Good news & mixed emotions

It’s been two weeks since my last blog. My double mastectomy took place on 4/30/19, and I’ve just been spending these last few weeks healing.

In the days leading up to surgery I was extremely nervous, but on the day of surgery I felt calm and ready. Tyler and my mom came with to the hospital. I joked and laughed while we waited, and felt confident as they wheeled me away to the operating room. The last thing I remember is them asking me if I could scoot myself onto the operating table. I said yes, I could do it myself. I remember laying on the table, but nothing after that.

The next thing I knew, my eyes were blurry and I was begging for ice chips. Ice chips were a bad idea. I have trouble with anesthesia and for every ice chip I crunched on, I dry heaved 5-10 times. The night of surgery is all a blur. I vaguely recall talking with my friend Desiree, being happy that the surgeon saved my tattoo, tearing up when I heard I was kicked off the clinical trial because my lymph nodes tested negative, but otherwise I don’t remember much.

The next day was like learning to ride a bike. I had to teach myself to use my core muscles and legs to sit up, move, everything. My arms were useless, and when I did use them either accidentally or not, it was achy and made my chest burn. I was shown how to care for my drain tubes. I napped. I ate. I went home. I slept more. 

My husband, sister-in-law, and mother-in-law spent the week with me, helping me, taking care of me. By Friday, 5/3, I was functional enough to leave the house for my son’s musical in the morning, but took an hour nap when I got home. The boys had spent the majority of the week at their dads, but asked to come home on Friday night. They were sweet, helpful, and wonderful to be around after a long week. They went back to their dads after a competitive game of kick ball with their uncles in the backyard on Saturday morning. Seeing them was exactly what I needed, but it was necessary for me to relax as much as I could, so off they went.

I spent the weekend on the back porch or napping. My mom brought me a bagel and tea from Starbucks, Beth (step MIL) kept me company and watched Evelyn while Tyler got some shopping done and did things around the house. It was a good weekend for healing.

Tuesday, 5/7/19, while my brother was over helping me clean my house (because I basically can do nothing), my surgeon, Dr. Kepple, left me a voicemail. THE VOICEMAIL. She told me pathology confirmed my tissue had no residual cancer. I’m cancer free. I cried. I’m thankful my brother was with me when I listened to the message, because I wasn’t expecting such great news and to be honest it was a little overwhelming.

The next day Beth took me to my post op appointment. I was able to get one drain removed, Dr. Kepple and I rejoiced over the pathology news, and she was happy with how my incisions were looking.

Amazing news right? I’m healing well, I had a total response to chemo therapy, things are going so well. As of Monday, 5/13, all of my drain tubes have been removed, I had my radiation consultation the same day, and I’ve got one more post op appointment on Friday 5/17. Yet every time I text, email, or verbally tell someone I’m cancer free, I cry. They’re tears of joy, absolutely, but also that feeling of being overwhelmed with it hasn’t left me. I know what the issue is... I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. This is too much good news. I’m afraid something bad is on the horizon, and I won’t get to hold this happiness in my hands for long.

My next large event is Monday, 5/20/19. I am getting a hysterectomy. Thanks to my BRCA1 gene mutation I’m high risk for ovarian cancer. Since Tyler and I decided no more kids while I was pregnant with Evelyn, when the gynological oncologist recommended a total hysterectomy I didn’t hesitate. I scheduled it that day. 

Just like with the mastectomy though, as the day draws nearer I feel the anxiety and emotions building up. I’m nervous... 

what surprises me most, however, is how much I’m mourning the loss of my reproductive organs. The hysterectomy feels so... final somehow.

I’ve been struggling with this upcoming loss more so than the boobs. With them I was nervous for surgery; with this I’m sad. There is no logical explanation for how I’m feeling. I don’t want more kids. I’ve already started going through chemical menopause from chemo. Why does this upset me?  Again, there is no logical explaining that I can find. 

It doesn’t really matter... it’s all got to go! Anything that puts me at a high risk for reoccurrence has no room in this body. Bye bye!

