I had a fine day yesterday, considering that the previous day was one of my worst days so far.
I took all my medication, I've really lost count to what I take anymore, and went downstairs to help with the housework. David was already at the basement cleaning. He has asked to clean the basement and the garage all by himself so that he can earn money. He's worked really hard the past few days. I'm very proud of him.

Alex from across the street came by and the boys played for a while. I went to check on them and we started talking about them liking girls etc. Surprisingly they had all kind of questions for me and they seemed to appreciate the advice. I had to try hard not to laugh with some of the things they asked, but I'm glad that my son trusts me enough to reach out and talk to me about what's on his mind. We spent the rest of the day together, hanging out, watching TV, looking up things on the Internet and reviewing the movies he makes with his friends. The last one, a spoof on all those ghost shows that are popular on TV lately was hilarious.

Today I woke up early and I had enough energy to start painting Natalie's room with Brian. I took all the stuff out of the room, covered the bed so that it wouldn't get dirty, wiped the walls clean, did all the spackling and painted one of the walls. Of course after all this I got pretty tired and had to stop in order to rest, but thankfully William came and took over so now we have only 1 wall left to be done with the room. I have many new cute things to put in the room, so I'm excited to have it done before the kids come back on Tuesday. I can't wait to see Natalie's face when she sees it. She'll be so excited!

The rest of the day went by calmly. My right arm is really killing me. The big bruises are fading, but the spot where I got the lost chemo is red, inflamed and incredibly sore. Brian put some cortisone on it and then we bandaged it very lightly. It feels a little better now.

I took my strong pain pills not too long ago, since the spine throbbing pain is back again, so I've just started getting a bit dizzy. I'll try to go to bed. I want to wake up early tomorrow so I can hopefully go to church.

On Monday I have an appointment with my breast surgeon. I'm hoping I'll find out the date of the surgery. I'm anxious to move on to the next step. But then again I'm scared. I try not to worry about it too much, but I can't help it. It haunts my thoughts. Every morning I wake up thinking about it. I wish I could fast forward to the end of all this, but I know I need to hang on.

I'm praying it will be a better day tomorrow, with less pain and less things to worry about.

Hope

I had my last round of chemo about a week ago. I still feel lousy. There are a few things though that brighten my load. Everytime I think about a symptom I experience I know that it might be the last time I feel knowing that it's related to the poison that runs through my veins.
My mouth hurts, it will be the last time, my hips ache, it's the last time, everything that has been holding me down these past 5 months of treatment, will slowly fade away, and hopefully never come back.

I'm having a rough day today, so I can't really write much, but I feel a glimpse of hope as I count the days and I realize that as they go by I can look forward and not anticipate to feel like this or worse in a few weeks again. It can only get better, right? I can only pray to keep this hope.

Round Six-How to be a pin cushion

That's it then. My last chemo treatment was yesterday. Not the most pleasant experience, I have to say. I guess they saved the worst for last.

I had an appointment early in the morning. My doctor was on vacation (again) and I saw one of his nurses. Everything seemed to be OK.

I went on the 3rd floor and got situated in one of the private rooms. A few minutes later my nurse came in ready to hook me up on the IV. I asked not to have the IV on my hand, since I still have a scar there from last time, so she would try to find a spot on my forearm. Here comes the trouble.

She started poking me with the needle, but as soon as she tried to thread the catheter, my vein would make a little blister that looked ready to pop and literary push the catheter out.
She tried a new spot, the same thing happened. She told me that she would have another nurse try.

A new nurse came, tried to put the IV in, same thing. She tried again at a different spot, nope. By that time they decided that I must be slightly dehydrated and that's why my veins were reacting that way. I started drinking water while the nurses decided to call their manager.

