Wednesday, 31 December 2014
Farewell 2014
Sunday, 21 December 2014
Update
This is what she wrote:
Update: I've been experiencing some extreme pain lately, all in relation to the tumours in my left lung. I've had a sore lower back, sore shoulder and this weekend very shallow breathing. Went to the ER this morning and was treated immediately as I had a fever and a rapid heart beat. They've given me a blood transfusion because my hemoglobin was too low. It's been a tough weekend and a rough day! I could really use your light, love, prayers and well wishes! I know you all will have many questions, sadly I don't have the answers, so please be gentle.
Thank you for your continued love and support.
Saturday, 13 December 2014
So this is Christmas.....
The. Weirdest. Christmas. Ever.
I keep wondering why I keep hearing Christmas music and seeing so many ads and then I give my head a shake and remind myself that it's "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year!"
Here's why I'm so confused - two reasons:
Firstly, we're renovating our house and we've been living in the basement since October 13th. As I don't like to eat out much, I've managed to be very creative with a crock pot, rice cooker and hot plate (plus we've had a little help from our friends who have taken pity on us and brought us food). Ty moved out early on in the reno, so that made life a little less squishy, but it's been interesting and annoying and fun all at the same time. Christmas decorating is "minimalist" this year - just a few decorations we've managed to find. But the end result is going to be fantastic and it's on schedule to be done around December 23.
Not hard, not challenging, it's self imposed and just inconvenient (and kind of fun).
Second - this part is hard and challenging, forced on us and very inconvenient (no fun at all).
Jacqui had her second round of chemo on Wednesday. The doctor advised us to go the "Port" route and so she had the port inserted on Nov. 25 and had her first round on Nov. 26. This chemo is administered for one hour, on one day, every other week. Jacqui thinks it's short and easy with the port - the best chemo ever. But there are still the side effects to deal with - mostly exhaustion and it's hard when the actual chemo part is so short to remember that it will still take a while to recover. She'll continue with this chemo until the end of the year and in the new year there will be another scan and the doctor will decide what actions to take next.
And then there is the pain, so much pain over the last few weeks. Sometimes it's just a dull ache and sometimes stabbing pain that lasts for a few hours before subsiding. It looks like it's fluid buildup in the lungs - so now there's that to figure out. She's tired and she hurts and it feels like enough...when we look for the light at the end of the tunnel, sometimes all we can see is darkness.
That's when it's time to look at our little Christmas tree and it's lights remind us of the light and hope of this happy season.
Friday, 21 November 2014
What your friends with cancer want you to know (but are afraid to say)
I found a link to a blog on a friend's facebook page (thanks Iris) and thought it summed things up really well. Here it is if you're interested:
Our fight is simply a willingness to go through treatment because, frankly, the alternative sucks. Strength? We endure pain and sickness for the chance to feel normal down the road. Brave? We build up an emotional tolerance and acceptance of things we can’t change. Faith kicks in to take care of the rest.
The truth is that if someone you love has cancer, they probably won’t be completely open about what they’re going through because they’re trying so hard to be strong.
For you.
However, if they could be truly honest and vulnerable, they would tell you:
2. Let me experience real emotions. Even though cancer and its treatments can sometimes influence my outlook, I still have normal moods and feelings in response to life events. If I’m angry or upset, accept that something made me mad and don’t write it off as the disease. I need to experience and express real emotions and not have them minimized or brushed off.
3. Ask me “what’s up” rather than “how do you feel.” Let’s talk about life and what’s been happening rather than focusing on my illness.
4. Forgive me. There will be times when the illness and its treatment make me “not myself.” I may be forgetful, abrupt or hurtful. None of this is deliberate. Please don’t take it personally, and please forgive me.
6. Take pictures of us. I may fuss about a photo, but a snapshot of us can help get me through tough times. A photo is a reminder that someone thinks I’m important and worth remembering. Don’t let me say “I don’t want you to remember me like this” when treatment leaves me bald or scarred. This is me, who I am RIGHT NOW. Embrace the now with me.
