Hats, Earrings, and the 30% Solution

Wednesday was the Hat and Earring Party. Nadine organized a lovely party which took place at my house. Many people came from various parts of my life. It was a potluck so there was lots of food. I got tons of hats and earrings. I took lots of pictures, one of each hat, but I don't know if they will post in such great quantities. This will be an experiment. Also, not all of the pictures are posted here. There are still more hats to be documented in this space. And I had to throw in a bald picture. I find it so odd to be bald. I tried changing earrings, but they don't show up in the photos.

It was so lovely to have such a supportive group of people there to see me through this. It is turning out to be quite the ordeal. I’m dreading the next chemo treatment, of course, and why not, considering how horrendous the last two have been. Dr. V. suggested cutting back the chemo by 20%. After the first treatment, it took twelve days to destroy my immune system. After the second, it took only eight days to destroy it, despite the addition of neulasta to the regimen. This tells me something. I took my trusty pendulum out to check how much the chemo should be reduced. The answer I got was 35%. If it was reduced by 35% I could still get the benefit from the treatment, but I wouldn’t necessarily wipe out my immune system. I asked if I could compromise at all. I got the answer that I could reduce by 30% but not to go for less of a reduction than that. Not that doctors listen to the results of pendulums. But they do listen to patients who refuse consent to treatment. I think I shall just put it to him that way: we reduce the chemo by 30-35% or we don’t do it at all.

I was just plain lucky that I didn’t come down with Howard’s virus during that last episode. He had a terrible cold when he left for the coast. If I had got that, I could have been down with viral pneumonia, which wouldn’t have responded to all the antibiotics they pumped through me. Furthermore, a hospital is not a great place to be when one is without an immune system, since it is a disease exchange facility. I’m just not ready to run that risk again.

Now that I have some white blood cells to lend to the fray, my hemorrhoid is finally manageable and I’m no longer in constant pain. For that reason alone, I want to either drastically cut down the amount of chemo or forego the experience entirely. I just don’t want to go through that again. I’ve had it.

Wednesday was the first day in a long while that I felt fairly good. I was able to stay up until 10:30, which was pretty good for me. Laurie Childers came up from Corvalis and it was such a treat to see her I stayed up as long as I could. Thursday was another good day. The sun was out so I walk to get my hydro from Lori, then walked back home. It was a full mile there and back, nothing under ordinary circumstances, but pretty good during chemo. I went to my support group last night and that was really helpful, as usual.

However, I have good days and bad days and today was a bad day. I couldn’t stay awake at all. I slept most of the day. I suppose, given my recent circumstances, any day that I’m not in pain should be considered a good day, so perhaps I’m not playing the Pollyanna Glad Game to its fullest extent. But I’m exhausted and I’m fretting about the next treatment. I just have to stand my ground on this one.

Today is the shortest day of the year. It only gets brighter from now on.