The Hospital Visit

This is the hospital I stayed at. It has changed a lot since then.

At work, I was having a little trouble concentrating and remembering everything that I was supposed to do. Normally, I was very organized and on top of things. My calender was constantly updated and I had reminders all day long of things that I was supposed to do. I guess I kept missing things, and a co-worker decided to tell my manager. My manager proceeded to come to my desk in the middle of the office and yell at me for not doing my job properly. I was understandably stressed out by this and struggled not to cry. My coworkers were shocked at this behavior by my manager, and tried to console me while doing their own jobs. I went home that night and complained to my parents. I wasn't feeling well, so I went to bed pretty early.

The next morning, I still wasn't feeling well. I had a bad headache, and when my mom came in to take my temp, I was running around 100. I was still determined to go to work, but I just couldn't get the energy to get out of bed. My mom panicked, and decided she was taking me to the hospital. She packed me all up in the truck and drove me to the ER. I slept most of the way there, and I really don't remember much about being admitted, just that I kind of “came around” when I was in a bed. I was hooked up to machines, and my mom was next to the bed half asleep, holding my hand.

When I was awake, I realized I had an IV drip of saline, and an oxygen monitor hooked up to my finger. I also had a blood pressure cuff that was on my arm, and was pumped up automatically every few minutes. It was really uncomfortable. Everything in the ER was blue: the curtains, the walls, the chairs, even the scrubs that nurses were wearing. I signaled to my mom that I was up, and told her I needed to call in to work. She said she had left a message with Maryanne's voice mail. I said that I still needed to talk to someone, just in case Maryanne wasn't in. So, they brought me a phone. I called and talked to Maryanne. At the point when my mom called, she would have been the only one there, since it was before 7. Now, it was after 10, and Maryanne had gotten my mom's message and had passed it on to my manager. She was terribly worried and let me know that everyone at work was thinking about me and were also worried.

I was running a low-grade fever and was dehydrated. They decided to admit me into the hospital for a couple of days. I was put on a gurney, and the cutest orderlies (do they still call them that?) wheeled me into an elevator and took me up to the women's ward of the hospital. There was not enough cancer patients for the hospital to justify having a chemo ward, so they put me in the next best thing. I got a private room, and a really nice nurse. She introduced herself and wrote her name, my room number, and the hospital phone number on a dry erase board, along with her pager number. I was feeling a little better, but they said I was still dehydrated, my blood pressure was too low, and my temp a little too high.

Soon, my oncologist, Dr. Sapra, came by to see me. He asked me lots of questions about the days leading up to all of this. Including – did anything happen to stress me out? I told him what happened at work the day before. He practically yelled at me - “What are you doing, still working???” I laughed and said that my family and I had decided that I should stick it out as long as I could. He stared at me for a minute and told me – no more work. I breathed a sigh of relief. I really didn't want to continue there while I was sick. I had tried so hard to make a good impression and I was screwing it all up with this cancer crap. I didn't want my good impression to turn into a bad one. So, I was ordered to relax and take it easy for a couple of days in the hospital.

I had a steady stream of visitors. Kim came by, and Elizabeth, Kari and Mark, and my parents. I was admitted on a Friday, and ended up being there the whole weekend. My mom had to work during the day on the weekend, so my dad would go pick up lunch and bring it by and hang out with me. Dad and I really didn't hang out a lot, so this was a rare treat. It still brings me to tears just thinking about it. He was so sweet. We watched bad TV, and talked about nothing. It was just nice to not be alone and to have some time with him. My mom would come by after work for a little while, and then she would need to go home to rest up for the next day. People brought me presents, and flowers, and cards. My parents brought by my blankie and my Piglet stuffed animal for comfort. If I hadn't actually felt like crap with a painful needle in my hand, it would have been fun. Except for the TV. I didn't have much to read, well I actually read through everything pretty fast, after my dad picked up a bunch of music magazines for me. So, I tried to watch stuff on TV. There were only about 5 channels and a movie channel. The movie channel had two movies playing on the weekend, so I think I watched Save The Last Dance 7 times. I never EVER want to see that movie again.