7. I need a little time alone. A few points ago I was talking about how much I need to spend time with you, and now I’m telling you to go away. I love you, but sometimes I need a little solitude. It gives me the chance to take off the brave face I’ve been wearing too long, and the silence can be soothing.
8. My family needs friends. Parenting is hard enough when your body is healthy; it becomes even more challenging when you’re managing a cancer diagnosis with the day-to-day needs of your family. My children, who aren’t mature enough to understand what I’m going through, still need to go to school, do homework, play sports, and hang out with friends. Car-pooling and play dates are sanity-savers for me. Take my kids. Please. My spouse could also benefit from a little time with friends. Grab lunch or play a round of golf together. I take comfort in knowing you care about the people I love.
9. I want you to reduce your cancer risk. I don’t want you to go through this. While some cancers strike out of the blue, many can be prevented with just a few lifestyle changes – stop smoking, lose extra weight, protect your skin from sun damage, and watch what you eat. Please go see a doctor for regular check-ups and demand follow-up whenever pain, bleeding or unusual lumps show up. Many people can live long and fulfilling lives if this disease is discovered in its early stages. I want you to have a long and fulfilling life.
10. Take nothing for granted. Enjoy the life you have right now. Take time to jump in puddles, hug the kids, and feel the wind on your face. Marvel at this amazing world God created, and thank Him for bringing us together.
Although the perspective is different than mine (the writer is a mother with cancer) I agreed with almost all of it - the only one I was iffy on was #3 - don't be afraid to ask what's really going on - it doesn't have to be the focus of every conversation, but it's been a pretty huge part of our lives for 4 1/2 years, so to never mention it at all really feels weird.
We are so thankful for all of the support and love we have received from family, friends and even strangers - we couldn't do this alone.
Update: Very tough week
The pain that Jacqui had been experiencing increased a lot and she made the decision to stop work a few days early. Since then it's been really tough finding the right medications - ones that will ease the pain without making her sick. So I think we may have the pain figured out, now we just have to get some food in her.
Next week: Doctors appointments and decisions to make
Monday, 10 November 2014
Change of plans
Friday, 3 October 2014
When something is set there is nothing to be brave about
Jacqui also wanted me to add this quote she heard today:
Thursday, 4 September 2014
September 2014
Friday, 1 August 2014
Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the lights.
I've been a little negligent since the last post and we've had an appointment in between so it's time for an update.
I thought at the time, "well that's a few more carefree months" - this news buys time for all sorts of things,
― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars
- Albus Dumbledore
Friday, 27 June 2014
So I commend the enjoyment of life
Tuesday, 27 May 2014
It's not happy, so we just have to be happy
It's been a few weeks - good weeks - of recovering from that last brutal round of chemo, catching up on things that have been forgotten during the last few months, a regular routine - no hospital visits - scheduled or emergency. The times between appointments or treatments - when Jacqui is looking well and feeling well and hopeful are the times that we can forget for a little while and pretend that life is "normal".
The funny thing is when Jacqui is feeling so good and looking so good, it's hard to imagine that there is really anything bad going on behind the scenes at all - people say this to her all the time.
But an appointment is coming and before we go to see the doctor, we need to sit down and talk about:
- what questions we want to ask
- what questions we don't want to ask
- all the types of treatment, alternative treatments, alternative medicines, clinical trials
- when she can go back to work, can she go back full time
I don't want to forget anything important - so I make lists on my phone, in my journal, in my notebook at work, on the notepad on the fridge, on my hand to write down somewhere else later. And I read up on Synovial Sarcoma, I read things that make me hopeful and I read things that make me cry.
These weeks as we've celebrated births, reunions, birthdays, graduations, weddings, showers, mother's day, sunny days, Peter and Ty went to NYC - each event - though I try to stay in the moment, sometimes my mind wanders to "what if's". Most days are good, a few aren't.
