My Final Surgery??

About 2 weeks ago, Todd and I returned home from an amazing trip to Sunday River. The next day, he called out of work and took me to Lawrence General to have my port-a-cath removed.

I was excited and a tiny bit nervous. But Todd and I laughed a lot and joked with the nurses so it was fun. :)

While we were fooling around, Dr. Gemis came over and took our picture. He told me about how he was going to remove all of the scar tissue left from the insertion and sew me back together with a thinner line. That surprised me... but hey, whatever looks better.
CUTE!!

This is a really good action shot of me getting my IV. Generally speaking, I HATE this part... but I specifically asked to have it put in my arm (because I know it hurts more in the hand). This way, because my veins have been poked so many times, I didn't even feel a thing. Which is kind of sad in a way... but good in another way.

When I came out of surgery all they gave me was some delicious apple juice. I was starving. I hadn't eaten since 10:30 PM the night before. The nurse said she couldn't let me leave until my blood pressure went up. And yet, they weren't giving me anything to eat. So they gave me a second bag of fluids in my IV instead. And I wasn't happy.
Finally, after begging and saying how hungry I was, the nurse let us go.
And I went home and took a vicadin and watched the Futurama movie!
The End.

**Since then I have been watching my scar. It looks kind of weird. So I am going to see Dr. Gemis tomorrow to have him look at it... and maybe fix it. Because he definately didn't say anything about a weird nub.

I'm doing pretty good.

I'm really busy and relatively healthy. Between 2 jobs, doctor's appointments and mini vacations... I barely know if I'm coming or going.

I took a 10 hour/week position at Hostelling International (www.usahostels.org) as the Media and Development Assistant. It means I spend a lot of time calling rish people and asking for money... and doing research I don't think that they are ever going to use. Oh well. It's nice to have an office job for once. Although- it definately doesn't beat Northpoint!! Holla!

I've been snowboarding quite a lot (more than I thought I would be) and it feels awesome! I'm trying to catch more air and be more daring... I mean, I did just beat cancer- what could be scarier? A little snow, a little speed, and my feet off the ground doesn't even come close. So far, I've been up to Waterville Valley and Loon... but my favorite has been Mount Snow, VT. Todd and I also have trips planned to Sunday River, Jay Peak, and Stratton.

(this is me and Marielle @ Bradford)

And of course-- FLORIDA!! We leave for Florida in less than 2 weeks. So... we're trying to pack, getting our bathing suits and sunscreen in order (which you can image is slightly precarious compared to snow gear for us!).

I also joined the gym at work. I went 3 days last and it feels great. Instead of trying to bust my butt on some awkward cardio machine I've taken to the pool (and sometimes the hot tub!). The pool is small- but just big enough for me to make it across without drowning. I've never been a good swimmer. So, for about 20 minutes of back and forth I feel the burn... plus it's heated... so, besides snowboarding, I've definately found the perfect workout. So long as it doesn't turn my new hairdo green.

Speaking of hairdo- it's cute. It's still super short but it's growing fast. It's showing some signs of curl which is making me nervous... because I don't feel like having the new afro for the cancer-cured white chick. But, what can you do, really? I guess I could always cut it.

I have my pre-op appointment on Thursday for my surgery next Monday (after we get back from Sunday River). I've got to get this port-a-cath remoooved!! Finally will I feel a little more like this is all over! Which has also been a little difficult for me, not knowing what to do next.

And yesterday I had the most awful feeling like it might come back. Like "cancer" was lurking over my shoulder waiting to get me... just when I was starting to feel like myself again.

An Entry in Images


This is where I scanned my ID card every day upon arrival. As you may be able to see, my machine, the second one down the list, is 30 minutes behind... but that's OK! It also lists which doctor's are on duty to see patients... 'cause you have to visit with The Man at least once a week.

In the meantime, I'll just hang out with my cool nurse, Lynn. After a quick visit Lynn advises me that I have my port flushed. Whaaaat? It hasn't been accessed in over a month and in the off event they need to use it again... she has to flush it with saline. Fine, whatever, I have like an hour wait anyway. It takes Lynn 3 stabs before she gets it, but I didn't mind because she used a numbing solution first which was like first-class treatment as far as I'm concerned. She's really good... she even got a blood-return!

Then... it's Johnny time! Enter the changing closet and choose your weapon. Not much of a choice really... and would you know, I get the one with only one string every time!! If you're ever faced with this situation I suggest choosing the Johnny that looks most new. :) You'll look more shabby sheek... trust me.

Before I know it I'm face to face with Machine 15!!

Say hello...
Don't be scared...



So... this is where it all takes place.

And this adorable Francis and Amy, the technicians that run Machine 15 every single day. I think Francis had one day off during my whole treatment. They're good folks. :) I made them cookies.


And so ends An Entry in Images.

January 7th, 2008

FINALLY... an update.

Today is Monday-- and Wednesday is my last radiation treatment.

I've sort of been tackling this portion of my treatment with a blind eye-- it's easier since it's less painful-- going to the hospital everyday like it's a simple errand. And it's so routine that it's easy to forget why I'm even there.