The food was surprisingly fabulous. I had filet mignon on Friday night. My dad was very jealous. He bragged to everyone. The breakfasts were pretty good and I think at one point, I even had a Caesar salad.

On Sunday afternoon, I was told that I would be discharged once the doctors filled out my forms. My dad waited with me for a while, but he got bored and asked if someone could pick me up. I called my friend Elizabeth who said she would, and came by at around 7. Finally, at 9:30, I was wheeled down to the door and she drove her car around to get me. She had a get well card and flowers in her front seat for me. She had also brought a very special friend, her Corgi puppy, Teddy. He was brand new and the sweetest thing ever. He cuddled up in my lap and made me feel so wonderful. Elizabeth was so nice to take me home and make sure I got inside.

My dad was still kind of up, and my mom was all ready for bed. She helped me to my room, and tucked me in. I tossed and turned for a while and finally fell asleep. Even though the hospital was nice, and the people were great, there is nothing like the quiet and comfort of your bed at home. And I never did figure out how the hospital pagers worked.

Questions? Anyone?

I am hoping to jar my memory or something. At this point I am drawing a bit of a blank. But, I'll get back on it.

So, I am opening the floor to anyone who has any questions... I have seen the keywords that people have used to find this blog, and for some of you, I may be able to help you.... that is what this is supposed to be about, well that and tel my story. So, please if you have any questions, please feel free to email me or post a comment. It makes me think more and may help me with some of my memories!

Thanks!

The Final Diagnosis

Just a medical exam room. Not the one I was in, ours was much smaller.

I was finished with all the testing. I needed to go in to see my oncologist to be staged in my disease and discuss treatment options.

Dr. Sapra was a very nice man, and from what I read later, he thought I was a nice lady, too. His office was in a building that was next to the hospital, four stories tall, and looked like it was made of windows. He was on the fourth floor, and waiting for the elevator sometimes felt like forever.

My parents went with me to this appointment. Mom, with a two page list of questions, and dad with a tape recorder. We sat in the waiting room for a long time. I had come straight from work, and mom and dad had come together from home. Dad had finally had enough (he wasn't much on patience) and after we had been there for about 45 minutes, he went out for a smoke. Of course, that's when they decided to call us in. Luckily, dad came back just in time.

We all shuffled into the tiny exam room and tried to find comfortable spots to sit. Dad ended up standing by the door, Dr. Sapra took the chair by the sink, I sat up on the exam table and mom had a chair by the window. Dr. Sapra took out my charts and looked through them, writing here and there. Finally, he talked to us.

According to all those tests, the cancer had not spread to my bones or blood (good!), but I did have a mass in my chest, as well as the tumor in my neck. Because of the location and symptoms I had had, I was a stage IIA/B. Both my tumor and the mass in my chest were on the left side. For some reason that made a difference. (Stage II A/B)

Sr. Sapra had not had a lot of instances of my particular disease come through his office at that point in time, and told us that he had consulted the oncology council for advice on how to treat it. He said that I could one of three things: Have chemo only, and hope that the disease would go away through that; do radiation only; or have both. At this point, he said chemo would probably do the job, but there would be tests as time goes on, to see what was going on in my body. He said it looked like the best formula for me would be a concoction called ABVD. Adriamycin/Bleomycin/Vinblastine/Dacarbazine. (ABVD) He thought that would most likely do the job for me.

I was to have chemo once every two weeks, and it would last for several hours. There were several side effects, like hair loss, weight loss/gain, vomiting, nausea, dizziness, shortness of breath, headaches, dry mouth, yeast infections in my mouth, chills, low blood counts, dry/painful skin, mouth sores, the list just goes on and on. I didn't have all of this stuff happen to me, but I had other things... We'll get to that more later. I was to report to his office for my chemo, and I would be sitting in the little room next to this exam office with a bunch of people. From what I saw, it looked like I would be fighting for seating. Great fun. Dad even asked if I was allowed to drink. Nope.

