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Contrary to the flow of journals here, this one might only have sporadic mention of porn addiction. Events in my life starting with the 2008 New Year make my husband's addiction seem right small in comparison.

I'll start by saying that colonoscopies can be your friend! Okay, I'll admit that a bit of my wiseass is showing with that statement.

I've been hospitalized three times this year; and a guest of the emergency room for five. Fun times, that. Um, yeah. Nothing like being an IV stick regular. Ugh, the bruising; which is only exacerbated by that lovely medication prednesone. (...and Roger Clemens thinks HE'S got steroid problems. Pansy.) I wonder how many check-out clerks at the grocery store think I'm an intravenous drug user...whee!

In February, after confirmation via CT scan, I was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease. Not cureable; but supposedly manageable. Focking liars, in my case. Just how DOES one manage severe intestinal blockage? I swore if I vomited one more time, my shoes would come off through my mouth. The frivolity of it all culminated in abdominal surgery March 27 to remove a portion of small intestine, half of my large intestine (colon); and my appendix. Whilst poking around, they found a tumor taking up residence where my small and large intestines meet. Just for grins, they took 17 lymph nodes for testing.

I've always done well on tests; sharp bugger that I am.

One node came back positive for cancer. I'm now part of the club that nobody wants to be in. I'm a cancer patient. I have stage 3 colon cancer.

CANCER. What a scary word. Freak that I am, though, I'm more squicked about the portacath the oncologist needs me to have installed in my chest for the 6 months of chemo I started April 30. A foreign object in my body?!? EW! (This coming from the goober that currently shares residence with a titanium total left hip replacement performed 4 years ago. Call me crazy.) Of course, knowing that chemo is disastrous for the veins and avoiding that by going intra-arterial makes me feel better about it. No, really. REALLY. (Convinced yet? That's one of us, I guess.)

Okay....so the portacath is going to come in handy. My first infusion certainly went easier because of it. The routine is as follows:

• Day 1: Sit in doctor's office for 3 hours of meds; which include anti-nausea meds. (I discovered those don't stick with you. Blar.) When finished, get connected to a little pump to continue infusion overnight. Pump fits into a fanny pack.
• Day 2: Sit in doctor's office for 2 hours of meds. When finished, reconnect the pump for another overnight infusion.
• Day 3: Go to doctor's office just long enough to have pump removed.

What good drugs am I getting? Eloxatin, Leucovorin (which is, basically, vitamins); and 5-Fluorouracil (5-FU for short...makes me think, "F U to cancer!" *snort*). The Leucovorin makes the 5-FU work better; and heck -- who hates vitamins? The first two drugs listed are what's administered in the doctor's office for those multi-hour visits; and the 5-FU is what's infused via that little handy dandy pump. Why? The 5-FU only has a life of about 8 minutes in your body; so to be fully effective, it has to be continuously administered. I also had to fill 5 prescriptions to counter the side effects; 3 of which handle nausea in some form or other.

My favorite thing about the pump? The looks I get from my cat when it makes its teeny squealing noises. Funny stuff, that.

When the Day 3 part of the routine hits, so does the overwhelming nausea and exhaustion. So much for skating through this. Oof.

Side effects? Glad you asked...

• Nausea and vomiting
• Loss of appetite (No kidding. As a result of my last infusion, I lost 5 pounds.)
• Hair loss (My doctor said hair loss with this type of chemo is very rare. I hope he's right -- I just spent $175 changing my hairstyle to something easier to care for. Don't want that to be money down the drain.)
• Mouth sores (Try eating oranges with THAT one.)
• Rash on hands and feet
• Diarrhea (Not exactly a party in your pants, yanno?)
• Neuropathy (Essentially, it's nerve issues involving tingling in the hands and feet; but this side effect includes pain associated with anything cold. I exerienced it firsthand while holding a can of soda the other day. It lit up my fingers like the 4th of July. OW! Swallowing cold stuff? It constricts the esophagus, too. Nice.)

There are far more side effects; but I'm weary of listing them.

The moral of this tale? Get regular colonoscopies. They're not the terror most people think. Thanks to being medicated for it, I napped through mine. Missed a good show. It's like WebMD on video.

More to come. Stay tuned.

(((((benderson)))))

I have had 3, 2 with polyps and the last one clear. I think I'll check my calendar, I may be due again.

Take good care of your Self.

Hello, Benderson;

I'm really sorry to hear of the terrible things you're going through. This hits pretty close to home for me. A good friend of mine, the mother of one of my son's best friends, is going through the same issues right now, though she's at Stage 4. I'm amazed that she still showed up for her son's hockey games this winter at the outdoor deck and stood throughout each game, even when the temperature was below freezing. Please take good care of yourself tonight, Benderson. You're very much in my thoughts and prayers. My very best to you and your loved ones.

Grace and peace,

Guy

Benderson: May I suggest we take up a subscription for a hat?
http://www.jackiefarry.com/cancerhat/

If you prefer to be a bit more subtle about it?
http://wehatecancer.net/product_spotlig ... tegory=698

From life experience, I can say that wearing one of these to chemo is quite the conversation starter.

