Toxin Tuesday: Who's in?!

Apparently, since I have no memory, my sister reminds me that I basically spent my months in remission drunk. She has the pictures to prove it.  Looks like I had a good time.

I never thought that I would have to start chemo so soon. I actually didn't think it was in my cards until years down the road.  But I did.  I started treatments after my 'F*ck Cancer' party, which rocked by the way.  So, the cocktail of choice was Abraxane/Avastin.  The schedule of treatments would be once a week for three weeks, and one week off. 

The side effects include: an allergic reaction (including difficulty breathing; closing of the throat; swelling of the lips, tongue, or face; or hives); decreased bone marrow function and blood problems (extreme fatigue; easy bruising or bleeding; black, bloody or tarry stools; fever or chills; or signs of infection); liver damage (abdominal pain, yellowing of the skin or eyes); or severe nausea, vomiting, or diarrhea; numbness or tingling; or irregular heartbeats; tissue or vein reactions near the site of administration; low red blood cell count; joint or muscle pain; sores in the mouth; hair loss; or mild to moderate nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, or loss of appetite.  Oh there's more: dizziness, fainting, nosebleeds, bleeding gums, weakness, loss of appetite, heartburn, change in ability to taste food, diarrhea, weight loss, dry mouth, sores on the skin or in the mouth, or voice changes.  What?? You want my digits? I am one sexy bitch!

These two medications cause all of these lovely side effects, but you don't know which ones will pick you.  It's hard to believe that something that causes that much hell is supposed to make you better.  Before treatment, the nurses go over all the side effects and then tell you, you will lose your hair. Which I thought at the time was the least of my worries, come to find out, it was the hardest side effect to deal with.  They are really accurate about when you will lose it too, about 2-3 treatments in.  Bingo!  Summer vacation at the shore. 

It doesn't come out in clumps, more like sheets of hair fall out when you comb it.  It's actually pretty devastating.  I called my friend in a slight panic to come in the bathroom with me for moral support!  But if you have a perfectly shaped head like me;), it's all good.   

Within a week, it got super creepy and I had bald spots and my hair was really thin.  So I decided to buzz it.  That night I went to the Warren County Fair (nuff said) and fit right in.

Fast forward through remission....that was boring.

Get a box of tissues ready. It came back.

When I start to get pain in different areas of my body, it is pretty much a sure sign that it has spread, again.  Since I don't have an actual tumor anymore it is harder for my doctor to track the intruders.  In order for my doctor to see where the 'hot spots' in my bones are, I have to get pet scans.  This time around I also think I got an MRI, but since I am a total slacker cancer patient and can't remember ANYTHING (cancer card accepted here), I obviously can't remember, but a funny story nonetheless.

So let's schedule an MRI to see if the cancer in my upper back isn't pinching/attacking any nerves.  Remember NO metal, take out all piercings.  I didn't tell them I am claustrophobic, because I think I'm cool, it will be a breeze.  The nurse comes in while I am waiting and goes over my chart.  Out of her mouth comes, "You are too young and pretty to have cancer!"  Yeah, no shit lady! Thanks! 
Lucky for me, this MRI comes with an injection, yay!, more radioactive crap in my body!  No shit, I was in the MRI machine for 2 HOURS.  In case you didn't know, MRIs are HORRIFYING.  They give you earplugs to block out the sound(and by sound I mean, painfully loud unpredictable banging), yeah....NO, that doesn't work.  And I get a little emergency button to push in case I have a nervous breakdown while in the machine.  Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts. So about an excrutiating hour in, I have to pee, the machine picks up metal on my body, and  I need to get the contrast injection. The technician comes in to ask me where the metal is, I don't know, it was on my sports bra, sorry. Well, now I've pissed him off. Wait until I tell him I have to pee!  So I tell him I have to pee, he gets all bent out of shape because it's going to mess up the pictures.....well buddy, I have cancer remember!  So *F* your pictures asshole!  