I drive into the parking garage, spiral into the bowels of the cement edifice, walk 5 seconds over to the Brigham & Women's building, press L2 in the elevator, turn right and walk to the end of the hall, scan my ID card, change into a johnny, wait in the waiting room with other johnny-clad patients. I usually read a magazine... I'm all caught up on Architect's Digest, Audubon, Sport Diver, and Better Homes.

Sometimes I wait for hours and sometimes not even a minute.

When they call my name I enter the treatment room through a lead door and am greeted by my beautiful radiation technicians. Literally, they're all gorgeous. At first, my superficial assessment weirded me out, until I realized that it was their amazing personalities and extreme kindness that made laying under their machine that much less annoying, not their pretty looks.


So, I greet the technicians and lay down on the narrow, cold table. They undo my johnny, line up my tattoos with the lasers in the machine, pull my hips .5cm to the left, and then one of them says "Here we go, this looks perfect." They turn on the lights and leave me there with the sounds of Jimmy Buffet or smooth jazz and the beeping starts and I feel my esophagus melting. I try to close my eyes but I can't so I stare into the big, black eye of the machine.

The technicians are sort of like a little clan of Oopmpa Loompas working for Wonka or a band of Christmas elves working with their little tools, doing all the ground work for the big guy... Dr. Mauch.

When the beeping stops they come back in, raise the table up to the ceiling, and rotate the machine underneath me to get my cancer from behind. And they leave and I'm left alone with the machine again.


The beeping stops again and I tie up my johnny as they lower the table and we chit chat and say "See you tomorrow" and "Have a nice night." I pay the parking attendant anywhere from $2 to $8 bucks. Go home to Todd and we make dinner and watch movies and go to bed-- to do the whole thing over again.

Wednesday is my last radiation treatment... but that doesn't mean I'm home free. I've already got the go-ahead from Dr. Fisher to have my port-a-cath removed which means another surgery. I also have a follow-up appointment with Fisher and Mauch on February 21st, the day after I return from my birthday-vacation-in-Florida.

After that though, I guess I'll be done for the next couple of months... until...

MY NEXT SCAN!!

The Joys of Radiation

Over a week ago, I went to my "mapping appointment" at Brigham & Women's. I went alone. Considering all the research and weighing of options I had to do, mostly on my own... and the final decision, which I made on my own... I figured... why the hell not. Plus, it was easier not having to worry about anyone else.

In an examination room, one of Dr. Mauch's (you'll see he's a very popular guy and gets many other people to do most of his work for him... which makes him slightly mysterious) residents goes over all of the many dangerous potential short and long term side effects of exposing your fragile body to radiation. While he's explaining all of this, most of which I already know, I think about backing out of the whole ordeal. Saying, "Thanks, but no thanks! Why would I want to do that to myself? You've got to be kidding." And then he says something I probably will never forget: We are not worried about the potential for secondary cancers. We are concerned with curing the cancer you already have. Which I am already cured of, thank you very much, with 2 clean scans under my belt. Now, he probably didn't mean it in the way that I took it... but I still didn't think it was a very good thing to say. Of course, he's a radiologist... so that's all he should care about... radiating my cancer... it's not as though he is my primary care physician who's job it is to care about me past, present, and future?

And there's another reason added to list of why I don't like doctors very much.

At this appointment I get to do one of my favorite things... wear a johnny. CRINGE! Worst invention ever.

In my stylish hospital wear, I'm sent to another waiting room, the size of a handicapped bathroom. Literally. I'm sitting there alone... in my blue johnny with a black and white knit cap with a skull and crossbones... classy... when 2 other women walk and in and sit down. I think they must be Italian because they talk a lot. Or maybe they are just nervous... but they are gossiping at light speed. Which is good for me because it fills the air with something other than stale smells and my instinct screaming at me to run from these self-absorbed, maniacal, radiation-wielding geniuses!

One of the ladies offers me a clementine... and sadly I decline.

When they call me, I take my position laying on a hard table. They take a bunch of x-rays, line me up, move my hips, my shoulders, align my neck. There's beeping and hands pulling me this way and that. It was exciting. Just like getting ready to have my insides removed and replaced with robot parts- hey, why not?

I might as well have been on an alien spaceship getting ready for a probe because then they tattooed me. I've always wanted to get a tattoo... and I'm pretty disappointed that I waited this long to get one. Now, my first tattoo is a geometric constellation of blue pin-prick sized dots on my chest. Unattractive and yet functional! They'll use these dots to line my body up with lasers inside the radiation machine... in other words, it's so that they don't miss.

After the tattoos I think they probably take some more pictures and align them with images from my first scan when the mass in my chest was bigger than 9cms. Then I'm sent to a changing room to remove my johnny. Finally! I shed the faded, paper-thin robe and slip into something more... comfortable.

Then I'm given a tour of the facility by one of Dr. Mach's nurse practitioners and a student. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever see the man himself. The tour is short-lived. This is where you change into a johnny everyday (great), this is where you wait in your johnny to be called into the radiation room (great), and this is where you scan your id card (johnny optional) and this is the nurses station in case you have any questions during your visit. Do you have any questions?