And today was the appointment - the usual routine:
At that point we'll see how things are and make a decision on further treatment - different chemo, surgery, radiation - who knows? It's such a rare, unknown cancer - I find myself envious of those who have common cancers - with tried and true treatments - that's just how weird this gets.
Today he used the phrase "advanced cancer" and other related, suggestive phrases - that's hard to hear. It seems like all there is to do right now is to wait and be patient. As I just said to a friend, it's not happy, so we just have to be happy, sooooo......
Sunday, 4 May 2014
Where there's life, there's hope
Last Monday we had Jacqui's appointment to get the results of the CT scan she'd had.
The results were not really what we wanted, but I am not really sure what we were expecting either. So, to sum it up quickly, she had a CT scan in January, (the one that showed the tumors were growing and surgery wasn't an option) and then a PET scan in February, which confirmed this and showed that they'd grown a little more and then the latest one, that showed that although the spots have shrunk, they are still bigger than they were in January.
So the good news is that they have stopped growing, and in fact have shrunk, but the bad news is they are not gone. Now what? Well her Dr. said they'll now treat her cancer as a chronic disease, they'll monitor her regularly with X-rays, CT scans and that type of thing and then treat her as needed when and if there are changes. Possibilities are different types of chemo, radiation, surgery...miracles.
She had one last round of chemo this week (this type's effectiveness decreases with each round and the side effects increase with each round - so they didn't feel any more than 4 would be worthwhile especially since she's had so much trouble with side effects already). True to form, it was very hard on her and it didn't make it easier knowing that it's less effective but still as hard to take.
We were all a bit distraught at the results of the CT scan, but two bits of hope came during the week. the first was when we were leaving the hospital on Monday, she bumped into the man that she had shared a room with during the last round. He was diagnosed with a similar type of cancer 11 years ago and was told at that time that they could only treat him palliatively, no real hope and now it's 11 years later - not all easy - but as he told us when we were leaving last time "Where there's life, there's hope". The other was when the Dr. came in to check on Jacqui during chemo and when she expressed some distress, he said, the news is not bad, the chemo is working, and we still have lots of options. Little things, but little bits add up to greater hope.
One day at a time. We were talking about that the other day - it's much harder when you have no choice but to live one day at a time - when it's not just a good philosophy for how to live your life but how you have to live your life.
We have her home now and she is relieved to be done the chemo, and because hope is hard to lose - she is looking forward to feeling better again, getting back to work, making summer plans and growing some hair.
And then we'll see...
Saturday, 26 April 2014
Fear cannot be without hope, Nor hope without fear
Crazy going slowly am I
six, five, four, three, two, one, switch!
Just when things are calming down, all hell breaks loose.
So Jacqui wrote the blog just a few short days ago, on Monday morning, and she was pretty much feeling back to normal after a tough round.
And then it was Monday night...before she went to bed she said the inside of her left arm, just above her elbow, was hurting and we took a look and it was swollen and reddish. We thought maybe she had pulled a muscle or bumped it or something and decided to see how it looked in the morning.
In the morning it was not looking any better, and was very tender so I gave her a few Tylenol and a bag of ice and said if it didn't get any better she should ask them about it when she went for her CT scan later that morning. So it didn't get any better - and they took a look at her arm and sent her straight to the ER. It turned out to be a Thrombosis (blood clot) - one in her arm and then another one in her neck. Thankfully she didn't have to remain in the hospital, but now has to give herself injections everyday to thin her blood and help to dissolve the clot. She had pain medication that was easing the pain somewhat, but it was still quite swollen.
Friday morning she woke up with her whole forearm swollen and of course when she called the doctor's office they said she should go back to emergency to get it checked out. So back to the hospital she went - more time to sit around and wait. The only good thing here is that when you are receiving chemo you not only have a cancer card (literally) but you have a "Go to the front of the line" letter so that if you do end up in ER, you get in and seen quite quickly - yay cancer perks - is that a thing? - well I guess it is because when she arrived there was a 3 hour wait! Anyways, she was only in there about an hour and they said it looked like normal complications of the clot and gave her another prescription.