A Goodbye Letter

I woke up Thursday 4/25/19, my last day of work before surgery with a terrible stomach ache.  Sleep has been hard to come by the last few nights. Tomorrow, 4/30/19 I say goodbye to a piece of me that people associate with being a woman.  

I am not doing reconstruction. It was a very personal decision for me, but I am confident that it's the right one.  I'll get a prosthetic pair if I feel the need.

It's a piece of me that I proudly used to feed all three of my children.  I will never again experience the feeling a satisfaction that accompanies being the sole food source for another human life.
It's a piece of me that I proudly used to seduce my husband.  I sure hope he likes the rest of me, or my personality or whatever. ;-)
It's a piece of me that when I was a tween, I would ask my mom why everyone else had them, and mine still hadn't grown yet. They eventually came through.
It's a piece of me I've always enjoyed having. I've enjoyed others', too, but mostly my own.
It's a piece of me I had wished were larger, but came to appreciate as I grew up.  
It's a piece of me that for much of my life growing up I was lead to believe defined a woman.

They do NOT define me.  A part of me will, however, miss them.

Dear Breasts,
I'm sorry it has to end this way.  I really thought we had a good thing going.  Unfortunately, trying to kill me crosses the line.  We have to go our separate ways.  There is no "working it out", and it can never go back to the way it used to be.  What you've done to me is unforgivable. When things were going well, they were amazing, but when things went south they were awful.  I appreciate the time we've had together.  The last twenty years have been great, but this is the end of the road. Bon voyage boobies, and please take your cancer with you.

Love,
Brave Betty

P.S. On 5/20/19 you can take your sisters with you - ovaries, Fallopian tubes, and uterus. I don't need them, either! Also, if you come back as metastatic cancer, I will never forgive you.  

Waiting is the hardest part

As Tom Petty once told us, "the waiting is the hardest part".  

My bi-lateral mastectomy is one week away. (https://www.cancer.org/cancer/breast-cancer/treatment/surgery-for-breast-cancer/mastectomy.html)  
My total hysterectomy is four weeks away. (https://www.mayoclinic.org/tests-procedures/robotic-hysterectomy/about/pac-20384544) 
Radiation is somewhere between eight to twelve weeks away. (https://www.cancer.net/navigating-cancer-care/how-cancer-treated/radiation-therapy/what-expect-when-having-radiation-therapy) 

As these new things approach my stomach is churning, my emotions are unbridled, and my mind keeps racing.  Sleep hasn't been coming easily.  When I do fall asleep, my dreams are vivid, chaotic, and bizarre.  I had no time to process being anxious about chemotherapy.  Within a week of my diagnosis chemo had begun.  There was no down time, just treatment.  Waiting for the next stages of treatment is hell on my nerves.  

Lately I've felt an overwhelming need to talk about it, but there isn't always someone there to talk to, and often times when I try to talk about it the words don't come out right.  When the words are flowing freely, often tears follow, which I struggle with.  I hate crying.  In other instances, the person I'm unloading on doesn't understand the significance of me needing to talk about it, or they can't handle me talking about it.  It's been a strange few days, and only seems to be getting worse as April 30th draws nearer.

I've never had a major surgery before.  I had a minor reconstruction procedure when I was eleven (1996), and I had a laparoscopic procedure when I was twenty-six (2011) to remove endometrial scarring in my abdomen.  The extensiveness of a bi-lateral mastectomy makes me feel light headed.  The unknown is my nemesis.  With the hysterectomy, it's being done in a laparoscopic procedure by a robot. I am not as tense about this one, because it's fairly non-invasive.  This mastectomy, however, has me feeling apprehensive.  It's odd... other patients and friends have offered to tell me things, give me pointers, offer some insight, and even when the give it freely I don't want it. I don't want to know.  It's a strange balancing act; nervous about the unknown, but not wanted to hear about others' experiences or get their advice.  I can't stop thinking about it, but I don't want to think about.

Radiation is a bird of another color.  It's only going to be four to six weeks, but in those weeks I won't be able to cuddle with my cat, dog, or my daughter. I should probably limit my exposure to my two sons as well.  That is tough emotionally for me.  I can handle it though, right? RIGHT?!? It's only four to six weeks... I can do this... I hope.