Be well, and thanks for sharing what's going on with you.

(((benderson)))

Oh, Benderson. I'm so sorry to hear of your cancer, and the fun (NOT) side effects of the drugs. I can't even hardly imagine what you must be going thru. If you lived closer to me, I'd be happy to take YOU out to dinner and let you vent if you wanted.

All I can say is take care of yourself... so take care of yourself. I'll be thinking of you.

Geoff

Huggie to you you fabulous and strong lady!

If you would like a copy of the Cancer society (sh!t I can keep this down with chemo!) cookbook, pm me your address and I'll send out. My mom is 4 years clean of breast cancer this spring. I well remember the port and the puking and the many novels she only half finished in the dr. office being pumped up. My cooking was all she could eat (not saying much, dad's cooking means calling dominos). My thoughts and prayers are with you.

-daisy

ps- if you can keep it down, natural dark chocolate helps defer the neuropathy the chemo causes- a little anyway. I can send you some of that too!

Benderson, I'm so shocked and sad that you are going through this. I put you on my prayer list and will be praying for the side effects to lessen and for the drugs to work just as they should so you'll be free of cancer quickly.

Thanks for letting us know what's going on with you.

Hephzibah

my mother has/had colon cancer. what a ride, huh?

i'm glad that you're able to find a little bit of humor, where ever you can... the whole PA thing is kind of an afterthought, i'm sure... icing on a lovely cake that you thought was chocolate.

<hugs> my thoughts are with you.

Loving thoughts, well wishes and especially prayers are damned cool stuff. I love 'em. Better than ANY bouquet of flowers; because they don't wilt and die.

Subtlety, thy name is NOT Benderson; but I don't have the stones to wear swear words in public. You can't take those back as easily as the spoken ones; and I can just see Jesus greeting me on my Judgment Day, tapping his foot with a frown on his face over that one. (Love that hat, though.)

When you get cancer and visit the oncologist, they send you home with nifty sh*t. A huge BAG of it. Of course, the sponsor's name (Eloxatin) is all over most of the items; but who cares? Oh, look! Another list....

• Pens
• Pads of paper
• A huge, fuzzy blankie (one of the favorites)
• A smaller, fuzzy blankie (maybe for the cat?)
• Fuzzy gloves
• Special socks with pockets that hold those gel-filled, microwave-heatable thingies (ding! ding! ding! We have a winner of the favorites.)
• Two lapel pins (I thought breast cancer was the only cancer cause with a nifty pin symbolizing the fight. I was wrong, obviously.)
• A book: 100 Questions About Colorectal Cancer (Pretty good read, actually.)
• A cookbook: Eating Well Through Cancer (Is this the book you wanted to send, Daisy?)
• Two smaller versions of that gel stuff you heat in the microwave (Since I have clots in both wrists from prior botched IVs, those are coming in handy to clear that up.)

I keep forgetting that food and I aren't on friendly speaking terms yet. It has nothing to do with nausea; and every bit to do with the Crohn's. I ate a little more at dinner tonight than I should; and I'm paying dearly. It's like my intestines acted the summer lifeguard and started yelling, "Emergency! Everybody out of the pool!" Then, the pushing and shoving began as 'everyone' competed for first exit. The laughable part of it all? I get to pretend I'm in junior high again; and think that farts are funny. Just call me farty pants. The not-so-laughable part? The feeling is best described as a knife travelling SIDEWAYS through your system. I did manage, somehow, to keep my eyes in my head. I didn't want the locals running and screaming in fear over the crazy lady with the empty eye sockets. Hey -- I'm just happy I can keep food down. The nausea from the infusion, THANKFULLY, only lasted the first 2-3 days after the pump came off. Of course, further treatment may mean all bets are off; but I'll take it for now.

Natural dark chocolate to ease the neuropathy.....would that include Junior Mints? Ooooo....

I get bloodwork on my next visit. I vaguely remember hearing that they wouldn't be drawing blood through the port; but I hope I'm wrong. Needle sticks SUCK; especially on those of us with small, hard-to-find veins. Mine are dodgy little bastards; and the easiest ones to get are in my hands. (Nowhere for them to run, I guess. HA!) More bruising; which is hard to hide on your hands. Strangers will think I'm an abuse victim.

For now, I'm assuming that my immunities are holding; as are my blood and platelet counts. Being a hip replacement patient, the risk of infection is a HUGE deal. I saw my orthopedic surgeon before starting chemo; and his only concern is that they start me on a broad specrum antibiotic at the very WHIFF of an infection. An infection that gets away from me? It could mean another hip replacement surgery; because the infection would attack the implant. Not cool. Of course, that's preferable to death; which is the other possibility in that instance.

Each time I receive treatment, they flush the port by injecting saline before starting the infusions. They also used to do that in my IVs during my hospital stays; and I forgot that you experience the 'taste' of it as it's injected. It's like a whisper in the back of your throat; but there, just the same. I want to invent flavored saline just for this phenomenon. Orange would be nice.