A young girl came in. She decided to switch arms and try my right one. She pushed the needle in and tried to place the catheter, but right there in front of our eyes the catheter was pushed back out. She tried again, on my wrist this time. Same thing. She stopped and looked at me "We will have to call somebody else" she said with defeat in her voice. Another nurse came in. She looked at my arms that had already started to bruise. "I'm so sorry! Your arms look like pin cusions!"
"Don't worry about it" I said, "let's try to get this IV in." She opened a new needle, this was the seventh one, and tried. This time it really hurt. She tried to push back when the catheter was being pushed out, and she was finally able to do it. She taped it in place and they started the saline drip right away.

I had to wait for another 2:30 hours until all four bags of medicine were out. I usually read while waiting, but this time I just slept. I was so exhausted!

When it was all done we drove home, and by that time both my arms looked purple blue. But somehow I didn't really care. It was over! This was my last treatment. I have to go back in three weeks so they can check my blood count. I already have an appointment with my breast surgeon scheduled on the 3rd. I guess I'll find more about the surgery then.

I had the Neulasta shot this morning and I've been in bed since I got home. I took a nap and watched TV. It's after 9:00 and the day is gone. Another useless day gone by. I know I have to rest, and I don't really have the energy to do anything else, but at the same time I hate wasting an entire day like this.

I have so many thoughts running through my mind. On the one hand and I'm so grateful I have people to listen to me and help me through this difficult time, on the other, I know that when it comes down to it, I'm on my own on this one.

I pray and take it one day at a time. Day after day.

Another long day. I woke up this morning and Brian had already gone to work. I didn't even hear him wake up! I went downstairs and cleaned the kitchen. After I was done I really had nothing more to do. I sat there on the couch doing nothing at all.

I could sense the danger. If I were left to my own devices I would probably start going down really fast again. So, I decided to make some more bracelets before Joleene and Debbie came, just to keep my mind occupied with something less troubling and time went by relatively fast.

They came to see me sometime in the afternoon and it was nice to spend some time with them. It feels good to be able to talk to friends freely about what's going on. I like to see them treat me the same way they used to. They don't look at me as a sick person, at least that's what I hope.

Yesterday we went to church. At the end of the sacrament meeting the bishop came to greet us. I asked him if he had a minute for us to talk to him some day and he replied that he would be glad to talk to us right then. We went to his office and talked for about 20 minutes. There were a couple of times that I found it hard to keep it together. His eyes looked so worried and I was very emotional, but I didn't cry. I never do. After we talked to him I felt relieved. It was the right thing to do and I regret not doing it sooner.

By the time we left church we had talked to 3-4 people about it. It was interesting to see people's reaction. From total disbelief to utter sadness, or plain curiosity. I assume that by the end of the week a lot more people will know. That's how it usually goes.

I felt exhausted when I came home, mostly emotionally. I had never talked to so many people about my cancer before. I felt overwhelmed. I went to bed and took a nap. When I woke up I still felt tired and a little sad. So many things ran through my mind.

I try to escape, but I'm my worst enemy. I get pulled back by my own fears and worries. It's hard to see the bright side of things, especially when there's really none. I have so many hard decisions to make, none of them will get me out of this. I just have to accept things and move on, but it's sometimes hard to have hope and without hope there's really nothing.

I'll keep trying.

I've had a poem stuck on my mind all day. One of my favorites by K.P.Kavafis. Here's a translation.

CANDLES

The days to come are standing right before us,
like a row of little lighted candles -
gold, warm and lively little candles.

The bygone days are left behind,
a dismal row of burned-out candles;
those that are nearest smoking still,
cold candles, melted and bent.

I don't want to look at them; their sight saddens me,
and it saddens me to recall their former glow.
I look ahead at my still lighted candles.

I don't want to turn around, lest I see and shudder
how fast the darksome line grows longer,
how fast the burned-out candles multiply.

I met with Dr. Baar yesterday and he was great! He's very nice and he gave me lots of hope. He told me that it seems like I respond very well to the treatment, he reassured me that I've been doing everything right so far, and that what comes next is up to me.

After he examined me he told me that the tumor has shrunk so much that I could just have a lumpectomy and not a mastectomy, if I choose to. I told him I don't ever want to have to deal with this again, so he agreed with me that the safest way to do this is to have a mastectomy.