So, back to the bi-lateral mastectomy. It's been three weeks since chemotherapy has been complete. My hair on my head, my eye brows, my eye lashes, my leg hair, etc have all begun to grow back.  Every little ache and pain, however, sends me into an internal panic.  My cancer is in my left breast and left arm pit, but my right breast is sore this week. Boom - paranoia.  I had a sharp pain in my abdomen over the weekend (probably gas), but it sent me into a total crying freak out in the shower Sunday morning.  As fearful as I am of the surgery, I am also afraid of my own body.  It is absolutely terrifying and exasperating to be stuck in this piece of flesh that I know has a disposition toward cancer.  Is it mets? (https://www.cancer.gov/types/metastatic-cancer) Has the cancer spread?  Constant, never-ending fear is all encompassing.

I repeat; waiting is the hardest part.  The four weeks since chemotherapy has ended I have become more and more anxious.  Just one more week... one more week. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMyCa35_mOg

The Power of Pampering

Do not underestimate the power the pampering.

One thing that can't be avoided is the fear that accompanies being seriously ill.  It's hard to relax, it's hard to sleep, and sometimes it's hard just to function in normal day to day activities.  It follows you around.  Even when you aren't thinking about your illness, even when you feel normal enough to forget, it's only temporary.  Out of nowhere something reminds you, or someone asks "How are you doing" and the reality floods back, along with the fear.

Jeff, an old colleague and friend, Shelly, my mother-in-law, Barb, my mother's colleague and friend, and Becca, a friend of mine, all were kind enough to gift me massages over the last 6 months.  It's nice to be able to relax, forget, and just breathe for that 60 minutes of bliss.  All of the massages took place at Massage Envy  (https://www.massageenvy.com/massage/) except the one from Becca. She is a member at a place called Elements Massage. (https://elementsmassage.com/elm-grove)  While I was very happy with all of the massages at Massage Envy, the therapist at Elements was my favorite.  To say I always left feeling refreshed, relaxed, and positive after each time is an understatement.  A massage is the perfect break from everything going on.

Me and Becca - 2013

Karen, a nail technician at Craig Berns salon in Delafield (https://craigberns.com/) and fellow cancer survivor, gave me a pedicure on her own time at the salon.  Kaitlyn, my sister-in-law also works there, and they are an amazing group of women.  Everyone was very supportive when I was there for Kaitlyn to cut my hair at the beginning of chemotherapy, and everyone was just as kind and supportive when Karen did my pedicure.  It was nice to not only get pampered that day, but to have someone who understood what I was going through to talk to while it was being done. 

"Hello Gorgeous" Certificate

Me and Kelly from Gaia

Recently, my friend Jodi nominated me for a "Spa Day" for a program called "Hello Gorgeous" (http://www.hellogorgeous.org/) geared toward people with cancer. It's a pampering day for a patient, and it's done through Gaia Micro Spa. (https://www.gaiamicrospa.com/) Not only was this an amazing surprise by my friends, but the ladies at the salon were absolutely amazing, especially Kelly who owns Gaia.  It began with them all greeting me as I walked in with flowers, chocolates, and by all saying "Hello Gorgeous".  I received a shampoo, conditioner, a head massage, a facial, a manicure, a pedicure, had my make-up done, and also got to pick out a new outfit.  It was a whole make-over geared toward reminding me how beautiful I am. (I may not always feel that way, but I sure did on 4/11/19 when they did this for me.)  Later on when Jodi and my other girlfriend Stacey took me to dinner, I found that all of our friends, my mom, my mother-in-law, my husband, and my kids were all there with us.  I felt relaxed, amazing, loved, and above all grateful at the end of the day.

Rosie performing Reiki

Reiki through the hospital while receiving treatment was helpful to get me through the stress of chemotherapy. The benefits I found from Reiki were relaxation, the feeling of calm, it offered a break from overthinking, and I always felt positive and renewed for a day or two after.  I even went back on a day I had an appointment with my oncologist and met with the Reiki therapist Rosie and received it that day, too.  (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reiki)

I can't always do these things for myself, especially with my limited hours at work due to treatment.  My money all goes toward regular bills, medical bills, and groceries.  I can never repay those who have given me the gift of pampering during this time. I means more than I can express, and truly is the only time where I am able to forget the stress of what is happening to me and just enjoy being.  Do not underestimate the power of pampering.  Those few moments have been the best I've felt since diagnosis.  That kind of gift is irreplaceable.

