love is health
Health Update 11/2211/22/2013 First, thank you all again for your love/ support. I'm a pretty sentimental and social person. The flowers, encouragement, positive thoughts, and cheerleading mean a lot to me. Coming from a large family, I rely on others to see me through rough patches, so thank you for seeing me through!
I've been in the hospital since Wednesday night. Like The Great Tooth Debacle of 2013, I got a post-chemo fever indicating an infection. The difference this time is that my immunity indicators (specific white blood cell levels) were so low that I needed to be isolated until they come back to a more defensible level. To be clear - the infection doesn't cause the immunity problem - the immunity problem allows the infection. In other words - the fever was a sign that my immune system was failing. While I am generally pretty chipper and upbeat (and still am), things got a little scarier lately with having to be hospitalized. And while I know with absolute certainty my immune system will recover (it always does - this is just part of the process), there is something unnerving about knowing that there is very little defending my body from infection. If I caught something dangerous, there's not much my body could do about it. Right now, my poor little army (aka my white blood cells) are doing their damnest just to kick a flu. A stupid, silly, flu virus. I know I will be okay. In the interim - antibiotics and tamiflu keep my little army afloat, and keep other germs at bay. I will be at my treatment center/ hospital until my white blood cell counts reach a certain level again. That is unfortunately unpredictable, and comes with many a needle poke to determine. For folks in Phoenix, if you want to come visit, please do! Be forewarned - you will have to wear a face mask while around me, and you cannot visit if you were/ are recently sick. Text me for the address. U
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How a little tooth merits a 9-1-1 call11/5/2013 Hey, if you ever go through chemotherapy, be sure your oral hygiene is impeccable.
Oh, and did you know you actually have to, like, rest when you're on chemo? Especially 7-10 days after your last treatment? Yeah, I knew that too. But I was too much of a jackass not to believe it, and I ended up in the E.R. Stupid Chemo. For days I could tell my body was fighting an infection, but I was surprised to find that it was in the form of a tooth. On day 9 after chemo, I thought it would be a brilliant idea to help Luke out with yard work. YARD WORK. Because that's exactly what you should be doing when your immune system is the weakest! After about an hour, I was done for the day - energy completely depleted. Having spent an otherwise lovely Sunday brunch pushing myself through fatigue, I made the ever so wise decision to schlep myself through 3 hours of (much needed) errands with my bestie. Under the ever so intelligent guise of "I need to condition myself to be able to work through fatigue since I am starting a new job soon", I dragged my bones through the afternoon, until we were both noticeably exhausted and done for the day. By the time I got home, I crawled into bed knowing that my brunch time restlessness had billowed into something more ominous. I took my temperature, just to be sure I wasn't running a fever. 100.5. Damn. My care manager (AKA Oncology nurses) once told me if I ever got above 100.4, I would need to call them immediately, and likely go to the E.R. Remembering this, I called the on-call care manager, and she asked me a series of questions more or less equivalent to "you aren't dying right now, are you?" "When was your last treatment?" "Thursday of last week... no, the week before. 10 days ago." "Are you experiencing any pain?" Was I? I had to stop and think about it. I mean, I knew I was hella tired, but did I feel pain anywhere? Ow. My gums. "My lower back jaw is slightly sore, and my gums are tender to the touch. " "And you are currently running a fever?" "Um, yeah, but it's pretty mild, and frankly, I have been running errands all day, so this isn't likely a big deal." "Ok, well, you need to get to an emergency room as soon as possible. Can you do that?" Emergency room? Seriously? For a fever that is .2 above the normal range for an adult? Ain'tnobodygottimeforthat. "Can I go to urgent care instead? Or better yet - can I wait until tomorrow and go to the clinic and see my oncologist?" "Ma'am, fever in a cancer patient receiving chemotherapy is usually grounds for a 9-1-1 call." GULP. "Um, yeah I can get to Saint Joe's. I live about 5 minutes away." "Great. Get there as soon as you can. I will be sure they have your medical history asap. I don't want to downplay the