I may have mentioned in previous posts that I understood that if my tumours continued to shrink, I might get a break from chemo this fall, while I would continue with the drugs Herceptin and Pamidronate (the cancer-stopper and bone-builder, respectively). I knew that because I have advanced breast cancer that I'd be on and off chemotherapy for the rest of my life. Apparently it will be more "on" than "on and off."
Last Friday, Geoff and I met with my wonderful oncologist to get the results of my latest CT scan. We got good news. The tumours in my liver continue to shrink. They are still numerous, but under 1cm in size, except for one. That last large tumour has continued to shrink and is now about the size of the end of my pinkie finger. By the way, my blood tests for some time have shown that my liver is functioning well despite the tumours. I figure that if my liver can live with cancer, so can I. The tumours in my bones appear to be stable; no better, no worse. Contrary to what I was expecting, there were no new fractures. I believe the CT looked at my breasts too. The results didn't give any measurement of the original breast tumour. I don't know if that means it's completely gone or if they just didn't measure it. It doesn't really matter.
My oncologist reminded me that Stage IV breast cancer is a chronic disease. Like other chronic diseases, such as diabetes and even depression, medical treatment doesn't take a break. He also explained that the unfortunate reality of breast cancer is that, eventually, each chemo medicine stops working. He hopes to get as much benefit as possible from each chemo treatment. So, I will continue to get Taxol every three weeks, "as long as it is working and it is well-tolerated."
I have to be honest, I was disappointed to get the news. Somehow, I'd dreamed up a chemo-free future where, for one thing, it might be easier to return to work. I have to rethink things. I have to accept that the chemo will continue. So every three weeks I will have a few days where I feel tired and nauseous, and have sore fingers and toes (my weird side-effect). I don't know how well my hair will continue to grow. My chemo-brain syndrome will continue to interfere with my speaking.
I get a tiny break though. No chemo on September 28; I start again October 12. That means I won't be recovering from chemo when I do the Run for the Cure on the 30th, that I can attend a retirement party on the 28th, and that my nephew's wedding won't be on a chemo weekend. See? All good.
Showing posts with label blood tests. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blood tests. Show all posts
Friday, 21 September 2012
Tuesday, 17 January 2012
Wish Me Luck: Oncology Appointment & Test Results
Tomorrow I'm meeting with my oncologist. At least, I hope it's my oncologist; often it's one of the GPs that assists him. They are very good, but I want to see the big guy. Particularly this time. Last week I had an echocardiogram and a CT scan and I will have blood tests done just before the oncology appointment. I really want my oncologist to give me the results, particularly if it means he's going to change my treatment plan. As his nurse suggested at my last appointment, I will call her and remind her that I'd like to see the big guy; she'll do her best.
The echocardiogram was to check my heart health, because herceptin treatment is tough on the heart. I know that the chemo treatment caused me to have high blood pressure, which is being treated effectively with metoprolol. The CT scan looked at my breasts, abdomen and pelvis. It should tell me the size of the breast and liver tumours. I hope the CT scan will also tell us how well my broken pelvis is healing. It's feeling better every day, as far as I can tell. But I'd like a second opinion. The blood tests, together with the others will decide whether I have chemo on Friday or not. I need to have sufficiently good results in a number of areas, such as my blood count and calcium levels.
Like I said, my pelvis seems much improved, and I've told you that the breast tumour has shrunk quite a bit. But I am worried about the one-month break from chemo as a result of my hospitalization in November. I know that radiation was working on killing cancers in my lower spine and pelvis at that time, but how much was cancer growing in other areas over that period of time. What will the CT results tell us? Do I have less cancer or more? Are my tumours bigger or smaller? Are there new ones or did some disappear?
How much has chemo and radiation helped? How much has prayer helped. We'll never know, but there's time enough for a little more prayer before the appointment Wednesday at 3:00 p.m. Eastern Time. Wish me luck, pray for me, whatever you're comfortable with. And I'll let you know how it went as soon as I wrap my mind around it!
The echocardiogram was to check my heart health, because herceptin treatment is tough on the heart. I know that the chemo treatment caused me to have high blood pressure, which is being treated effectively with metoprolol. The CT scan looked at my breasts, abdomen and pelvis. It should tell me the size of the breast and liver tumours. I hope the CT scan will also tell us how well my broken pelvis is healing. It's feeling better every day, as far as I can tell. But I'd like a second opinion. The blood tests, together with the others will decide whether I have chemo on Friday or not. I need to have sufficiently good results in a number of areas, such as my blood count and calcium levels.
Like I said, my pelvis seems much improved, and I've told you that the breast tumour has shrunk quite a bit. But I am worried about the one-month break from chemo as a result of my hospitalization in November. I know that radiation was working on killing cancers in my lower spine and pelvis at that time, but how much was cancer growing in other areas over that period of time. What will the CT results tell us? Do I have less cancer or more? Are my tumours bigger or smaller? Are there new ones or did some disappear?
