Much as I've tried to avoid it, it's been dogging me for several days. I have this feeling that something really bad is just around the corner. I hope it's just my subconscious dread of the chemotherapy that starts in less than two days.
I got all my hair cut off last Saturday, and I really like it. I go to Tiffany at Burt Grant Salon, and she does a great job (her prices are reasonable, too). She mentioned as she was getting started that the back was really curly; when she started cutting the front, I noticed the same thing. The last time I had my hair really short was in 2005 when we went on safari in Tanzania, and it had a bit of a wave, but now it's really curly. I don't have any pictures of me with this cut yet; I'll try to remember to get some soon -- before my hair starts to fall out, especially. I'll post them here and on Facebook once I have them.
This week at work has been good; I've enjoyed being back in the groove and seeing my friends every day. I've also been back on the desk this week, which has been fun. I really love working on the reference desk and interacting with the students. I spent some time this afternoon walking around to my departments and handing out cards and flyers in the hopes of stirring up some business (i.e., getting faculty to invite me to their classes so that I can teach their students how to use the library's resources when they need to do research; this is sort of the main point of my job).
My supervisor, Suzanne, worried and worked very hard to make sure that every single "i" was dotted and "t" crossed for my application for the sick leave pool that had to go to HR. It's very complicated, but what it mainly boils down to is that I've been approved by HR to use that time, so I don't have to worry about going on leave without pay, which would be highly problematic. And I'm down to right around 60 hours of time off left because of all the time I had to take after my surgery. I truly do thank my lucky stars that I work with such a supportive group of people and that the UT System has this safety net for people like me who have to fight a life-threatening illness.
I had to get my teeth cleaned before starting chemo because I was 6 months overdue for it; I had been scheduled to go in February, but we moved then, and I never got around to it. I finally bit the bullet, so to speak, and made an appointment to go see my cousin, Van -- a dentist who practices in Fort Worth. I had warned him several times about how phobic I am concerning dental work, and he and his staff did a really fabulous job! They were extremely supportive and friendly, and Van gave me lots of nitrous to make sure that I stayed fairly loopy throughout. I did have some decay under an old silver (amalgam) filling, so he drilled that out and put in a lovely inlay that matches my tooth. I'm so happy that's over :).
The other thing I've been thinking about a lot this week is my mother and the path she traveled with this illness. I finally received her complete history from her oncologist last Saturday, so I've been reading through much of it (the stack of photocopies is about 3 inches thick). What strikes me as odd, interesting, and rather scary is that she was also stage IIIA, with many other similarities to me (but also some differences). I had forgotten some details of her illness: how, when, and where it metastasized, mainly. The big thing that I had remembered was that it was in her spine, but she also had a spot on her face at one point that had to be surgically removed. And she had to have radiation there as well, which had a chance of causing blindness. I also ran across some notes that were rather chilling; one that read something like "Patient's daughter called; pt is in excruciating pain, 10+." I don't remember my mother or my sister ever telling me that she was in that much pain; I guess that is something else that they protected me from. Anyway, I'm going to take the stack of papers to chemotherapy with me on Friday and ask Sue what information there might be useful to Dr. Krekow and let her make copies of those parts.
So I'm trying to be calm and not frightened about Friday, but it's rather difficult. I have an appointment with Dr. Heistein to get another fill done in my tissue expander at 10 that morning, then I have to show up at the chemo place (which is upstairs from Dr. Brian's office) at 11. As I understand it, they will draw blood and do the labwork first, which will take about an hour. Then they will start with the drugs to combat the nausea, then the chemo. I'm not sure how long it will take all together, and I have no idea how I will feel that evening or weekend. I guess I will find out. If I don't feel up to letting you all know how I'm doing, I'll ask Kyle to do so. Peace, Jody.
Hugs to you, Jody.
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