I'm Not Dead Yet

As of tomorrow, 4/16/19, my surgery is exactly 2 weeks away. It's hard to believe a third of my treatment is complete.  Chemo is done, surgery is next, followed by PT and radiation. So many people think because chemotherapy is done that we're "almost there", but we are pretty far from "there".  By there, of course, I mean being told I am in remission.  As of right now though, I've still got a tumor lighting up my scans. This girl still has cancer.  I'm not dead yet, though!

Having to tell the people you care about that you have cancer is the stuff movies are made of.  Everything moves in slow motion, it's overly emotional, and it's hard to accept it as the truth.  It feels like just yesterday I was navigating through having to tell the people I love about my diagnosis.

I told my husband, my cousin, and my 2 closest friends about my cancer diagnosis before I let anyone else know.  (Aside from the few co-workers who passed me on my way out of work the afternoon of 11/1/19.) I did also call my ex-husband Ryan, and that one was out of fear of how to tell my boys.  Every single person that I spoke to that first afternoon had to hear it through absolute hysterics.  I could not stop crying, no matter how hard I tried.  I was trying to wrap my head around what was happening, and wasn't sure how to talk about it without breaking down.  I knew we had to tell people quickly because treatment was going to begin fast, but that didn't make it any easier.  I wanted to tell family in person, but in some cases that wasn't possible.  

I told my mom on the way home from my appointment with the oncology navigation nurse on Friday 11/2/19.  It helped that Pam, the navigation nurse, eased some of my fears and also gave me a timeline to work with as far as treatment.  When I got to my mom's house she was home alone, which was nice.  She and I were able to talk for 45 minutes before my brother Chris came home.  She wasn't shocked.  She knew I'd been to the doctor a lot that week.  When I walked in and we sat down in her dinning room, the first thing I said was "You know what I am about to say."  My mom responded "I do, but go ahead and say it."  So, I did.  She didn't flinch, her only reaction was to simply say. "OK, we'll get through it.  Whatever we need to do we're going to do it."  Damn, that woman is tough. 

My brother handled it better than I expected when he got home.  He pretty much ate through the entire announcement, asked a few questions, and got slightly choked up.  Having had some issues of his own recently, I expected a more extreme reaction, but he stayed strong and handled it well.  My mom said he wasn't as strong once I left, but I appreciated the strength he showed me while I was there.  My step-brother Josh arrived shortly after my brother, and he also handled it well.  He sat with me for a while after he learned the news and was very quiet.  He is only 15, though.  This is all very serious for him, and I think he wasn't sure how to react so he just cuddled with me.  I appreciated that.

The night of 11/2/19 I ended up having to tell my mother-in-law Shelly over the phone because she was going out of town the next day.   She was with her husband Jim and my sister-in-law Kaitlyn at the time.  They were out to eat at the time, and she'd gone outside to talk to me.  I knew she would tell them.  The conversation took about five minutes, and by some miracle I kept my composure even though she did not.  She asked for details, and I gave her the information I could at the time.  Through tears she managed an "Okay" along with a few words of encouragement.  She was nervous to go back to the table, and from later conversations I found out they packed up and left shortly after she returned.
The next day, 11/3/19, I told my father-in-law Gary, his wife Beth, and my other sister-in-law Gabby.  We went over to their house for about an hour to a visit, and while we were there we gave them the news.  They all handled it pretty well, no one burst into tears or had trouble talking about it.  They had questions, and Tyler and I answered the best we could.  Everyone was very supportive, and it was one of the easier times I had telling family.  It was my third go-round telling people also, so the facts came out more fluidly.  I was starting to become numb to the news.

