Return from the Abyss

I'm creeping out of the fog of exhaustion and pain medication to briefly say hello to the world again. After my last chemoradiation treatment on Monday the 14th, my oncologist admitted me to Overlake Hospital for symptom management. After 25 regular radiation treatments and 3 boosters as well as 6 weeks of constant chemotherapy, my body was wrecked and I was in a lot of pain. I had the equivalent of third degree burns in the treatment area due to the intense radiation treatments, all of which made going to the bathroom extremely painful and exhausting. The first two weeks of radiation treatment caused no visible side effects other than fatigue, but after the third week I started to succumb to the peak of the side effects. By this time, it became painful to walk, and I shuffled around slowly with my arms held close to my body like a T-Rex. The 5FU chemotherapy severely dehydrated me, and the skin on my hands began to peel away in strips and flakes. My fingers were darkly pigmented and were scattered with brown freckles. My tongue had brown spots and I also suffered from stomatitis, sores on my lips and in my mouth, which made it difficult to drink and eat. I was sensitive to light and had hot flashes several times daily followed by chills despite the 70+ degree weather outside.

At the hospital, I was given an IV for saline and hydration. I also received two bags worth of blood in transfusion because my own blood had become low in the component that carries oxygen throughout the body. I was grateful to be in a safe environment to recuperate since help and pain relief were just a click away. I spent most of the time sleeping, healing, and getting the kind of pain management that only a round the clock hospital staff can provide. It gave me relief from the constant pill swallowing that I was doing at home, which did not succesfully hold the pain at bay. With three meals a day being presented to me, I started to eat again very cautiously. At home, I had developed a psychological block to eating and would have no appetite for days in a row. I know it was weakening me not to eat, but the sores in my mouth and the fear of having to make a painful BM later prevented me from making the rational decision to eat. My days passed quickly and I lost track of time and dates. My family came to visit often and so did a few friends. There were moments where I felt my strength returning and others where I felt like I was backsliding into the abyss. Good memory, concentration, focus and lucidity were not my constant companions during this time, but my body was at least on the mend now that the relentless attack of radiation beams and chemo drugs had stopped.

I asked my oncologist if my admittance to the hospital was similar to the experience of other cancer patients. In some way, I felt disappointed and scared to have made it all the way through treatment only to end up in the hospital. She said that it happens quite often since treatment is really intense and most patients either opt not to finish at all or they want to stop and start again in order to rest in between. I didn't realize that I had that choice as a patient, but I am glad that I didn't know so that I could just forge ahead and be done with it. The doctor said she was actually surprised that I lasted that long before being admitted. She said it will be about 10 to 14 days before I start to feel remotely normal again, but it may be a month before I'm fully restored after the residual side effects start to fade away. I have 6 to 8 weeks to rest and shore up before my operation in September.

After 5 days, I was discharged from the hospital with an armload of prescription pills to help ease my transition home. I had a lot of anxiety about leaving the safe haven of the hospital. I am back at home resting on the couch which has become my permanent station during recuperation. I have a tray table with my water bottle, medications, lotion for my hands, tissues, my book, all within easy reach. I can reach up and open the window to let in cool air during a hot flash or close it if the chills overtake me. Visitors can easily stop in and sit with me for a while and I can watch my kids play when they are home for the weekend. It is much cheerier than being stuck in my bedroom the whole time. The kids are back up at my dad and stepmom's house getting love and attention and lots of playtime with my half-sister Diane. Winston is at work all day. Right now, I am reading a book called "Colon Cancer: Beating the Odds". My cousin Thuy in Hawaii sent it to me and I've been reading it during the brief moments I'm awake. It's an actual memoir written by an OB nurse who was diagnosed with colon cancer and her fight to get through it. Since I don't know anyone right now who has colon cancer who I can talk to, this book has been my comfort and my companion since I can relate to everything she's going through and she is giving the reader so much insight into the experience.

Anyway, I am surprised that I was able to write this much but I need to go and rest now. I will read a few more chapters of my book and then surrender myself to sleep. Thank you to all of you who called, visited, sent cards, left voicemails. All of it cheers me up. And although I may not always be able to respond, I want you to know that your friendship is appreciated and is contributing to my healing. Signing off for now, with love, Di.