How much has chemo and radiation helped? How much has prayer helped. We'll never know, but there's time enough for a little more prayer before the appointment Wednesday at 3:00 p.m. Eastern Time. Wish me luck, pray for me, whatever you're comfortable with. And I'll let you know how it went as soon as I wrap my mind around it!
Thursday, 5 January 2012
What is that bump on her arm? The PICC Line
If you have seen me since the end of October, you may have noticed a bandage on my upper left arm or maybe you saw a bump under my sleeve. What's up with that? It is a PICC line, or a peripherally inserted central catheter. Essentially, it is an intravenous access to my superior vena cava. What it looks like is an IV tube sticking out of my arm, with a bandage behind it. I like to think it makes me look a little like Seven of Nine, but maybe not.
By the time I first saw the medical oncologist back in October, my arms were black and blue from all the blood tests I'd had. The technicians were having a really hard time getting at my veins. Sometimes two, three or four attempts were needed before they could get the blood they needed. Meanwhile, blood was pooling under my skin and the bruises were lasting up to a month. That didn't bode well for chemotherapy.
But there are options for chemo, since they expect our veins to get a rough workout. Sometimes a Port-a-Cath is used. In that case, a device is implanted below the skin near the collarbone and injections are made directly through or into it. The Port-a-Cath has the advantage of being totally sealed, so bathing and even swimming are no problem. Unfortunately, I develop keloid scars, which could easily be triggered either by the implanting of the devise or by the repeated injections into it. I didn't want to take that chance, so chose to go with the PICC line.
The PICC line involves a single injection in hospital, followed by a chest X-ray to ensure the line is in the proper place. There was no pain at all involved in the installation of the PICC line and I don't feel it all (a very, very few people do feel it).
PICC line care is fairly straightforward. I need to keep the dressing dry, so I have bought a bunch of plastic sleeves at the hospital to wear during showers. The dressing also needs to be changed weekly. A home-care nurse comes every Friday to change it.
No more injections, no more bruises. The nurses use my PICC line for everything now. The chemotherapy IV is connected to the PICC. My blood tests, required a day or two before every chemo session, are also taken through the PICC line. My pain pump, which was originally installed in another part of my arm subcutaneously, is now connected to the PICC line, which I am told works more effectively. And when I was in the hospital in November, they used the PICC line for my IV fluids, antibiotics, blood transfusion, and other medication.
One time that I was at the Cancer Centre for blood tests, I was given a fabric PICC line cover that volunteers had provided. It was made of a subtly patterned white material. It dresses up the PICC line a bit compared to the hospital's usual elastic bandage. Geoff and I were thinking, however, that it would be easy enough to make up a bunch of fabric PICC line covers in a variety of attractive colours and patterns. I even bought some yarn with the intention of crocheting a black cover. Black goes with everything, of course.
Apparently, the PICC line can be left in place for as long as a year. If that saves me the poking and prodding and bruises of the average blood test, I'm happy to have it!
By the time I first saw the medical oncologist back in October, my arms were black and blue from all the blood tests I'd had. The technicians were having a really hard time getting at my veins. Sometimes two, three or four attempts were needed before they could get the blood they needed. Meanwhile, blood was pooling under my skin and the bruises were lasting up to a month. That didn't bode well for chemotherapy.
But there are options for chemo, since they expect our veins to get a rough workout. Sometimes a Port-a-Cath is used. In that case, a device is implanted below the skin near the collarbone and injections are made directly through or into it. The Port-a-Cath has the advantage of being totally sealed, so bathing and even swimming are no problem. Unfortunately, I develop keloid scars, which could easily be triggered either by the implanting of the devise or by the repeated injections into it. I didn't want to take that chance, so chose to go with the PICC line.
The PICC line involves a single injection in hospital, followed by a chest X-ray to ensure the line is in the proper place. There was no pain at all involved in the installation of the PICC line and I don't feel it all (a very, very few people do feel it).
PICC line care is fairly straightforward. I need to keep the dressing dry, so I have bought a bunch of plastic sleeves at the hospital to wear during showers. The dressing also needs to be changed weekly. A home-care nurse comes every Friday to change it.
No more injections, no more bruises. The nurses use my PICC line for everything now. The chemotherapy IV is connected to the PICC. My blood tests, required a day or two before every chemo session, are also taken through the PICC line. My pain pump, which was originally installed in another part of my arm subcutaneously, is now connected to the PICC line, which I am told works more effectively. And when I was in the hospital in November, they used the PICC line for my IV fluids, antibiotics, blood transfusion, and other medication.
One time that I was at the Cancer Centre for blood tests, I was given a fabric PICC line cover that volunteers had provided. It was made of a subtly patterned white material. It dresses up the PICC line a bit compared to the hospital's usual elastic bandage. Geoff and I were thinking, however, that it would be easy enough to make up a bunch of fabric PICC line covers in a variety of attractive colours and patterns. I even bought some yarn with the intention of crocheting a black cover. Black goes with everything, of course.
Apparently, the PICC line can be left in place for as long as a year. If that saves me the poking and prodding and bruises of the average blood test, I'm happy to have it!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)