Just talked to Mom this morning. She's still in the hospital in Victoria, but no longer in 'reverse isolation'. And she's had three radiation treatments this week! That means she's only got 5 more to go... fingers crossed.
If her blood count is high enough, she'll get to go home for the weekend, then back to the Lodge next week. They are going to wait for a few weeks to resume chemotherapy, make sure her white blood cell count is really strong.
They've also given her a new 'thing' called Throat Freeze (or something like that). She swishes that in her mouth then swallows. It's giving her a lot of relief, and I think that's helping to bring back her positive attitude. As you can imagine, it was a little bit on weak side this week...
Uncle Lloyd (Mom's brother) has been in Victoria to see her, that has meant a huge amount to Mom. The meaning and value of family sure becomes apparent during a crisis.
I'll be seeing Mom next week, so will post again soon.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Just a Quick Update
Mom's doctor phoned me today, said (bad news) that she'll probably be in 'reverse isolation' for 10 days, either in Campbell River or Victoria. And although her white blood cell count is very low and she had a fever, (good news) there is no infection. They'll keep her on antibiotics until the white blood cell count improves.
Latest news, she will be transferred by ambulance tonight to the Royal Jubilee Hospital in Victoria. No news on whether or when she will be resuming the cancer treatments, I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it's soon!
Latest news, she will be transferred by ambulance tonight to the Royal Jubilee Hospital in Victoria. No news on whether or when she will be resuming the cancer treatments, I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it's soon!
Monday, April 21, 2008
A Little Setback
While Mom has been sailing through her treatments, relatively speaking, a bit of 'real' life...
On Sunday, Mom had a bit of a fever. Because of the depleted white blood cells, this is important. Her body just doesn't have the strength to fight off any infections. So, she and Joe made the trek to Campbell River Hospital to get checked out. Her white blood cell count was low enough that they decided to keep her there.
After each chemotherapy treatment, your white cell count will begin to fall. It will be at its lowest at the mid-point between treatments. For example, if you have treatment every 3 weeks, then your lowest counts will be at about 10 days after your chemotherapy injections. This is called the 'nadir' (pronounced na-deer). When your white cell count is at its lowest, you will probably feel very tired. Some people also say they feel depressed at this time. After the nadir, the level of white blood cells will gradually improve until it is almost back to normal. Then, it will be time for your next chemotherapy treatment and they will go down again. It is no wonder that many people feel as if they are on a rollercoaster, emotionally as well as physically, when having chemotherapy.
I called the hospital, and they are trying to get her admitted to the Royal Jubilee Hospital in Victoria so she can continue her radiation treatments - I know how important this is to Mom. She wants to keep her cancer-fighting plan, so any change is heartbreaking!
So, for now she's in Campbell River, in a 'reverse isolation' room. That means that anyone who goes into the room must wear a mask and a gown to prevent the risk of any bad germs getting to Mom. She can't take calls, so it really is 'isolated'.
Her esophagus is starting to really bother her (it's so close to where she's being treated with the radiation), so eating is a bit of a chore. There was talk of maybe taking a break from the radiation if it got too bad, so maybe we should look at that as a silver lining...?
I'll keep you all posted as I hear more.
On Sunday, Mom had a bit of a fever. Because of the depleted white blood cells, this is important. Her body just doesn't have the strength to fight off any infections. So, she and Joe made the trek to Campbell River Hospital to get checked out. Her white blood cell count was low enough that they decided to keep her there.
After each chemotherapy treatment, your white cell count will begin to fall. It will be at its lowest at the mid-point between treatments. For example, if you have treatment every 3 weeks, then your lowest counts will be at about 10 days after your chemotherapy injections. This is called the 'nadir' (pronounced na-deer). When your white cell count is at its lowest, you will probably feel very tired. Some people also say they feel depressed at this time. After the nadir, the level of white blood cells will gradually improve until it is almost back to normal. Then, it will be time for your next chemotherapy treatment and they will go down again. It is no wonder that many people feel as if they are on a rollercoaster, emotionally as well as physically, when having chemotherapy.
I called the hospital, and they are trying to get her admitted to the Royal Jubilee Hospital in Victoria so she can continue her radiation treatments - I know how important this is to Mom. She wants to keep her cancer-fighting plan, so any change is heartbreaking!
So, for now she's in Campbell River, in a 'reverse isolation' room. That means that anyone who goes into the room must wear a mask and a gown to prevent the risk of any bad germs getting to Mom. She can't take calls, so it really is 'isolated'.
Her esophagus is starting to really bother her (it's so close to where she's being treated with the radiation), so eating is a bit of a chore. There was talk of maybe taking a break from the radiation if it got too bad, so maybe we should look at that as a silver lining...?
I'll keep you all posted as I hear more.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Week 4 - The Halfway Point
Well, as some parts of this fight get easier, some get harder.
This week, the plan was for Mom to have radiation treatment everyday, and chemotherapy Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. But first, we have to see the oncologist on Monday, who will approve or deny this plan based on her bloodwork. If her blood count is too low, it would just be too hard on her.
