I have come through this because it was God's will. And the hope and prayers and support from my family and friends have helped keep my spirits up and my mind healthy while by body heals.
Thank you.
My mom gave me this quote at the beginning of my treatment and it brought be a lot of comfort.
Joshua 1:9
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Thursday, July 19, 2012
For like 30 sec. I thought I might die.
I've never been short on drama and yesterday was no exception. IT WAS MY LAST CHEMO TREATMENT!!!! Yeah, yeah, holy cow, big fricken yeah! Marcia and I were smiling ear to ear as we climbed in the car for the last time. We did our Wednesday morning lab routine with a twist. Instead of simple coffee and tea at Dunkin' Donuts, we upgraded to Ida's Cafe, an adorable breakfast and lunch joint with delicious French Toast and Eggs Benedict. We felt like treating ourselves for all the time she and I have put into fighting this damn cancer.
All was well with the world until 2 pm. Kerri, my 28 year old fellow patient, was celebrating her last treatment too. So fun! She made two delicious batches of cookies. I bought a pint of ice cream at Turkey Hill. (Baking's not my thing. Using my debit card at quickie marts is more my thing!) So we toasted ourselves and patted each other on the back and vowed never to come back to the chemo room for chemo. Maybe just to see Kristin - but that's it!
I was asleep for a bit. The 50mg of Benadryl does it to me every time. Then it got interesting. Out of nowhere I start feeling weird. I think you feel weird a lot when you're on chemo. If I have a nose bleed, I blame chemo. A headache, chemo. A pimple, must be chemo. A bad hair day ... well those don't happen anymore ... because of chemo. You get my point. But this was different.
If you are going to have a small crisis you need two people by your side: Kristin and Dr. Evans. It was Kristin who looked right at me and asked, "Are you okay?" I wasn't but I couldn't even articulate exactly what wasn't okay. So after she prompted me, all I said was, "I'm feeling really weird."
If I said that to my sisters they would laugh and balk and say you've always been weird. But Kristin (despite her being one of three girls and having the same sense of humor my sisters have) was on it in two seconds. She said you're having an allergic reaction to the Cisplatin, the chemo that was dripping in. As my symptoms got worse, Kristin sprung into action. She stopped the chemo immediately. Asked me all these questions. Could I breathe? Did my throat feel like it was closing. No. I could breathe but I was getting a little panicky. For an instant, I was like, this is it, something is suddenly terrible wrong. My face felt like it was burning, I was dizzy and all of a sudden terribly nauseous. I felt like I wanted to throw up but couldn't. My belly was cramping and I knew I never felt like this before.
Krisitn gets Dr. Evans who was on the phone. She said, "Come quick. Well, finish what you're doing, but come quickly after that." That part makes me laugh. All I remember was Dr. Evans sitting right next to me, talking to me, asking me questions, checking my pulse, monitoring my breathing. Simultaneously, Kristin pumped in some more Benadryl, 100mg this time - double the dose I got in the morning. They started some fluids and said that would help too.
The women explained it would take a little bit for this to subside because it would take a little time for the Cisplatin to dilute in my system. I had to go to the bathroom. Afraid to leave me alone and because of the benadryl I was walking like a drunken sailor, Kristin came with me. She's seen enough of my ass cheeks already, what's the difference if we tinkle together. I sat back down in my barcalounger, calmed down and then promptly passed out from the drugs. I woke up about 20 minutes later a different person. I wasn't being called to the bright, white light. I was alive and well albeit a little groggy. These women saved the day yet again.
So, yes. I'm done with chemotherapy! I'd do back flips if I had the energy. In great Meredith fashion, I went out with a bang. Crisis averted. Moving nowhere but forward.
All was well with the world until 2 pm. Kerri, my 28 year old fellow patient, was celebrating her last treatment too. So fun! She made two delicious batches of cookies. I bought a pint of ice cream at Turkey Hill. (Baking's not my thing. Using my debit card at quickie marts is more my thing!) So we toasted ourselves and patted each other on the back and vowed never to come back to the chemo room for chemo. Maybe just to see Kristin - but that's it!
 |
| Yeah! Last day of Chemo! Hurrah! |
I was asleep for a bit. The 50mg of Benadryl does it to me every time. Then it got interesting. Out of nowhere I start feeling weird. I think you feel weird a lot when you're on chemo. If I have a nose bleed, I blame chemo. A headache, chemo. A pimple, must be chemo. A bad hair day ... well those don't happen anymore ... because of chemo. You get my point. But this was different.
If you are going to have a small crisis you need two people by your side: Kristin and Dr. Evans. It was Kristin who looked right at me and asked, "Are you okay?" I wasn't but I couldn't even articulate exactly what wasn't okay. So after she prompted me, all I said was, "I'm feeling really weird."
If I said that to my sisters they would laugh and balk and say you've always been weird. But Kristin (despite her being one of three girls and having the same sense of humor my sisters have) was on it in two seconds. She said you're having an allergic reaction to the Cisplatin, the chemo that was dripping in. As my symptoms got worse, Kristin sprung into action. She stopped the chemo immediately. Asked me all these questions. Could I breathe? Did my throat feel like it was closing. No. I could breathe but I was getting a little panicky. For an instant, I was like, this is it, something is suddenly terrible wrong. My face felt like it was burning, I was dizzy and all of a sudden terribly nauseous. I felt like I wanted to throw up but couldn't. My belly was cramping and I knew I never felt like this before.
Krisitn gets Dr. Evans who was on the phone. She said, "Come quick. Well, finish what you're doing, but come quickly after that." That part makes me laugh. All I remember was Dr. Evans sitting right next to me, talking to me, asking me questions, checking my pulse, monitoring my breathing. Simultaneously, Kristin pumped in some more Benadryl, 100mg this time - double the dose I got in the morning. They started some fluids and said that would help too.
The women explained it would take a little bit for this to subside because it would take a little time for the Cisplatin to dilute in my system. I had to go to the bathroom. Afraid to leave me alone and because of the benadryl I was walking like a drunken sailor, Kristin came with me. She's seen enough of my ass cheeks already, what's the difference if we tinkle together. I sat back down in my barcalounger, calmed down and then promptly passed out from the drugs. I woke up about 20 minutes later a different person. I wasn't being called to the bright, white light. I was alive and well albeit a little groggy. These women saved the day yet again.
So, yes. I'm done with chemotherapy! I'd do back flips if I had the energy. In great Meredith fashion, I went out with a bang. Crisis averted. Moving nowhere but forward.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)