That’s the phrase that came to my mind as my friend, Julie, cut off my hair yesterday. On Sunday I was pulling it out by the handfuls so I slept in a shower cap that night, but that was a bad plan. My head was a sauna when I woke, but it did keep the hair off my bed. Julie wasn’t working on Monday, so I found a hair net in my antique collection and wore it all day. Every time I looked in the mirror with my flat hair, it reminded me of my Grandmother Hatch when she worked at my Jr. High cafeteria. In fact, my children wouldn’t be surprised if I told you I might have used this hair net in 7th grade cooking class. It was in a package of three priced at 29¢.
Russell and Aubri accompanied me as quiet supporters and watched as the shears gently revealed my little head. I had enough hair for three people, so I still have much stubble that will fall out over the next few weeks. I wear cotton night caps to catch it. Just think what I wouldn’t know if I hadn’t already been through this? It was still a courage moment for me, but knowing that it grows back, made it easier to face. (As well as remembering that it is cooler, less time consuming, and that it takes 1.5 minutes to don a wig.) I still do a double take when I look in the mirror and just smile. . . .
Today both my kids flew back to their homes in Nashville, TN and Provo, UT. As sad as it was for me sending them off, I know we are each where we need to be right now. Each on our own journey. I loved having them here, laughing, playing cards, and just enjoying being together while wearing our masks. It was what I needed to begin my healing and strengthening. My job now is to keep the momentum going.
I received this poem, during my first go round in ’08, from my sweet cousin who has also fought the cancer battle. I loved it then and had to reread it now. It’s message is for me with or without hair.
Attitude
There once was a woman who woke up one morning,
Looked in the mirror,
And noticed she had only three hairs on her head.
Well," she said, "I think I'll braid my hair today."
So she did.
And
She
Had
A
Wonderful
Day.
The next day she woke up,
Looked in the mirror
And saw that she had only two hairs on her head.
"H-M-M," she said,
"I think I'll part my hair down the middle today."
So she did.
And
She
Had
A
Grand
Day.
The next day she woke up,
Looked in the mirror and noticed that she had only one hair on her head.
"Well," she said,
"Today I'm going to wear my hair in a pony tail."
So she did.
And
She
Had
A
Fun,
Fun
Day.
There are some things that can’t be taken away from us! Love to all.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
There’s No Place Like Home! (click-click)
I•am•home! After two weeks in the hospital, I am loving being home--sleeping in my own bed, waking when I want, having my kitchen to decide what and when I eat, and showering-- little things I took for granted. However, I can’t say enough nice things about the nursing staff on 6th south floor at Banner Baywood. They are certainly some of the angels on my journey.
During the first week in the hospital I received continuous chemo for 6 days and nights. The nurses that hooked up the bags of chemicals wore a cover gown, heavy blue gloves, and goggles. I was blessed to have my body accept the chemo medicine without more than the expected side effects so it could attack the cancer. What they didn’t expect was my body to become so weak after the treatment. But now they know, the plan book is on the shelf, and we listen to my body. My blood count numbers took a dive (which they expected) but finally began to come up on their own after two blood transfusions and a platelet transfusion (which is yellow, by the way.) During my last few days in the hospital I became what they call, neutropenic. (With too much free time, I would sing the Mickey Mouse song with these letters--try it!) This meant my white blood count was below 2 and if I got an infection it would be hard to fight it on my own, so we all began wearing masks and I was content to confine myself to my room (which actually had a lovely window view of the east monsoon storm clouds.)
I have two weeks to get strong for my return on Aug. 31 for round two of the same chemo, if all continues to go well. So far, so good. I have even been able to stop my nausea medication. Sweet people are bringing me food, my lawn was just mowed, and I have two of my children (Russell and Aubri) at home with me until Aug. 25 when Aubri will return to BYU for her senior year, and Russell will return to his music and band in Nashville.
The best news is that the CT scan I had before I came home showed the chemo was doing its job to eliminate or shrink most of the lymph nodes. That helps motivate me to return for round 2.
Hospital Memories:
Two fire drill sirens going off twice in the same night. (Nothing soft at the bottom of my 6th story window--I checked.)
Mark’s regular evening visits.
My sisters and Dad coming to visit.
Singing Primary songs with Kathy (my sister) as they inserted my PICC line.
Eating a Chick-Fil-A lunch with Aubri when nothing else sounded good.
Talking on the phone with my mother during breakfasts to take my mind off the food.
Skyping on the computer with my granddaughters and singing, “Wheels on the Bus”.
The longer I go through this, the more evidence I see of the Lord’s hand guiding this journey. I’ve started a list (have you noticed I like lists?) and will share it another time.
I continue to feel of your love and support. Thank you soooo much.