Tyler, Ryan, and I tackled telling the boys together that same Sunday, 11/3/19.  We explained it in a simple way, and I didn't say the word cancer but my oldest, Desmond, knew.  His first question was "Do you have cancer?" followed closely by "Are you going to die" and he started to cry.  My response was simple:  I was going to do everything I could to NOT die.  Shamus ran around while we were talking, and although he paid attention, I felt like he didn't absorb the seriousness.  It wasn't until later that night that he started to show that he did understand the reality of the situation.  He has a little bit of anxiety, which I recognize because as a child I had it horribly after my dad went to jail.  He started to throw up.  He threw up randomly for about two weeks after we told him the news.  Every time he talked about it, thought about it, or pretty much any time he was at home he threw up.  Finally after two weeks I reached out to some friends and then called the pediatrician and asked for suggestions.  Both the group of friends and the pediatrician suggested sitting him down and giving him the treatment plan.  All he heard were Desmond's questions, and his understanding of the situation was limited and dark.  So one night Tyler and I sat him down, gave him the entire treatment plan, and asked him if he wanted to talk to my "special cancer doctor", which he did.  After all of this, he stopped throwing up.  Simple as that.

I told other close friends via text, call, or FB messenger before I went public on social media, as well.  Not too many, but some.  There are some people that you just do not want to find out from a Facebook post.  I also announced to work immediately.  As someone who suffers from anxiety, keeping it to myself would've made it more difficult to make it through the day.  Letting everyone know what was going on took a weight off of my shoulders.  I didn't have to hide my feelings, not that I could've anyway.  At least this way everyone knew what was going on, and there was no room for gossip or speculation.

After everyone knew what was going on I thought it would be easier, but that wasn't always the case. Mostly everyone was supportive and offered words of encouragement, or supported me in other ways. Sometimes people would start crying every time they saw me.  Sometimes people would tell me what a hard time they were having with my diagnosis. Sometimes people would say things like they wish they could forget this whole period of time.  It's awkward for me when these things happen.  Am I suppose to comfort them?  In some cases I tried, in other cases I politely avoided responding.

Selfishly, I have thought to myself that I'm the one going through treatment, I am the one being poisoned to kill the cancer, I'm the one who has to have two major surgeries and radiation in the hopes of being cancer free, and I am the one who will pray for the rest of her life that it doesn't come back somewhere else.  The logical part of me knows these people just care about me, and that's why they are having a tough time, but the emotional part of me throws the temper tantrum over having to bear their emotional cross with them, when I'm already bearing the cancer cross by myself.  Don't morn me. I'm not dead yet.  I don't want to forget any of this.  I want to remember how strong I was through it.

The World Keeps Turning

Major, heartbreaking events can make it feel like a person’s world has stopped.  It feels like everyone around you is moving on, and life continues, but you are stuck, even if briefly in that moment of misery.  Illness, loss of a loved one, divorce, and more can cripple you. Around you the world keeps turning.

I love both of my boys. They are my life, my heart, and my everything.  If I hadn’t married their father I wouldn’t have them, but I remember when I was going through my divorce in 2012 with my first husband.  I was young, and as I grew I expected him to also grow.  I can’t tell you how many messages, calls, and nights spent with my friend Dez I had during that dark time.  I was often a mess at work.  I worked with his dad and spent a lot of my lunches hiding, crying in my car.  I had a few friends at work who tried to help me through, too; Heather and Tyler.  In time, Tyler turned into more than a friend, but before that point there were multiple times he would walk over while he was having a smoke after lunch to catch me crying and try to cheer me up.  He was always trying to tell me to not worry. It would all work out with my husband because we had kids.  

During that time I tried everything I could think of to save our marriage; overwhelming him with love, boudoir photos for our anniversary that year (which I asked for during the divorce and never got back), screaming and yelling, I asked for marriage counselling (which I ended up getting my own during and after the divorce), and honestly nothing worked. A few moments during the thick of the “bad” stick out; asking him to stop spending money because we needed to pay our bills and him ignoring me, when I found out I was pregnant and his response was “Do we have to pretend to get along now”, when I miscarried that same pregnancy and got postpartum depression (partially hormonal, partially the state of our marriage – it was shortly after this I sought therapy) and he couldn’t figure out why I was so upset because as he worded it “it wasn’t even a real baby”, when I asked him to go to marriage counselling with me and he said “I won’t talk to you, what makes you think I’ll talk to a stranger”, or the worst was the shrug and “whatever” when I asked him if he wanted to get a divorce. Even now co-parenting with him is much the same; he doesn’t communicate well and can be very unkind.  I am not saying I am not at fault whatsoever; I had a fiery temper which I learned to control while going to therapy, but on occasion it still rears it's ugly head.

