"CANCERsumption."

It's been a little while since my lost post. I went back to treatment last week. I went in with such a strong, good attitude following my heavenly chemocation that I was sure my chemo-cocktail would be more tolerable. I was kind of wrong. The hand-foot syndrome (the side effect that interrupted my treatment schedule), came on quick and fierce during treatment. I received 2 liters of fluids on Wednesday. When it was time to have Merle (5-FU pump) removed on Friday, I could hardly walk. I had another 2 liters of fluid. Saturday I limped into the clinic for my Neulasta injection, and even with another liter of fluids, I was in bad shape. I was floating, but really really sick. I ended up in the ER hours later with what I was certain was a bowel obstruction.
What a frustrating time for me. I was so sick, puking and in such pain, but I was being treated by people that knew very little about my situation. A radiation oncologist that consulted with the ER doc was certain that I had an acute infection. Forget about the 5 pounds of stool plugging up my gut ... the docs at the hospital were way more concerned with my white blood count. And even after myself, my mom, and my husband all told them that it was going to be really high due to the Neulasta injection I had had a few hours before, they still admitted me.
At first I was like, "Yeah, a restful, quiet night alone in the hospital." What a joke. The nurses, CNAs, and housekeeping staff were in and out of my room throughout the night. And I was across the hall from the service elevator. And I was on a floor with a couple of combative patients. And My IV kept kinking and setting off alarms. And ...
I could keep going but I just summarize by saying that two nights in the hospital and over 14 rounds of IV antibiotics later, I was finally released to go home. And the "#2" issue? Was never even addressed. Thank God it resolved on it's own, yes?

I came home feeling good, although laying in that hospital bed for 48 hours did a real number on my psyche. I imagined things about my cancer, dark things, good things, finite things that shot my already intense case of "cancersumption" to a whole new level. You see, I went from living a normal life ... to Cancerland. The day before Thanksgiving, I'm diagnosed with late stage cancer and then catapulted into Cancerland just one week later with a port and my first round of chemo. It was quick. It felt violent. And ever since, most of my waking moments, I'm consumed with my cancer.
I worry about it. I worry that I'll never worry about it. I stress over my future and all the things I need to get done. Cancersumption doesn't just take up most of my mental energy. It creates this ongoing feeling of urgency that has been hard for me to deal with. I feel like I need to get as much done as I can, as quickly as I can. My bucket list was overwhelming before my diagnosis. Now ... it's a monster with a time limit. Not much can tame this particular beast. But little victories sure do help.

I'm feeling really really good. Little victory. Even though not a single blood culture taken during my hospital stay came back positive for infection, I'm thinking that the gallons of antibiotics I was given actually cleared up my hands and feet. Another little victory. I had a shamrock shake last night. A creamy little victory right there. I've started a NEW bucket list, a more manageable, reasonable one. BIG little victory. My CEA marker is at 3.06. Little victory? I vote yes!
And they all add up. I've decided that during my inevitable state of cancersumption, I'm going to try to focus on the little victories in my life more that what I need to get done.

After all, just waking up in the morning, having my husband, mom, kids, family, and dear friends in my life, listening to good music, watching my favorite shows, and indulging in a sweet treat now and then ... those are all little victories that make Cancerland/real life a happier place.

Carry on,
~K

The only pic I took of my hospital stay. I think I ate this???