Another fun test to get is a pet scan.  This one is only about 20 minutes.  You get injected with radioactive material as well for this one, this can't be good for your body.  Before the test you have to drink 2 giant-sized (I may be exaggerating a little) containers of barium sulfate.  Let's see.....how does one describe barium sulfate?  Pick a flavor: gross, gross or grosser!  I mean banana, berry or the newest flavor, vanilla!  This substance is like nothing you have ever experienced before.  It is thick, chalky goop.  You can try putting it in the fridge and drink it with a straw, but you will gag no matter what.  The best part is, there is a time limit!  You have to drink one bottle in an hour and then 1/2 of the second bottle before the scan and 1/2 after the scan.  The technicians like to make you feel as uncomfortable as possible by staring at you while drinking it.  No pressure!  And you wonder why I can't eat bananas anymore.........

The scans show that the cancer spread to my left hip, sternum, upper back and probably other places (slacker cancer patient can't remember).

Hope you are enjoying your summer so far because you are about to start chemotherapy.

Did that really just happen?

Sooooooooooo, now that you're hooked and Zack is out of the picture.......

I am on 2 different kinds of medication, zoladex and tamoxifen.  My tumor, hold the phone!, what am I saying, my?, yeah I like to put it on a leash and walk it.  THE tumor that is trying to take over my body, is estrogen receptive, meaning it feeds off of the estrogen in my body.  I imagine that there are little pacmen or pacwomen munching on my womanhood. So one medication blocks the estrogen from the tumor, while the other medication makes my body produce less estrogen.  Don't worry, I won't turn into a man.  With this magical concoction of medications, the tumor disappears! What?!?  By October I was in remission, oh I said it, REMISSION.  I even bought pink frosted donuts for people at work, how obnoxious is that?

It literally was like it NEVER happened.  Phew, having cancer is a breeze!

"Hi, nice to meet you, I'm breast cancer, I mean, I'm Carla!"

As much as you wish having breast cancer doesn't take away your identity, it does, for a little while at least. I don't ever want it to define who I am and I don't want to be known as a survivor. Uh, that makes me gag. It happened, it sucked, hopefully this shit will be over soon, let's move on.

It took over a month for me to transition from a wheelchair, to a walker and eventually to crutches.  During that time, I received many visits from friends, family, nurses, and ex-boyfriends and I built a damn good dvd collection.  My sister would run out to Lucky's 50% off sale and buy me some desirable items.  I got a pretty sweet wand that would magically make her do all sorts of things. By the time it was my birthday, I was ready to leave the house, looking somewhat presentable.  Well, if you consider presentable wearing my coke bottle glasses and jeans that are falling off because they are too big (when has that ever happened??).  I was ready for a beer people!  I was able to "move" back into my bedroom because I could walk upstairs and I was feeling good! Not really, but it was a good effort. 

I went out for a beer with my sister.  I was also at the point where I was completely comfortable with dropping the "C" bomb.  If somebody asked why I was walking with crutches, they got an answer: I have cancer.  At first I felt bad about making people feel uncomfortable, but then I decided I was way more uncomfortable than them, so I'm sure they could handle it. 
While we were out drinking, which for me turned out to be about 3 sips and I lasted maybe an hour. Happy Birthday.  We met my sister's now fiance and his friend.  They innocently asked what happened, referring to my crutches.  Boy were they in for a surprise.  My standard answer, "Oh, I have breast cancer. It spread to my bones and completely deteriorated my hip." Awkward moment of silence to ensue. I didn't realize it then but it was empowering to have a control over people's emotions after the blow that I had experienced where I had no control over my own feelings.  Making people stop in their tracks was cool, but I wouldn't say it was a smooth ice breaker.

For about a year, maybe longer, after I was diagnosed, I would somehow fit 'breast cancer' into all of my conversations.  It was pretty much the only thing going on in my life, consuming, what else was I supposed to talk about?  I even went out on a date 3 months after diagnoses. Luckily, the kid I went out with was recovering from almost becoming paralyzed after drunkenly, playfully attacking his friend in a closet.  His luck was worse than mine. We never went out again.

