Let me start off by saying that chemotherapy and targeted therapies are not fun. None of us like going to the cancer center because we all know why we are there. It’s unspoken. We are there because we have to be in order to save our lives. I do my best to change my frame of mind when I go. It’s my “me time.’ I try to dress well and look my best and bring things to keep my brain occupied so it doesn’t wander to “ahh shit, here come the needles and poison.” I have nurses who pop in and out of my room as well as the ladies who bring me my snacks. I also see the holistic nurse while I am there, or more like she comes to find me. We have these wonderful suites of privacy but sometimes I get a huge room… and twice I have had a roommate and it worked out well. Not this time…sit back and lemme tell ya a story…
I am nearing the tail end of my Herceptin and Perjeta infusions, this was 16 of 18. They typically take an hour. However, cancer is in the business of hurry up and wait. Once you resolve to own this tid bit, life gets simple. I know that I will be out of my house from 8am until roughly 1pm. I drop off my sons at school and haul ass to the hospital where I know it’s a slow process. No worries. The nurses and staff are phenomenal and make the time fly by fast. So what went wrong this time? My roommate was chatty patty who made me lose my shit...epically.
I was placed in the huge double suite again and knew I would have a roomie. Normally, we smile and the curtain gets closed and we are mindful of the volumes of our televisions, phones and voices. Actually, every single patient there is very mindful and respectful of this. My roommate burst in with a huff. I could see she was not a happy camper. So it began. She started with grousing about the bus schedule and then about having to wait. I am not sure what she wanted the nurse to do but the nurse was so sweet and sympathetic. I don’t like noise when I am jittery. Curtains were drawn. I had my privacy.
More people came into the room but I could not see anyone. A conversation began. Loudly. In my head, I was saying, “shut up, shut up, shut up…” Voices got louder. Now I was getting stressed. I could hear the entire conversation. I shall share with you bits of said conversation. “oh my, why so much blood? Do you really need all that blood?” “Oh snacks, I don’t think so, sugar feeds the cancer and makes the chemo not work,” as I’m shoving chocolates in my pie hole. Logically, I tried to talk myself out of anxiety. Sugar does not feed cancer. Moron. Please don’t say that to anyone as it is FALSE and scares the ever loving shit out of people like me. I actually went back to read an article on this at that moment to calm myself down.
“What are you all testing for? Gonna check my liver enzymes? They were high last time and I know my cancer is moving. Tumor markers too right? They gonna compare them, right?...” Shit, what were my liver enzyme levels? Cancer grows if it’s rising? Tumor markers? They never did mine. OMG! As soon as I realized I was logging into my patient portal to look up this stuff, which I have gone over with my oncologist several times, I knew I was about to lose my ever loving shit. So what’s a girl to? High tail it the eff outta there! Two plugs for my pole and the wires intertwined and a stool were making my getaway tough. So, I fell over the stool, dropped my phone and let out the proverbial profanity for the situation. How the hell is my name Grace? One nurse came and unhooked everything and I wheeled my pole and self out the door and down the hallway. Where the hell was I going to go?!
As I turned the corner, I could feel myself getting really hot. Miserably so. I found a nurse and asked her if she knew where my nurse navigator was because I wanted to talk to her. They all know me there so she said she’d send her to me. Now I’m getting really hot again. “Please don’t send me back to my room…” I pleaded in the smallest voice ever. She could sense I was upset and when she asked why, I let loose. Now, what happens to chemotherapy induced menopausal women when they get really stressed out? Hot flash from hell. This one did not disappoint. It was epic. It was as though Satan himself farted directly on my face. You’re welcome.
I was promptly switched to a private room and two nurses went to gather my belongings for me. My nurse navigator walked in and was already aware of the situation. Not only does she get the clinical aspect of things but she also understands the humanity behind it, with all of the emotions. She’s been a huge help for me since last year. When she hugged me, I broke down. Full on ugly cry. The conversation of the other patient caused me to panic and lose track of what I already knew. Here’s what I know.
Tumor markers are not a great indicator of anything for approximately 50% of cancer patients. That number is significantly lower for early stage folks like me. It is used with more success with metastatic patients. In fact, it wasn’t checked on me because of unreliability. I get that and I like that. False positives do nothing but instill fear and panic. Other blood levels work better at times.
I know I had the honey badger of chemotherapies. It gobbled up everything in its path. In theory, all of the cancer was removed at surgery. The chemo was a security blanket, just to make sure. I started with the red devil and finished with taxol. There’s nothing there. It has done its job. Once the Herceptin and Perjeta are done, so am I. I am LOW RISK of recurrence. That’s a beautiful thing.
Sugar doesn’t feed cancer. Ugh. It doesn’t. It doesn’t do anything but make you gain fat if you consume to much which will up your risk of cancer.
I said these things to her and she relayed that I am ok. I am going to be ok. I will have a long and lovely life after all of this. I will grow to see my grandchildren someday. I needed to hear what I already knew. For some reason, this time, it really sank in.
Maybe, in a roundabout way, chatty patty sending me into a tailspin did me a solid. By speaking with my nurse navigator, it was as though I took each fear and placed it into a box, which we closed, tied it up and put it away. Maybe the universe conspired to give me a gift I had so desperately needed since diagnosis. The gift of truly knowing I am ok is finally mine.
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