He already has 17 women participating in his research, ( I couldn't start now since I have to be done with all my treatment first to qualify) but now he's starting a group of another 20 in January that will be his second group. He told me I'm a good candidate for that, and that in a way it will be better because he will already have some first results from the fist group and he'll know what to avoid, or change.

I had a great experience there. Everyone was so nice and efficient and the enviroment was so relaxing. I felt I was in good hands the entire time. I'm so glad I went and I had the opportunity to see how really good doctors who care can make a difference to their patients. You don't see that every day.

On the way to Cleveland. Listening to Brian’s melancholic music, a deeper look into what really touches his heart. I find myself drifting into unpleasant thoughts. Ever since I got the big envelope with all my x-rays, CAT scans and MRIs I feel like someone tied a huge boulder around my neck and then pushed me overboard. I’m looking at it and think that my death sentence is sealed inside it.

I looked at the scans and I could see the tumor clearly. I could see my body in slices, every little detail there for strangers to see. I feel violated. People I don’t even know scrutinizing my insides, my entire body on a tray in slices, offered to professionals in hopes they will find things that are wrong, organs that are malfunctioning. No sense of privacy, everything out in the open…

I think we only have an hour left. I’m tired and my back is starting to hurt. I love Brian’s music.

Unfortunately I haven't been feeling very well lately. The chemo has taken its toll and I have much more nausea this time. The pain in my bones is unbearable and I just hate that throbbing pain in my spine. My blood count is really low, it gets lower after every treatment, and I feel exhausted all the time. Even getting up and down the stairs is a big task for me these days.

The bright side of course is that I only have one more treatment left. Sometimes I wonder if I'll be able to make it! Brian asked me this morning "I wonder what's so special about having 6 treatments? Why not stop at 5 or go up to 7?" I told him "I think it's because you die at 7", and I really mean it! I don't think my body can take much more of this poison anymore.

I’m leaving for Cleveland on Thursday to see Dr. Baar for a second opinion. I really hope something good comes out of this.

Click here to find out more: Dr. Baar on abc

I came back from Arizona on Monday night. The flight was OK, not as bad as the one going there a few weeks back, when I felt pretty lousy right after my chemo.

I was hoping to go to sleep early, but that didn’t happen, of course. I woke up early the next morning in order to go the hospital for my new MRI. I decided not to take a sedative, so I was a little nervous that I would have a panic attack or something. It turns out I did just fine. It helps when they tell you how much time each scan takes. I was counting seconds in my head so it wasn’t that bad. This time my back didn’t hurt when I got up and there were only women around so I felt more comfortable being exposed.

I came home and tried to rest. It was disturbingly quiet. I miss the kids. The day went by as expected. I felt tired and I tried to get some rest until it was actually time to go to bed and I couldn’t.

I woke up early again the next morning. This time I had to go to the clinic for my chemo.
It was busy and my regular doctor was not there. I showed the nurse the bruise that I got after my last treatment. It extended all the way up to my elbow, following the path of my vein and there’s a specific point somewhere in the middle of my forearm where it looks and feels more like a burn, probably from the chemicals that went in. The nurse took a picture of it, but nobody told me anything about what I’m supposed to do to get rid of it.

Today I went to the clinic again for my Neulasta shot. My blood count was pretty low, even lower that last time. I can’t wait when all this is over. I’m going to see a new doctor in Cleveland on the 10th, the one who’s doing the clinical trials for a new vaccine for triple negative breast cancer patients. I will get a second opinion and see if I qualify for the research he’s working on.

After that, I’ll have my last treatment on the 24th and a few weeks after that I should be ready for the surgery. I’m worried and scared. I have a long recovery ahead of me, and I’m worried I might not have the help I need to go through this. Am I doing the right thing? After all I have to live with this decision for the rest of my life, however long that is.

I’m tired and I feel sick. I want to try and take a nap but I think our neighbors are having a party and there’s loud music coming into my bedroom. It’s frustrating. I’ll put some earplugs in my ears and I'll try to get some sleep.