I told my ex as soon as I started seeing Tyler.  It was no secret.  We had decided to get a divorce, and Tyler was a distraction from the ugliness my life had become.  He was the rebound guy.  I kept him away from the kids for the first six months we were together because I figured he would be a passing phase to get me through the divorce, and I didn’t need the kids meeting someone that wouldn’t be in their life long term.  I tried to be transparent through it, but all these years later he decided to believe I was unfaithful. The world keeps turning.

Recently my ex let a bill with my name still attached to it go 6 months without paying it.  It started to adversely affect my credit score, so I paid the bill up to date for him.  I didn't want to deal with it while also dealing with cancer, but I kept getting debt collector calls for him for the bill.  I already have a running spread sheet of his half of the boys out of pocket expenses I haven’t been paid back for, so I contacted my lawyer. I had filed contempt back in 2015 for the same bill and other things previously.  I asked her to help me get my money back and my name off of this bill, as well as adjust child support to a more up-to-date amount since I started making more since our divorce finalization in 2013.  He’s started to communicate even less with me once he received the notice from my lawyer (which I didn’t know was possible) and bad mouth me (or oddly enough my daughter) on social media groups.  I have tried all these years since we separated to keep the peace for the boys. I shelter them from anything negative going on between us.  Trying keep the peace does not mean, however, that I will be taken advantage of. The world keeps turning.

In November 2014 my grandfather passed away from Alzheimer's.  He was the most significant male role model in my life, and even though it was expected, the blow still hurt more than I can express.  He and I were very close.  He built me up when I was a teenager and was always there when I needed him.  I prided myself in being able to smart mouth him when he was giving attitude, and our relationship was one that will never be replaced in my life.  I had no idea what to do in a world without him, but the world keeps turning.


After Tyler and I purchased our house in 2016, we decided to try for a baby.  I was pregnant fairly quickly, but when I was about 7 weeks pregnant I started to bleed.  (Cue flashbacks to my miscarriage.)  I went to the ER, and the baby was okay.  I had something called a subchorionic hemorrhage.  The baby was at risk until about 20 weeks of pregnancy, my doctor said it was a 50/50 chance I could lose the baby, and I was told to take it easy until week 20. I was mentally and emotionally wrecked. I bled consistently from that day until I was 14 weeks pregnant. Tyler kept the faith, and kept telling me everything would be fine. It was hard for me to be excited at any point during my pregnancy. I felt some excitement when we found out the baby was a girl, I documented my belly growth in pictures, and I kept my anguish for the most part off social media. I was nervous until I was about 35 weeks pregnant (a week after my baby shower.) My daughter was born on her due date, and the world keeps turning.

When my daughter was 5 weeks old (June 2017) my mother had a major heart attack and was hours away from dying according to her cardiologist.  I kept my cool most of that day, because she was alive. She hadn't died.  The seriousness of it all hit me later that night.  My father and his wife had left us some gifts for the kids on our back porch that day while I was at the hospital, and Tyler sent them a quick "Thank you" text to let them know we received it. I was scolded later by his wife because our thank you wasn't detailed enough, and she expected to know exactly what the kids thought of the gifts.  I explained the day had been hectic, but that everyone enjoyed the gifts.  A few months later my father and his wife cut ties with us over another text misunderstanding.  My mother is still alive, and she is doing well. The world keeps turning.

Then on November 1^st, 2018 I found out I had an aggressive form of breast cancer and was in for, literally, the fight of my life.  The world, well, it keeps turning.

Cancer, Chemo, & Kids!

There is nothing more terrifying than having three small children (10, 8, & 2) and being diagnosed with a life threatening disease.  As if a cancer diagnosis isn't enough to be threatening your life, having to undergo chemotherapy with school age and under children is absolutely nerve racking, too.  You are hit with this reality that you are about to be immune-compromised along with battling cancer.

