Category Archives: Chemotherapy

Bushy eyebrows

Posted in Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Treatment by

I’m developing the opinion that thick eyebrows are fantastic. They give definition, they accent . . . they’re beautiful.

Many years ago at camp (I think I was about 14) girls were observing each other’s eyebrows. This one girl whose sister was a model was showing us how to pluck. Start at the bottom, not the top and create a smooth line.

Bollocks. I love my bushy eyebrows. Okay, maybe there is the occasional creeping hair that ought to be removed – and I say ‘ought’ because I never get around to plucking it away. But strong brows make for strong looking women. Of course, back at fourteen I didn’t have the same opinion and instead stared in the mirror and wondered whether I was stripping away enough, but I wondered similar things about my makeup, my pimples and my entire appearance. “Why don’t boys like me?” etc. If you were to see a picture of 14 to 16 year old Catherine, you’d see a girl in oversized sweatshirts, her father’s jeans, and totting a whole lotta awkward.

In the past couple weeks my brows have started fading. First they became more polite; now they’re straight out meek. So finally I see what Catherine of the plucked brows would look like, which brings me to this posting and my love of the full-on brow.

Wear them thick, wear them proud. Eyebrows: good for the face, great for expression.

I have some brow powder in the bathroom awaiting the day when all the hair falls out and I need to revert to makeup. Or maybe I’ll switch my glasses for some really high, thick frames.

And that is my bit about eyebrows. This is well and truly a girl’s blog.

Lucky number seven

Posted in Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Treatment by

And now the calendar pages start flying from the wall. Flip-flip-flip-flip. Just like a movie.

Is it Friday already? Wow. In a  matter of hours I’ll be back in that green easy chair doped out of my head and receiving treatment. Then, in a matter of a few more hours, I’ll be back home in my blue sheets with the pink roses, sleeping it all off.

I asked time to fly. It is flying. Maybe I should have asked time to just fast forward instead so that I don’t need to actually experience all this chemo, but can still reap the benefits.

Ok. No more moaning!  It’s chemo day again! Treatment seven.

Yesterday Zsolt and I went in for my blood and consultation. This week our consultation was with the lead nurse – she’s the curly haired woman who arranged for my picc line. Definitely likeable. There’s a willingness to help that I feel more inclined to tap compared to the doctor team. For instance, my chemotherapy was meant to be at 9.30 am today. Maybe for the seasoned morning person that’s a good time. For me, it’s just . . . just . . . unimaginable. I’ve never been my best during the morning, and for something so BIG it’d simply be a train wreck.

Well, she fixed that problem in a second. Now my chemo is at 1.00 pm today.

And we talked about going home. “Okay, so how are your plans around going home?” Did she remember? Is it detailed in my chart? HOW do all these people know my story? (this blog is not advertised within the hospital for fear of offense)

I told her we still hadn’t decided and that I honestly felt quite torn. From there followed a chat about ideal vs. optimal treatment. She said that paxlitaxol is a very good drug for treating breast cancer, but also relatively new so it may be difficult to find studies that follow success rate in terms of number of treatments. So ideally I’d have all twelve treatments on schedule. That would be ‘best case’ scenario.

But don’t many people stop early? I asked.

Yes. People can stop at nine, ten, eleven treatments depending on their reaction. Apparently the tingling felt in the fingers and toes isn’t temporary – it’s permanent . . .like, lifelong. So, they carefully monitor how much sensation you feel in your fingers, whether you can pick things up, whether you stumble on the stairs, etc. If it’s gets too extreme they stop.

And here she mentioned something called ‘optimal treatment’, which is about 80-85% of treatment on schedule. At this moment, I’m still having optimal treatment despite my fever last week and my bad platlett count a while back. If you have optimal treatment then things are looking good.

But again – with this drug, there aren’t many (or any??) long term studies with hard(er) numbers.

So here is what Zsolt heard from this conversation:

You gotta do all twelve.

Here is what I heard from this conversation:

You only have to do 85%.

What was the real message? Probably this:

Decide for yourself, because I can’t tell you.

Next week I think we’ll make our final decision. The nurse is going to arrange for us to meet with the lead oncologist – the guy to which everyone refers – so we can have a direct conversation. Honestly, I can see now what he is going to say. But I want to have that talk. And next week, after that talk, I will make a decision and stick to it (for goodness freaking sakes already, Catherine!).

Here is a bit of really nice news: My fingers, so far, are fine. I haven’t had any tingling or weird reactions. I hope I don’t ever have that sensation. Every week I paint my fingernails a dark blue/purple. One of the nurses once mentioned that sometimes this helps with the tingling, so I’m hopeful!

Ok, that’s it for now. Yesterday while going to the hospital there was that familiar dread in the pit of my stomach. It sits there and begins to swell as I walk into the clinic. If only they could surgically remove the fear, this would all be fine. And today is also Zolodex day. Anyone care for a giant needle in the belly? Ugh. But it’s for the babies. The future babies.

I think a little meditation is required – so that’s what I’m going to go and do. Breath in, and out, and in, and out. Followed by a little punching and bombing and kicking around my bedroom.

See you on the other side, as always.

No, it’s a white blood cell!

Posted in Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Treatment by

I’m trying to encourage my immune system to step things up. Therefore, today, I honour my white blood cells through art – like an overenthusiastic talk show fan with far too much time. Oh mighty white blood cells rocketing like meteors through my blood stream, please keep up your strength and find any potentially lingering cancer cells floating around.

Seek. Kill. Destroy! Ah, hahaha!

And now I sound like an evil villain. But honestly, isn’t seeking and killing and destroying exactly what needs to happen? Yes, it is. So – Ah, hahaha!

With this new chemotherapy drug my body experiences less exhaustion, so I’d like to use my extra energy to address the cancer (preferably my lack of cancer, but because there is no test to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ as to whether it’s still in my body, I will just say – address the cancer)

But honestly, chemo or no chemo, cancer still scares me. How can I work on a problem that makes me contemplate life expectancy? I guess that’s the challenge.

I know that I don’t want to get cancer ever again. I know I don’t want to do chemotherapy ever again. I am 100% positive that I’m ready to get on with my life, totally cancer free. If I can’t be sure of my chances, I can at least be sure of these things. It’s a starting point. Funny how these starting points keep appearing and reappearing. Mood goes up, gets knocked down . . . and there is another starting point.

Today I will try and focus on having a  really healthy immune system, which targets any oddities and removes them from my system. I’ve drawn the picture, and now I’ll try and write about it – in private, away from the blog.

Honestly I just wanted to show everyone my superhero white blood cell. Sometimes it feels like I’m still in grade school doing show and tell. “Hey, look what I did!”


PS – Zsolt just introduced me to Purple Rain. Twenty eight years old, and I’ve never heard this song before!