I•am•home! After two weeks in the hospital, I am loving being home--sleeping in my own bed, waking when I want, having my kitchen to decide what and when I eat, and showering-- little things I took for granted. However, I can’t say enough nice things about the nursing staff on 6th south floor at Banner Baywood. They are certainly some of the angels on my journey.
During the first week in the hospital I received continuous chemo for 6 days and nights. The nurses that hooked up the bags of chemicals wore a cover gown, heavy blue gloves, and goggles. I was blessed to have my body accept the chemo medicine without more than the expected side effects so it could attack the cancer. What they didn’t expect was my body to become so weak after the treatment. But now they know, the plan book is on the shelf, and we listen to my body. My blood count numbers took a dive (which they expected) but finally began to come up on their own after two blood transfusions and a platelet transfusion (which is yellow, by the way.) During my last few days in the hospital I became what they call, neutropenic. (With too much free time, I would sing the Mickey Mouse song with these letters--try it!) This meant my white blood count was below 2 and if I got an infection it would be hard to fight it on my own, so we all began wearing masks and I was content to confine myself to my room (which actually had a lovely window view of the east monsoon storm clouds.)
I have two weeks to get strong for my return on Aug. 31 for round two of the same chemo, if all continues to go well. So far, so good. I have even been able to stop my nausea medication. Sweet people are bringing me food, my lawn was just mowed, and I have two of my children (Russell and Aubri) at home with me until Aug. 25 when Aubri will return to BYU for her senior year, and Russell will return to his music and band in Nashville.
The best news is that the CT scan I had before I came home showed the chemo was doing its job to eliminate or shrink most of the lymph nodes. That helps motivate me to return for round 2.
Hospital Memories:
Two fire drill sirens going off twice in the same night. (Nothing soft at the bottom of my 6th story window--I checked.)
Mark’s regular evening visits.
My sisters and Dad coming to visit.
Singing Primary songs with Kathy (my sister) as they inserted my PICC line.
Eating a Chick-Fil-A lunch with Aubri when nothing else sounded good.
Talking on the phone with my mother during breakfasts to take my mind off the food.
Skyping on the computer with my granddaughters and singing, “Wheels on the Bus”.
The longer I go through this, the more evidence I see of the Lord’s hand guiding this journey. I’ve started a list (have you noticed I like lists?) and will share it another time.
I continue to feel of your love and support. Thank you soooo much.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
New Perspective
Happy Sunday! I'm writing from my hospital bed on a laptop my sister loaned me, so that's a good sign. They are watching blood counts to see when they can release me to get stronger at home. I've given up the game plans of the normal chemo patient that was outlined to me. This is Karen's-sensitive to every medicine-body we're dealing with. I'm on a day by day journey now and it's OK. I'm finally noticing less resistance to the fact that the cancer has returned. It was just this week that I began to feel more of a submission. One nurse called this fight a commitment, but I've found I have to submit to this new journey for me ("opportunity", as Neal Maxwell would call it) and focus on what I can learn from it, before I can commit and I think that is coming.
When I first entered the hospital, my rebellious self resisted putting on the infamous gown. I knew once I did, I would be theirs! The thing about the hospital is you enter the Hospital Standard Time Zone. Forget the clock on the wall, they have their own watches set to HST. Here's the translation for when you are in their zone:
• Dr. says, "I'll send you back to the hospital through ER so you can get a bed sooner: 6 hours
Nurses' comments:
• I'll run and get it: 1 hour
• I'll be right back: 30 min.
• I'll get your nurse: 30 min. or during changing of the nurses: 1 hour
• I've called transport, they'll be right here: 30 min to 1 hour
I'm learning to go with the flow and am making good friends. It really takes a special person to be a nurse.
Thanks for all your love and support. I feel it daily.
When I first entered the hospital, my rebellious self resisted putting on the infamous gown. I knew once I did, I would be theirs! The thing about the hospital is you enter the Hospital Standard Time Zone. Forget the clock on the wall, they have their own watches set to HST. Here's the translation for when you are in their zone:
• Dr. says, "I'll send you back to the hospital through ER so you can get a bed sooner: 6 hours
Nurses' comments:
• I'll run and get it: 1 hour
• I'll be right back: 30 min.
• I'll get your nurse: 30 min. or during changing of the nurses: 1 hour
• I've called transport, they'll be right here: 30 min to 1 hour
I'm learning to go with the flow and am making good friends. It really takes a special person to be a nurse.
Thanks for all your love and support. I feel it daily.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
First Round of Chemo
Hi! This is Aubri! Mom asked me to update her blog. She completed the six days of hospital chemo and was released on Mon, Aug 9th. But after a short stay at home, she was sent back to the hospital on Tuesday to handle the symptoms of the chemo, mostly nausea and dehydration.