The doctor wanted to start me on chemo the following week. We made an appointment for the following Tuesday. I wasn't going to take the day off from work, but my boss told me it was for the best. She was sure that I wouldn't want to come to work afterward. Mom and I discussed my hair and we made an appointment to have my hair cut after the chemo. I was going to cut it short, and since my hair was really long, I had decided I wanted to either donate what was left or use it for a wig for myself. Dr. Sapra had said it was ok for me to continue working at this point and I let my boss know that I was ok to do so.

So that was that. Now, I just had to make it through chemotherapy.

Photo Credit

Bone Marrow Biopsy

Bone Marrow Biopsy Prep

As I have said, my editor is MIA, so please forgive the not so smooth flow of my future blogs.

After all those tests, I was informed that I needed to have a bone marrow biopsy. I had no idea what that entailed, and from the faces of people when I told them, I didn't think I wanted to know.

I set up the appointment, and I asked if I would need a ride home or anything like that. I was told not to worry about that. I had to do nothing to prepare. A person at work decided to try and tell me something about a giant needle. She loved to make me cringe and frightened.

I drove myself to my appointment. When I arrived, the girl behind the counter asked me if I had a ride home. I explained that I was told I didn't need one. She had me call my mom to arrange a ride home. Mom was not available, so I had to leave a message. I was not allowed to go into the office until I had a reply that she would come when she got off work. The nurse finally called back and they brought me back to the office.

There, I was weighed in and had my height checked. The nurse led me back to an exam room. Thee, I was instructed to take off my clothes and put on hospital jammies. They are a little different than a gown. They are made of cotton, instead of paper. The top goes down to about my knees and ties at the neck, leaving the back open. The bottoms are like pajama bottoms with a drawstring waist, just a little thinner. After I put those on, The nurse came back to check on me, and led me down the hallway to another, larger looking exam room.

The room was a yellowish brown, with lights, trays, and a large chair that looked like a dentist chair. The nurse had me lay down in the reclining dentist chair. She prepped my arm for an IV. She told me that she was going to give me Demoral, to help me relax and so I would not feel anything when they did the biopsy. The doctor came in and explained the procedure.

They would, indeed, take a giant needle and insert it into my hip, all the way through my pelvic bone, into the marrow. They would suck up bone marrow until they had enough to run the tests, and retract the needle. Then, I should go home and rest.

To prep me, they had me lay on my left side, so they could insert on the right side. Someone lifted back the hospital gown and I was told to pull down the pants to my knee. I did as I was told, and I felt something cold and wet on my low back. I was being sponged off. Then another sponge and more wetness, this time the wetness dripped down my hip and underneath me. I was suddenly terrified. The smell of iodine reached my nose. It was sterile, slightly sour, and unfriendly smelling.

Suddenly, there was pain. At first it just stung, then it ached. I was shaking and I started to cry. The pain slowly subsided, but I could feel this pressure. Just pushing and pushing me into the chair. The needle was thick and I couldn't feel it so much as be afraid of it. And being afraid made me cry even more. The nurse came around to the side of the chair that I was facing, and help my hand. She wiped my hair back from my face and told me I as doing ok. Once I started feeling the scraping of the needle against my hip bone, I started to sob softly.

The doctor scraped and scraped and I assume, finally got into my bone. I could hear the marrow being sucked into the syringe. A horrid bubbly, sucking sound. It stopped, and I could fell the pressure again, as the doctor removed the needle. After the needle was removed, I was cleaned up again, and I got a bandage where the insertion point was. The nurse had me roll over, and sit up. She explained that the “hole” would heal withing a couple of days, but to be careful when showering, because it wasn't a small hole.

By that time, I began to get kind of woozy. My mom wasn't there to pick me up yet, so I was asked to wait in the waiting room for her to pick me up. I started to try and read a magazine, but the words just blurred in front of me. So, I tried to concentrate on the TV. That was not working either. By the time my mom came in to get me, I was sliding off the chair and onto the floor. My poor mom had to get me into the elevator and get me down to the car.

She took me home and told me not to worry about anything, her and dad would take me back to my car the next day. She told me to go in and rest. I didn't need to be told twice. I went in and immediately fell asleep.

Photo Credit