for the OR team by humming throughout the procedure! He said it was ok though, because they didn't have any piped in music today - and I filled in nicely. How embarrassing! See what good drugs do for you? Really, it's just hard for us 2nd sopranos to BE QUIET! 

Things to be thankful for today:
- availability of power ports
- a cheerful, supportive husband who got up at 4:45am today to be with me - and then went to work
- excellent, skilled OR staff at HCI
- the gift of music, and a song in my heart :-)

A Morning at the HCI Spa?

On Thursday (May 1st) I spent the morning at HCI "Spa" for a PET scan. This is an interesting study that is designed to identify if you have other cancer cells floating around or settled in other parts of your body. The idea is that you check in at the Radiation Dept. and they inject some kind of radioactive material that circulates throughout your body and would attach to any cancer cells within your body so that they would "twinkle" as you go through the scanner. The reason for the scan was to decide if chemotherapy would be helpful - or not. If there was "twinkling" - I would be considered a Stage 4, and no chemo would be helpful. Hm . . . 

So after the radioactive material is injected, you sit in a nice, comfy recliner swathed in warm blankets, in a darkened room, drinking your pina colada (ok, it's really radioactive contrast material that they tried to flavor as "wild berry"), and you're told to not read, play with your phone, and don't think too hard . . . just relax for the next 90 minutes! That is actually pretty hard for me. The only "spa experience" I missed was the massage! Then they come and put you in the scanner where you can have another relaxing nap for about 25 minutes (the bed not quite as comfy as the recliner). What a deal! 

Happily, the results of the scan are that nothing twinkled! That means I can move forward with chemo. So Monday I am scheduled to have a port-a-cath placed under my left clavicle. I hear it will become my "best friend." I am excited because this will eliminate difficult blood draws and IV starts. I have pretty paltry, pathetic veins (they used the one in my foot/ankle for surgery last month - but can't use that for chemo). I am scheduled to start chemo on Tuesday, May 13th: 4 rounds with 21 days in between. So sad - I'm starting to feel really good again - hate to mess that up!

But ya just gotta know. The best part of Laurie's Life is Blake, kids, and grandkids. What a great blessing! This is a picture from the 2014 Beckstrom/Larsen Family Easter Egg Hunt. What a blast!