Cancer Diary – Part 11

My Blood Tells the Whole Story

I’m so glad that I had a chemo port surgically implanted in my right shoulder. It’s much simpler for everything: blood draws, transfusions, and chemo infusions. Most of the time I forget it’s even there: painless, just a little bump under my skin. Very convenient.

This week, my blood work showed great improvement in my numbers: white blood count is normal for the first time in a year; but still low red count and anemia. Yet I feel so much better after only one chemo infusion last week. No more fatigue in my legs and just a generally improved sense of wellness. Except for the pain in my left arm . . .  

I asked my doctor on Monday to level with me: did they start with a low dose of chemo and will gradually increase it with five more infusions? She said no, they plan on giving me the same dosage every time. So I guess we’ll see. It’s out of my hands anyway. Just lean into it and be grateful that there are no side effects so far. Same story with the clinical trial, a randomized blind study. Maybe I’m getting a placebo. Time will tell.

Fred Hutch Cancer Alliance has offered me up to $2100 for participating in this clinical trial. I’m pleased about that. And if the trips down to the Hutch are more than twice a week, they offer cheap housing on their campus to the cancer patients. I’m getting a lot of support. Not to mention all the rides my friends are offering to get me to the Hutch for treatments. I am surrounded by love and support. No more room in the refrigerator for all the food people are bringing. It’s hard to cook with my arm in a sling!

I feel blessed as I walk through this journey. I’ve attempted to be proactive with all the needs that go along with chemotherapy: anti-nausea pills, which I haven’t needed at all. And since my doctor assured me that I would lose my hair, I have a box full of scarves and bandanas which I can’t put on with one hand! I think God is playing a joke on me by making this so difficult. But so far, no need for head covering: I still have my hair. Still, it’s early in treatment . . . 

During my first infusion, I realized I forgot to put on my chemo cap (a desperate attempt to keep my hair). By then, though, it wasn’t even cold, so I said to myself, the hell with it. I don’t even care anymore. Women are vain creatures, yes we are, and I certainly am. But every day that passes, my vanity seems to be flying out the window. It’s all so superficial anyway. My spiritual health is what matters. 

So this is where I am now, growing inwardly, and happy to see on MSNBC that bald ladies seem to be in fashion. A new trend! 

I grew up in Massachusetts. For seventeen years I was an ESL teacher in Virginia. Before that, I lived overseas in the Foreign Service. Just as I provided “springboards” for my students in writing class, my travels provide the backdrop for my two memoirs: my award-winning debut memoir, A Mother’s Story: Angie Doesn’t Live Here Anymore; and its sequel,  Stepping Stones: A Memoir of Addiction, Loss, and Transformation, winner of the 2020 USA Best Book Award.