My first thought after being diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer was "I DON'T WANT TO DIE".  After finding out I had a long chemo road ahead of me, again my thoughts fell to "Oh no, what if I get sick and end up in the hospital with some kind of complication like pneumonia because I'll have no immune system!"  Working full time through treatment was also scary, but nothing is scarier than germ factories... I mean children.  Schools and daycare are festering pools of yuck.  Tell me I'm wrong!

It's hard to take a deep breath when every cell in your body is screaming to survive, but surviving isn't easy anymore.  Luckily throughout chemo I managed to keep myself relatively healthy with a few hiccups.  We had help, to be honest.  The boys father, my ex-husband, either took the boys if we knew an illness was imminent, or kept them in some cases when they came down with something while he had them at his house.  This was one of the most helpful things while going through chemo.  It wasn't a catch all, but boy did it do wonders.  My in-laws took Evelyn if she was sick, and sometimes just to be nice so I could rest. All of this help ensured not only the kids were safe, but so was I.

The first time I caught something the kids brought home was the week before Christmas.  All three kids; Desmond, Shamus, and Evelyn, came down with a cold.  This could wasn't horrible, but enough that I had to skip chemo the week I came down with it.  All of us had low grade fevers, nasal congestion, and a slight cough.  Luckily we were all better within a week, but I can tell you the entirety of that week I paid extra close attention to my body. 

The second time the house was overrun with illness was the stomach bug in mid-January.  There wasn't anything that could be done.  The boys came home after school on a Thursday.  Hugs and snuggles were shared Thursday before bed, normal night.  Unfortunately Shamus began throwing up a few hours after he went to bed.  You might be asking "Why not send him to his dad's house?" Well, let me explain... my stomach had begun hurting shortly after waking up with Shay.  While I was helping him in the bathroom, bleaching, cleaning, all the while with a mask on to protect myself, it was already too late.  All the snuggles the night before must have done me in.  I never threw up to the extent Shamus did, but boy was I sick.  My husband Tyler got the bug, too.  Desmond and Evelyn lucked out and didn't get sick.  This illness lasted about 3 or 4 days for all of us.  Again, I tried to stay in-tune with my body and watch for signs of more serious complications.  Once I shook the stomach cramps, though, we were all good.

The last time I got sick during treatment, believe it or not, was the worst.  At the beginning of March Desmond came home with a cold.  It didn't seem bad at the time, and he'd had it for over a week so I figured it was lingering because the weather had warmed up and he also suffered from allergies.  That was not the case.  Evelyn caught the cold shortly after, as did Shamus.  The boys are fairly good at washing hands, but there is nothing you can do about a 23 month old with a running nose.  She was a mess.  I was on every other week chemo's at this point, and the day before receiving chemo I felt like I might be coming down with the cold, but it didn't seem too bad.  Two days after getting chemo, however, I was sicker than a dog.  Bad sinus and chest congestion, low grade fever and body aches.  The rest of the house got over the cold within 2 weeks, but mine just would not quit. I had a lingering, painful cough going on 3 weeks when I finally called my oncologist. Like I mentioned above, I was trying to pay attention to signs my body was giving me, and my body was angry and would not give me a break.  My oncologist wrote me out a prescription for a Z-pack in the hopes we could avoid me getting pneumonia.  Within the first two days of the antibiotics my cough no longer hurt, and a few days after completing the prescription I finally felt better.  It took me a good week longer than the rest of the family, and the help of a prescription to get over the illness, but I didn't end up in the hospital.  I am thankful for that.

The kids were sick here and there between and after these times, but I was able to avoid catching it.  One of those times included my last round of chemo that you can read about in my previous blog entry.  We also just got over a bought of another stomach bug that flew through the house the first week of April.  I got hit with this one, but with chemo being done I didn't feel as afraid.  Not to mention, while Shamus was laid up for 4 days, I felt better after 2, which I took as a good sign that my immune system was back up and running.


My very favorite thing about my life is my children. I love being a mom, but hot damn germs are scary!