seriousness of this situation. You need to be seen immediately." DOUBLE GULP. What I thought was just some mild fatigue from "overdoing it" suddenly transformed into a threatening situation. It is incredibly surreal to feel generally healthy and have someone passively indicate to you that your health is significantly compromised. Upon entering the ER and informing the admissions staff of my situation, they promptly had me take a germ mask, then a seat. Having heard "chemotherapy" and "fever", the hospital registrar didn't even blink before she called a nurse to take me back to an isolation room. Having waited no more than 10 minutes, my room was filled with 1 doctor and 3 nurses, getting vitals, sticking electrode thingies on me, examining me, and asking the same "are you dying?" questions the on-call care manager asked me earlier. My temperature at this point had gone up to 100.8. In my mind, there was still nothing to call home about. (Literally. I hadn't actually called my mom at this point). 1 pee test, 2 x-rays, 4 hot sauce bottles and 7 viles of blood later, I was hooked up to 2 different broad spectrum antibiotics, delivered via I.V. for over 2 hours. Much like chemotherapy, I was stuck to my plastic leash for a few hours, forced to watch football and Sponge Bob while eating subpar pizza. As the night went on, despite the antibiotics being delivered, my body got weaker, hotter, and weirder. I was shivering uncontrollably. Though running a fever, all I wanted was my TCT blankey, and I wanted to bury myself in cozy things. Luke, being ever awesome as always, joined me on the hospital bed, allowing me to mooch his heat and rub my face on his arm. Meanwhile, my teammates and I texted from great distance after their second victory for the weekend in San Diego. I wished I could have been with them, but was glad that I wasn't. Emotionally, it was sinking in that I didn't have control of my body. Tethered to my hospital bed by way of I.V., I had nowhere to hide from the fact that I was a Sick Cancer Patient. The gravity of the situation hadn't hit me before because I still felt healthy. However, after allowing a moderate fever to set in, given the shivers, the crying, the chills, and a racing heart - coupled with the I.V., electrodes & wires, and other monitoring devices, The Ish got Rill. All Clockwork Orange style, I was forced to see that my body had been, and still was weak. That maybe doing yard work was a bad idea. That maybe I should have been home resting Sunday morning/ afternoon instead of brunch and errands. That maybe I wasn't as strong as I think I am or want to be. Ahem. Ouch. There I was curled up fetally on a hospital bed shaking like a rattle, eyes leaking in halfhearted privacy as Luke gently pet my back. All I wanted was to be strong - to be healthy. To be driving home from a victorious weekend with my team. To be NOT in the E.R. Having been brought to my emotional knees, all I could squeak out through the tears, like a giant, bald toddler was "I wanna go home. I don't want to be in the hospital." My fever was peaking at 102 at this point. (If you haven't caught on, I have a really hard time with defeat, failure, weakness, or any indicator that is the opposite of strength. I'm beginning to realize it's why I am always busy, my time filled with one commitment after another. I am still untangling this life-long trend. When I figure it out, I will let you know. But more on the health front.) Fast forward through more football, checking out, going home, and getting through the night. I woke up the next day expecting the antibiotics to have taken effect, yet still running a fever and feeling like hell. After a few phone conversations, my oncologist recommended that I go to the dentist to get my tender gums checked out. A short, simple x-ray figured out what the ER staff could not confirm - I have an abscessed tooth. Turns out that my dentist has been eyeing this sucker for more than a year now. It wasn't an issue until my immune system crashed, allowing a delicate but well controlled tooth to get out of control and infected. By Monday morning I couldn't open my jaw entirely. After more phone conversations and doctors' consultations, I got the green light from my oncologist to have an emergency root canal. I've never been happier to have dental work done, and I probably never will be again. So, long story short: chemo = weak immune system. Weak Immune System + chores/ errands in days 7-10 after chemo = fever + e.r. + root canal + antibiotics. Moral of the story: Stay at home and in bed 7-10 days after chemo. The. End. AboutSnapshots in time across a span of years managing breast cancer Archives
June 2020
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