It's now a day by day decision when she's released. She wants to thank everyone for their support and prayers. She wanted me to post that the staff at the hospital has been great and that she couldn't do this without her family.
It's now a day by day decision when she's released. She wants to thank everyone for their support and prayers. She wanted me to post that the staff at the hospital has been great and that she couldn't do this without her family.
Monday, August 2, 2010
The Journey Begins
Whew. My mind is spinning after 2.5 hours of information from the stem cell Dr. Briggs, the case manager, the financial gal, and the social worker at Good Samaritan Hospital. My son, Mark, was my compadre through all this. I made the trip into Phoenix quite weak from lack of sleep due to increased sweats and a cough, and when I don’t feel strong physically, I begin to lose it emotionally. However, I noticed as the Dr. was talking to me about each procedure and side effects and risks, I was able to accept it with an extra measure of strength that can only come from Christ. He has felt every pain I will feel, He, and His many angels will be there every step of the way.
The plan also includes many caregivers necessary for home procedures and driving. I know much love will be shown during all of this.
So here’s the plan at this point. It will be a step by step plan, with each step dependent upon the success of the step before. I will enter Banner Baywood hospital tomorrow for the first round of strong chemo to begin the cleanse process. This will last 4-5 days. Then there will be a 2-3 week wait in between to get strong enough for the next round in the hospital. Dependent upon Dr. Long’s (my local oncologist) wishes, there may be a pet scan between rounds or at the end of #2. If the chemo has done it’s job of getting rid of the cancer cells, then I begin care from Dr. Briggs. She collects my stem cells which they will freeze and plan to reuse. While they are freezing, I will have more chemo which she said is ten times stronger that the two previous. (Yep, it just keeps getting better!) After seven days of that 10x strong chemo, they thaw my stem cells and put them back in. That begins the fun part of monitoring and praying as the cells begin to do their job again to take me from 0 on the richter scale of immunity, to a positive number. This takes up to 3-4 weeks in the hospital. I was reminded that cancer is not for wimps. (Repeat after me: I am not a wimp. I am not a wimp.)
Good news is that the cure rate is 60-70%. Without the transplant, 0%. Hey, I’m not a gambler, but I know which odds I’m going with.
So there’s the mini version of my life for the next several months. It will be a roller coaster, but I’m in it for the long haul! It could be the mini version of any of our lives, with different challenges, risks, and derailments. I have a strong belief that our lives are especially tailored for each one of us and that Heavenly Father is aware of our every need. Our job is to listen and be guided along that path with faith to move forward.
I remembered a favorite song that goes like this:
Step by step I’ll climb the steepest mountain.
Step by step I’ll cross the raging sea.
There is nothing I can’t do, doing it with two.
Dear Lord stay step by step, ahead of me.
We can do this! Love you all.
The plan also includes many caregivers necessary for home procedures and driving. I know much love will be shown during all of this.
So here’s the plan at this point. It will be a step by step plan, with each step dependent upon the success of the step before. I will enter Banner Baywood hospital tomorrow for the first round of strong chemo to begin the cleanse process. This will last 4-5 days. Then there will be a 2-3 week wait in between to get strong enough for the next round in the hospital. Dependent upon Dr. Long’s (my local oncologist) wishes, there may be a pet scan between rounds or at the end of #2. If the chemo has done it’s job of getting rid of the cancer cells, then I begin care from Dr. Briggs. She collects my stem cells which they will freeze and plan to reuse. While they are freezing, I will have more chemo which she said is ten times stronger that the two previous. (Yep, it just keeps getting better!) After seven days of that 10x strong chemo, they thaw my stem cells and put them back in. That begins the fun part of monitoring and praying as the cells begin to do their job again to take me from 0 on the richter scale of immunity, to a positive number. This takes up to 3-4 weeks in the hospital. I was reminded that cancer is not for wimps. (Repeat after me: I am not a wimp. I am not a wimp.)
Good news is that the cure rate is 60-70%. Without the transplant, 0%. Hey, I’m not a gambler, but I know which odds I’m going with.
So there’s the mini version of my life for the next several months. It will be a roller coaster, but I’m in it for the long haul! It could be the mini version of any of our lives, with different challenges, risks, and derailments. I have a strong belief that our lives are especially tailored for each one of us and that Heavenly Father is aware of our every need. Our job is to listen and be guided along that path with faith to move forward.
I remembered a favorite song that goes like this:
Step by step I’ll climb the steepest mountain.
Step by step I’ll cross the raging sea.
There is nothing I can’t do, doing it with two.
Dear Lord stay step by step, ahead of me.
We can do this! Love you all.
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