I almost felt and still do at times (after I was walking again), feel like an inadequate person with cancer (cancer survivor if you must), since I show no real physical signs of being sick and I still have both my breasts. What a tease!

"I just wanna poo-oo-oop."

Want to know the fastest way to lose weight?  Catch cancer.  I have been on every type of pain medication you could imagine.  I often wonder how the addicts do it on Intervention (best show ever by the way).  My body, as we have seen from my morphine episode, usually reacts pretty violently to any narcotic.  I was on a pain patch that is specifically designed to absorb through your skin so you don't get nauseas.  Good effort people, but I would vomit literally every other day when I had to switch my patch to a new one.  Now, it wasn't the kind of 'I drank too much vomit' or 'I have the flu vomit' but an 'oh, pause, pause, pause, I think I am going to be sick, pause, pause, pause, can someone get me a garbage can?, wait, wait, wait, oh thanks, vomit.'

The radiation on my hip did not magically heal me.  It took about 6 weeks for it to do the job.  While I was waiting oh so patiently for it to kick in, I became very close with my walker.  My friends and I would joke about decorating  it or bedazzling it, or adding a basket to it........we never did, but I just recently had to use it because of side effects from chemo, does anyone have a bedazzler?
After my early morning doctor's appointments, my parents and I would go to the diner for their second breakfast, primetime for the senior citizens.  Those bitches would blow by me in their walkers!  It was embarrassing, nevermind the fact that I was 26 using a walker.

Along with all of the awesomeness that has happened so far, I had well, I am just going to say it....poooooooooop issues. Who doesn't want to talk about poop?  While in the hospital, since I didn't eat, I hadn't gone to the bathroom for a week.  My doctor suggested I take magnesium citrate, a liquid that tastes like carbonated lemon lime sludge.  As directed by my doctor, you only need to drink a LITTLE bit.  I was pretty desperate to go and was a little panicky about what would happen to my body if I didn't poop for so long.  Have you ever thought about that?

I got a glass, drank a little and was ready for the fireworks! Nothing happened.  I was encouraged by my father to drink the WHOLE glass, what could possibly happen?
I WAS ON THE TOILET SHITTING FOR SEVEN HOURS. That's what could happen.

On the flip side, pain medication makes you constipated. This is very uncomfortable. I tried everything, coffee, natural laxatives and softeners, etc.  My sister and I even created our own song about poop.  Well, wouldn't you know it, that did the trick!  Maybe I will share the lyrics someday........"I just wanna poo-oo-oop......."

Radiation: 15 minutes everyday for 10 days

So now that I am taking up residency in the hospital; I can't eat, I vomit, I'm in pain, my sister and mother have to wipe my ladytown and ass several times a day for me, I can't walk, I smell, and I meet my future husband. Just kidding. I wouldn't want to date me either.

Wearing a hospital gown for a whole week was fantastic and really comfortable! Oh, and portable toilets totally rock.  While I am in the hospital they decide to start me on radiation.  When I was admitted and drugged up they made the road map on my hip for radiation; a bunch of blue markings and tape.  They block off the spots getting lasered including half of my ladytown.  Lucky me.  Everyday at 2:45 I get wheeled through the hospital maze to radiation.  I need 2-3 technicians to help me onto the very uncomfortable table.  Then I get to flash them all, but they assure me they have seen everything.  Well, this is awkward.  They do throw a towel over me, thanks.   The radiation machine I imagine is like something from space.  It starts above you and rotates around underneath you.  While making unpredictable loud clicking sounds that make you jump out of your skin.  What? I am supposed to stay still and not move? Oh, right.

