St. Peter and the Quest for Wheat Toast

It’s day three here at Providence St. Peter Hospital and other than being hooked to an IV for 60+ hours and a desperate yearning for wheat toast, it’s not bad. The downside is that it looks like for the next 5-6 weeks, I’m going to be “The Joy in the Bubble” and we’re going to need a lot more help with the kids.

St. Peter, the Rock
I arrived here on Thursday night with a fever.  Because I’m now on the AC chemo regimen (a.k.a. the “red devil”) I’m at risk for low white blood cells and therefore infection.   The magic temperature that sets off action is 100.4.  My temperature was 100.5, so I had called the after hours resident on call at Seattle Cancer Care Alliance.  We were told to go to the nearest emergency room immediately so they could give me antibiotics. We headed out to St. Pete’s in Olympia, about 10 minutes from our house. As I write this, I’m feeling pretty fantastic.  However, at that moment, I was going downhill fast.  I was achy and chilled, my throat felt like someone had taken sandpaper to it.  I was grateful Josh came with me (my mom was home with the kids) and was looking forward to grabbing a prescription and heading home.

Au contraire mon frère. My white blood cell count was crazy low so they admitted me.  Poor Josh stayed with me until they found a room for me at 3 am and he still had to go to work on Friday. 

The next morning, an oncologist from St. Pete’s visited me and gave me the scoop on my counts. She also let me know that I would have to avoid raw vegetables and fruits that can’t be peeled because my system can’t fight the bacteria that might be on them.  Somehow, the hospital kitchen, “Cascade Cuisine…Excellence Through Compassionate Service,” interpreted this to mean I can’t have many foods, including raisins or wheat toast.

So, for the last couple of days, I’ve been holed up at St. Pete’s getting pumped with antibiotics.  The nurses and MA’s have been phenomenal.  It’s also been nice to get to know the oncology staff here at St. Pete’s.  I really liked the oncologist yesterday.  He gave me the skinny on everything, and then when I told him about my wheat toast ordeal, he seemed as annoyed as I was about the kitchen’s refusal to give it to me and entered a note into my dietary restrictions:

Patient not to have raw fruits and vegetables.  Patient may have all other foods including cooked vegetables, fruits with peels that can be removed, and wheat toast.

Apparently, he was also in the hallway grumbling something like, “And for goodness sakes, let’s let that poor woman order some wheat toast.”

Unfortunately, the power of a renowned oncologist only goes so far at Cascade Cuisine because this morning I tried to order wheat toast along with oatmeal and raisins.  All the meds can really mess up a system so it’s nice to have some roughage. 

“No, ma’am, I’m sorry.  It says right in the computer you are on a soft diet.  No raisins.  No wheat toast.”

“But, I'm not on a soft diet.  My teeth work fine.  I’m on a general diet, I just can’t have raw fruits and vegetables.”

“Talk to your nurse and call me back.”

Enter: my hero, Becky the RN.  Becky has some spunk and even as a kid used to get in trouble for sassing her teachers in Scotland.  I like her a lot.  She called Cascade Cuisine and read them the note on my file, the same note that is on Cascade Cuisine's computer screen.

“So, if it says she can have wheat toast, why does she need to have a conversation about it?”

Becky rocks.  I got my wheat toast while writing this blog entry.

The Joy in the Bubble

I’m headed home sometime today, but life is going to change a bit.  I’m still really susceptible to catching any little bug that comes along and it’s very dangerous if I get sick because my system can’t fight it.  This means I’m going to have to limit my time in public.  When I do go out, I’m probably going to have to wear a mask, especially during the window after chemo and before my white blood cells recover 10 days later.  I’ll be washing my hands profusely and dousing myself with hand sanitizer.  It totally sucks.  I don't like being such a delicate little flower.

Then, there’s the issue with our kids.  They are walking petri dishes, and they are mixing and matching germs with other walking petri dishes at daycare.  So, we might be pulling them out of daycare and keeping them at home.  We’re going to need a lot of help, especially because the AC chemo knocks me so far down that I won’t be able to care for them for several days after treatment.  

CALL FOR HELP: Any (healthy) friends out there who want to come to Olympia for a day to help with the kids, let me know. We’re setting up a calendar.

Fortunately, this happened during a time of year when people are typically antisocial so it’s not like we’ll be missing any parties or anything and people generally have copious extra hours of time on their hands to help us out. Oh, boo.  There’s always next year.  Except that I’ll probably be undergoing an 8-hour reconstructive surgery next December.  Okay, there’s always Christmas 2016. THAT Christmas is going to be phenomenal!

Thanks to everyone for their support.  I’d also like to send a special note of thanks to Denise McCroskey. Her own breast cancer blog helped me immensely and when I contacted her this weekend, she got right back to me with really wonderful words of encouragement.  You’re amazing, Denise!  Here's one of her posts about Adriamycin Cytoxan (AC).