Anyways, all these ups and downs and twists and turns have us all feeling like we're walking on egg shells, it's hard not knowing it's going to be okay even one 1 half day to the next - changes can happen so fast. And even if a day goes well, you don't know what's around the corner and these days it seems like the surprises are often not good ones.
Hope - it's good to have hope, but the problem with hope is that the opposite is disappointment and when hope keeps turning to disappointment, you start to feel numb - to everything - nothing is as fun, happy, sad, good, bad or whatever, it's all kind of indifferent - and that's a weird place to be.
I tend to live my life feeling emotions fully and when I don't, I just don't recognize myself sometimes.
Fear cannot be without hope
Nor hope without fear
Baruch Spinoza
Monday, 21 April 2014
3 down
Sunday, 6 April 2014
Better, Blonder, Balder, Bump, Bastille
I read this the other day - someone's mom had told her this:
Monday, 17 March 2014
Worn
Well after a few short (very short) days of feeling pretty good, but tired, Jacqui goes back in for her second round of chemo tomorrow.
We weren't sure if she would be strong enough or that her white blood count would be up enough for her to start again this week, but all seems okay, so here we go again. It's really hard to start this again, I can see by Jacqui's face that it's just so much - too much. We don't know how this round will go, but know from past experience that it just gets a little harder each time.
But there are a few changes this time:
- First of all she is going to be admitted to the hospital, which is good - in that she doesn't have to travel back and forth each day and bad - because she doesn't want to have to stay in the hospital again
- they are going to reduce the dosage a bit because of how hard it was on her body
- they will give it to her more slowly, but continuously over a 24 hr (or so) period - it's usually 3-8 hour days - this is good because she won't have to have the IV re-inserted every morning, which can get really difficult as the weeks go by
There is a song that I heard the other day called "Worn" by 10th Avenue North and it describes very well how we're feeling right now....
Monday, 10 March 2014
It makes it even harder to face - if that's even possible...
When they were getting her checked in her temperature was up to 40, rising that evening to 41 at one point - pretty scary. After many samples of blood were taken, she was given 4 different antibiotics to fight off whatever was bugging her (literally). Blood tests came back in about an hour showing that her white blood cells (the ones for immunity and fighting off bugs) were completely depleted. Not so surprising after having chemo, but she'd had an injection to prevent this - I guess it just wasn't enough.
They fought the fever all night and it took till Sunday evening before it came down to a more normal spot, but then went up again a little bit.
She spent the night and most of Sunday in the ER, but in the brand new South Hospital it was a very nice private room so we weren't too concerned. Sunday evening she was moved to a regular huge private room and is currently very comfortable there.
After the little spike last night, her temperature has been pretty normal and she's feeling quite good. The doctor today said she has to go about 48 hours without a fever. The blood tests haven't been conclusive about what has caused the fever, but they aren't too concerned as long as it doesn't come back and her white blood count improves - which it has - to .6, they would like to see it at 1 (around 2 is normal).
So she will likely be in a least another day or two - which is very discouraging for her. She had lots of plans this week on what would have normally been her good week, so it's pretty disappointing (and scary and stupid too). She is accepting visitors - gowned, gloved and masked visitors - she has to be protected from any germs.
It's also hard knowing we have more rounds to look forward to and wondering how she will react to them - it makes it even harder to face - if that's even possible...
Friday, 7 March 2014
It’s okay to fall apart for a little while
This round was hard.
It's weird, chemo makes you feel so sick and low as if you are dying and then as you wean off the medicine you gain your energy and spirit back. It's exciting and I feel ready to socialize but I have this nag in the back of my mind reminding me that I have to do it all again much too soon.
PS: Watching House of Cards and Nashville are how I've been passing most of my time! Netflix is the absolute best