My cat is loving it when I'm bed-bound and not feeling so hot. She normally has to stalk me for a lap; and she's very perceptive as to when I don't feel well. Of course, her knowing I feel icky doesn't stop her selfish self from still wanting my lap. Twit. The dogs? They just want to be sure that I'll still fill their bowls at 6pm sharp. They're too big for my lap.

I told my husband yesterday that if I lose weight at the same rate as the first infusion, I'll need new clothes come October. (I can fake it 'til I make it with the current clothing; but I may embarrass myself in pants without a belt in the meantime.) He shrugged and said, "So, we'll buy you new clothes."

A man after my own heart.

WARNING: At times, posts by me in this journal might get pretty graphic; but mainly when it comes to swear words and bodily functions. If you find you have issues with that, remember -- you WERE warned. My girlfriends and I have decided that you're officially old when you discuss your poop habits with each other. Leave it to medical staff to treat a bowel movement as if it were as socially acceptable in conversation as what you did on vacation.

Did you know that potassium administered via IV stings like a b*tch? God help you if they're being dripped with your bag of hydrating fluids; and those fluids run out FIRST. Oh. My. God. I have a high threshold for pain; but I was crying for my Mama that day. I was then reminded by a nurse friend of mine that we kill prisioners by lethal injection with pretty much the same stuff. Alrighty, then.

A LITTLE TIP: This same nurse friend told me that if you ever experience vomiting you can't stop (like during a virus or something), eat bananas. It's the best bet for something somewhat solid to have on your stomach; and you need the potassium you're losing to the vomiting. The best part? It's the only food that tastes the same coming up as going down. I never knew that bit of trivia.

Demerol and Phenergan make a nifty IV cocktail. I learned that early in my emergency room visits; because both would be injected into my IV to stop my pain and vomiting. No pill gives you instant peace like that. Morphine? Hrumph. *snort* That stuff might as well be a placebo, in my case. By my last hospital stay (the one that involved the abdominal surgery), it was nightly routine to call the duty nurse when I was ready to sleep; and ask for my 'cocktail'. It couldn't have been any better than having a margarita directly syphoned into me. Sweet!

That 'cocktail' is how I celebrated having the NG tube removed. ("What's an NG tube?" ask those of you who have never experienced that particular Hell.) NG stands for nasogastric; and it's what's used to keep your stomach empty after abdominal surgery or when it's necessary to keep your intestines or stomach from doing any work. My first experience with one was probably a worst case scenario; because I was AWAKE. Nice. They spray your throat with this nasty banana-flavored topical anesthetic; and then poke that b*tch up your nose while instructing you to swallow and keep swallowing. Before they start poking up your nose, they LIE; and say that the banana-flavored crap is the worst part of the experience. Um, no; but thank you for playing. The insertion isn't too, too bad; but once you've had that sucker in for a couple of days, you have the most horrendous sore throat. The tape on your nose holding it in place starts losing its integrity; so you're left with the gooey mess and the feeling that your going to suck the now non-sticky tape into your lungs with every inhalation.

You should have seen me when I came out of surgery. My instructions before going in were, "If there's anything invasive you guys need to do, you'd best be doin' it while I'm still under; or it could get ugly." My wish was their command. I came out of that operating room looking like I'd been assimilated by the Borg. I had a Foley catheter, an NG tube, my IV shunt from the anesthesia and a TPN port for drawing blood and re-routing the IV for fluids and meds. I also had some mysterious, excruciating back pain. After lying there listening to the rhythm of the IV pump and the spasms down my spine, I realized THEY MATCHED EACH OTHER. The TPN port was hitting a nerve; and causing all sorts of Hell to break loose. After alerting the nurses, they promptly disconnected me and hooked me up via standard IV. (I still have the freakin' facial tic as a result of that mess. I'm hoping it isn't permanent.)

Where was I? Oh, yeah -- the celebratory cocktail after that NG tube came out.

The doctor had the nurses disconnect the tube from the suction that morning. The tube was left in place. They were testing to make sure my stomach wasn't over-producing acid and such before removing it completely. The instructions were that there couldn't be more than 50% residual stomach contents by the end of the day for the tube to come out. As the nurse measured that evening, the percentage kept rising. It finally peaked at 40%. WOOHOO! I looked right at her; and said, "C'mon. I'm ready. Let's get this bad boy out." They do that in one, big yank; and it's the BEST ever. I then told her, "It's a party in the Benderson room. Gimme my Demerol and Phenergan." After pushing it through the IV, I farted. (Yup -- I'm a 2-year-old; and that's funny. You should think so, too.) After announcing, "It's a party in the Benderson pants, too", I have the poor nurse laughing so hard she can't finish her job. I then check out my IV site on my arm. It had been sore all day; and the clear tape holding in the shunt looked like it was depressing into the skin. I alerted the nurse. "Hey -- this thing is sinking somehow." She comes over to investigate; but I stop her after a realization.

"Oh, wait. Don't mind the chick you just shot up with really good drugs. I'm imagining it."