When I get out of the hospital I still have about 5 more radiation sessions.  These are a little more difficult because I have clothes on, so I have to drop my drawers or shimmy my drawers down in order for them to radiate my crotch, I mean hip.  Luckily, this week I get my very last period, ever.  Now that I am in menopause (chemically induced), which is even sexier than you think, I will never get my period again, have hot flashes for the rest of my life, and mood swings, but I am pretty sure I was already moody to begin with, so who the hell can tell the difference.  So not only do I get to flash the technicians as I have been doing, but I have to warn them of my ladytown situation.  I'll stop there.  On my last radiation appointment I get tattooed.  Yup, they tattoo 2 little dots on my hip where they have radiated me, so if they ever need to go back to that spot they know where they have been.  Don't worry they look just like freckles.....blue ones. 

It is time for my first shower in a week.  Woohoo! I am downright nasty.  At this point I still can't walk and am in serious pain.  I make it to the shower chair (gross)  in the shower, and in jumps my sister in a bathing suit.  She actually had to bathe me, and for many showers after.  She loved it.

After leaving the hospital I 'moved' into the first floor of my parents house in the T.V. room with a hospital bed, a walker and a portable toilet.

Would you read to me from the bible?

Do you know what you would smell like if you didn't shower for 7 straight days? It's just not right. We'll get to that later.....
My first day/night in the hospital was pretty comical. It took them an exceptionally long time to put in an IV and hook a sister up to some morphine. Morphine, you say? Apparently my body likes a direct line, what can I say? Luckily I didn't have a roommate yet but I was going to be moved the next day to a private room anyway, VIP baby! My sister spent the afternoon calling my close friends telling them I had cancer. That had to be awkward, no? The day before, I only made 2 phone calls.....so my sister got the dirty job of dropping the "C" bomb, better her than me.
That night was my first experience with a bed pan. Carla, this is Bed Pan; Bed Pan, this is Carla. Nice to meet you. I didn't know it was humanly possible to aim pee into something shaped like that. My sister stayed over in an uncomfortable recliner, so she was witness to it all. Because they had been pumping me with fluids all day, by the middle of the night, I broke down and had to use the bed pan. You know the feeling of having to pee so bad after a night of binge drinking, and you refuse to use that nastyass bathroom at the bar? That is what it felt like, times ten. So the possibility of relief in my near future was overwhelming.

The process was very difficult, I had to work up the courage to actually move, which was super painful, and there was an audience of a few nurses. Finally, I was able to 'assume' the position and.........NOTHING. That's right, nothing. I COULD NOT pee. What a let down, I know those nurses were just waiting to wipe my ass. Sorry to disappoint. I tried a little while later and was VERY successful. This is when a thing called modesty left the building.

The week in the hospital is a little fuzzy since I was heavily medicated throughout. Plus, they like to give you a little button to push every time you think you need more morphine. You are so drugged up that you actually think you are getting more medicine every 5 minutes. Liars.

I was moved to my VIP room with my own bathroom, which I obviously didn't use all week. While in the hospital it was decided that I should start radiation on my hip and start a medication that will essentially put me in menopause by shutting down my ovaries. 'Will she be upset about her ovaries?, my doctor asked my family. My sister responded, uhh, NO.' You mean I won't get my period ever again? Shit yeah!

I had one awesome nurse and the rest were...eh. Every time you finally fall asleep, they wake you up to take your vitals (temperature and blood pressure). It seemed like people were in and out of my room constantly, most of them were my family and close friends but there was the creeper. I don't remember what religious affiliation this lady was but she was really obsessed with popping in unannounced. She would come in the room and start chatting with anyone about death and then try to talk to me. I finally caught on and just started playing dead.

At least I still have a sense of humor. On one particular day, my sister and her best friend were in the room visiting. I was sleeping on and off. For those of you who know me, know that I am the farthest thing from religious. I heard the two of them talking and moving about, so in my most pathetic 'I have cancer, feel bad for me' voice I said, "Guys, can you read to me from the bible?" Now, I didn't have my glasses on and I am pretty blind, but I could see their eyes popping out of their heads and both of them just freeze. Bahahahahahahahaha...awesome.

Remember, I am here to f*ck cancer, not become friends with God.