Harder... When we saw the oncologist, she still hadn't received the blood test results, which had been done 2 hours earlier. She said that's not a good sign; when the blood count is low they have to do a manual count, which is probably why it's delayed. Probably better to delay chemotherapy a week...
It doesn't seem like a big deal, but at the time, it's huge. We know when her last treatment is (chemotherapy in Campbell River Thursday, May 22nd), and how long she'll be staying at the Lodge (until Thursday, May 2nd). The thing that makes all of this bearable is that we know what to expect now, and when to expect it!
It turned out okay, we got to continue on the way we expected (her blood count was actually very strong), and we finished another session of chemotherapy. Again, no bad side effects, just a little sleeplessness and lack of appetite.
Harder, but then easier... This was the week that Mom's hair started to fall out. She was dog-sitting on the weekend for Joe's nephew, Guy, and his wife, Creole. (They have been an incredible source of support for Mom and for me - I get weepy just thinking about how much easier it's been with them there!) Anyway, Mom comes out of the shower... "Joe, that dog has been on my towel! Her hair is all over it!" Joe takes a look, "Well, Fern, that doesn't look like her hair... I think that's your hair."
So, we went to the salon at the Cancer Clinic to get Mom's wig. And she decided it's time to get rid of her hair. The lady obliged, and even though she was very nice, it was pretty emotional. Mom couldn't look at herself for a full 24 hours. But, when she finally did, she laughed. And she gets lots of compliments on her wig. The morning after she had shaved her head, she came downstairs for a visit... I couldn't pinpoint what was wrong, but she just didn't look right. Somehow, she had put her wig on so cockeyed, it was covering one ear and halfway up her head on the other side! She's gotten much better at it, thank goodness!!
Easier... The only other story, really, would be her radiation treatments. Last time I was there, for her first treatments, she would get changed and come to the waiting room all wrapped up in her gown and robe tied snugly around her. This time... not so much. Out of the change room she struts, no robe, the gown tied only at the neck and floating gently behind her. No fear!! (I found myself still holding my breath when that red light was on.)
I do think the treatments are getting to her a bit. She's having a bit of trouble swallowing, and her appetite is waning. But she hasn't lost any more weight, and her spirits are good. She knows there is someone up there looking out for her (her mom, she thinks) that is making this fight as easy as it's been for her so far. Thank you, Gramma!
This week, the plan was for Mom to have radiation treatment everyday, and chemotherapy Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. But first, we have to see the oncologist on Monday, who will approve or deny this plan based on her bloodwork. If her blood count is too low, it would just be too hard on her.
Harder... When we saw the oncologist, she still hadn't received the blood test results, which had been done 2 hours earlier. She said that's not a good sign; when the blood count is low they have to do a manual count, which is probably why it's delayed. Probably better to delay chemotherapy a week...
It doesn't seem like a big deal, but at the time, it's huge. We know when her last treatment is (chemotherapy in Campbell River Thursday, May 22nd), and how long she'll be staying at the Lodge (until Thursday, May 2nd). The thing that makes all of this bearable is that we know what to expect now, and when to expect it!
It turned out okay, we got to continue on the way we expected (her blood count was actually very strong), and we finished another session of chemotherapy. Again, no bad side effects, just a little sleeplessness and lack of appetite.
Harder, but then easier... This was the week that Mom's hair started to fall out. She was dog-sitting on the weekend for Joe's nephew, Guy, and his wife, Creole. (They have been an incredible source of support for Mom and for me - I get weepy just thinking about how much easier it's been with them there!) Anyway, Mom comes out of the shower... "Joe, that dog has been on my towel! Her hair is all over it!" Joe takes a look, "Well, Fern, that doesn't look like her hair... I think that's your hair."
So, we went to the salon at the Cancer Clinic to get Mom's wig. And she decided it's time to get rid of her hair. The lady obliged, and even though she was very nice, it was pretty emotional. Mom couldn't look at herself for a full 24 hours. But, when she finally did, she laughed. And she gets lots of compliments on her wig. The morning after she had shaved her head, she came downstairs for a visit... I couldn't pinpoint what was wrong, but she just didn't look right. Somehow, she had put her wig on so cockeyed, it was covering one ear and halfway up her head on the other side! She's gotten much better at it, thank goodness!!
Easier... The only other story, really, would be her radiation treatments. Last time I was there, for her first treatments, she would get changed and come to the waiting room all wrapped up in her gown and robe tied snugly around her. This time... not so much. Out of the change room she struts, no robe, the gown tied only at the neck and floating gently behind her. No fear!! (I found myself still holding my breath when that red light was on.)
I do think the treatments are getting to her a bit. She's having a bit of trouble swallowing, and her appetite is waning. But she hasn't lost any more weight, and her spirits are good. She knows there is someone up there looking out for her (her mom, she thinks) that is making this fight as easy as it's been for her so far. Thank you, Gramma!
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