Lost at Sea Due to AC

I’m now in week 17 of 20 weeks of treatment.  Or, put an even better way, I just had my second to last chemo infusion yesterday.  HOORAY! I have finished 12 weekly treatments of a Taxol cocktail and now 3 every-other-week treatments of AC, with only one more to go.  I’m so excited to be done with chemo, even with surgery, radiation and reconstruction ahead.  The AC regimen has totally kicked my butt, so I’m looking forward to finishing it and getting back to my old self.

The best way I can describe how it feels is being lost at sea and hanging onto a piece of driftwood.  I get the AC infusion (yesterday it took about 4.5 hours) along with a steroid, so I feel sort of okay for a few days.  Maybe a little disoriented and hyper – like I’ve just been thrown from a ship but I’m buzzed to be alive.  Then, after a couple of days, when the steroid wears off, I enter very dark, very stormy waters.  I’m nauseated, I hurt, I can’t think, and I’m barely able to get out of bed.  I literally have dreams of drowning.  There are moments here and there when I come up for air, but mostly I’m plunged into chemo hell.  After a few days, the storm subsides and I’m left exhausted, just drifting.  It’s at this point that my white blood cells are dipping to their lowest and I have to hope that I don’t catch anything since my system is unable to fight infection.  Usually during this time I start getting awful sores in my mouth and throat. Around day 10, I start coming back to normal.  It’s like the sun comes out and a boat rescues me and for three or four days, I try not to be too dazed because, well, I still have work to do.  So, I madly try to cram all of my writing for my consulting business into the days when my brain is working.  Then, I go back to Seattle Cancer Care Alliance, and they (very kindly) throw me off the boat and into the AC sea again.

Only one more treatment left.  January 15. I just have to get through the side effects of the treatment that I received yesterday, then the next treatment, and I figure by the end of January, I can start feeling “normal” again, at least until surgery. Happy day!  Thanks to all of the wonderful friends and family who have been helping us get through this patch and others who are signed up to help us in the coming weeks.  We have the kids home right now instead of daycare to reduce the amount of new germs coming into the house. That has meant extra help since I’m stuck in bed for about a week at a time now.

To name a few of the people who have stepped in selflessly and with an abundance of love and support: my mom, my in-laws Sharon & Bob, Aunt Catina, Uncle Dave & Aunt Mary, my irrepressible friend Penny, the lovely Emily, sweet Juliana and more to come.  Thanks also to my cousins Jeb & Kathy and to Taiece for visiting me during chemo. Thanks also to everyone for the kind cards, emails, texts and PMs.  I do my best to get back to you, but, well, if I’m getting swallowed by waves of chemo, I hope you can understand.  And finally, the kids and I would be truly lost without Josh.  Thank you for being our rock.  I love you.