We all go into yet another examination room where the nurse practitioner in her pretty purple glasses that almost look like goggles (or a splatter shield) tells me all about what to expect on a daily basis. Siiiigh. I keep forgetting what I've gotten myself into. Good thing there's always some nurse or resident or secretary to remind me! The nurse gives me a packet full of information and phone numbers in case of this... or that... or the other thing. And then she gives me a bunch of lotions and oral rinses... which I am totally stoked about taking home with me. NO. This is for if you develop a burn on your skin from the radiation... swallow this 4 times a day if you start to get a sore throat because the radiation is damaging your esophagus... and call us if you're experiencing anything abnormal that we haven't discussed today.

This is all very frustrating since this treatment is supposed to helping... and so far, that's not the gist I'm getting today.


The she leaves and I wait at least a half hour before Dr. Mauch himself graces me with his presence. He doesn't have much to say except "Don't worry" and "Everything looks in order" and "We'll proceed next week" and "You'll have 17 treatments" and "See you next week."

Yea. I guess. See you next week.

Scan No. 3

The day of waiting... and waiting...

This day, Todd, mom, and myself drove to Brigham and Women's Hospital for my third scan. What we didn't know then was that Dana-Farber is much more efficient at scanning than Brigham and Women's. Well, we know now.

I was taken into the back around 1220pm... my appointment was at 11am. Then, instead of getting a sweet room with a TV in it to wait to become radioactive... they put me in a room/hallway in a stiff recliner, inject me, and tell me they'll be back in an hour. Torture. I stared at the wall in front of me and tried to overhear the patient in the next room. How old was he? What type of cancer did he have? I never found out... but he had a good sense of humor... which basically comes with the territory so it wasn't anything new.


I'm going to be late for my 230pm appointment with Dr. Fisher. That means more waiting. Great. The scan goes by pretty quickly... it's much less tortuous now that I keep my arms down to prevent them from falling asleep. When I get out of the scan I find mom and Todd in the waiting room with guilty looks on their faces. In case you forget, before a scan I cannot eat for 6 hours. Well, my little escorts that day decided they couldn't wait any more and went out to lunch while I lay inside a cold metal scanning machine.

So I'm starving. We walk over to Dana-Farber to meet with Dr. Fisher. We wait some more here. I don't know what time I was finally called. When the nurse takes my vitals, my blood pressure was so low that she had to feed me a plan, dry, turkey sandwich on white bread.

When we see Dr. Fisher he doesn't have much to say. He can't view my scan because it's not on the medical server yet but he assumes it's clean just like the last one. Despite my reservations about radiation, Dr. Fisher insists that if I opt out of it, that I will need 4 more cycles of chemotherapy (that's 8 treatments!). Great. So basically, I'm shittouttah... options.

We drop Todd off at his pad in Somerville and I cry because I'm so pissed off... about everything.

Treatment No. 8

My Doctors are Fighting

I wake up in Boston around 745am and get my butt into gear for my last treatment. I find a parking ticket on the Lesabre (apparently you aren't supposed to park within 20ft of an intersection). I'm off to Lawrence General!

(This is a picture of me and my Chemo-Graduation Bear!)

I get home about 845am and have some toast. I also take my antibiotics that I was prescribed for biting my own cheek over a week ago. Duh. Dad and I sort of putt around the house in no big hurry... but finally, it's time to go.

We get to the hospital and end up waiting an hour and a half to talk to Dr. Sanz. He was back in Spain (with his wife and family) for the last 2 weeks so all of his patients are anxious to see him. I am anxious to get in and out of the chemo-lounge as quickly as possible.

Dr. Sanz expresses that, if I have one more clean scan, that he would rather not see me have radiation. I told him that Dr. Fisher from Dana-Farber wants me to have radiation. Dr. Sanz says that he will call Dr. Fisher to get his opinion. I also tell him that I met with the radiologist Dr. Mauch and Dr. Sanz says that they call that the "Banana/Chimp" affect. So, my doctor's are fighting. And I don't really care... I'd just rather be done with the whole entire cancer thing.

Finally, I get to the chemo-lounge where Ed, a chemo friend of mine, informs me that today is his last day as well. Hooray! I mean, it's weird. We see each other every other week, we chat, we take drugs, we see each other getting stabbed by the nurses, we see each other have adverse reactions to drugs... we see the good, the bad, and the ugly... and now we may never see each other ever again.

When I get home from my treatment, I sleep... pretty much the rest of the day. I had to cancel plans with Emily because I was just so tired and groggy. When I woke up there was the wine poster I had tried to get from Mcaloons Liquors that Auntie Paula had left as a surprise for me! Cool! I have a piece of pizza with gingerale as a snack. And then Auntie Kellie comes over with dinner! Delicious! I am sitting on the couch alone watching Kid Nation when the doorbell rings.

Surprise! Todd with flowers! He walked to my house all the way from the Lawrence train station! I was so excited to see him! I had wanted to make my last treatment special... but I didn't really know what to do... since I never have enough energy to actually do anything. It was perfect. We watched the rest of Kid Nation and Kitchen Nightmares, had ice cream, and then Todd tucked me in. The perfect ending.