Chemo #1 is Complete

So this is post-first chemo and post-Christmas and pre-New Years.  Mom has had her hair cut short and bought a wig in an effort to minimize the scary reality of when her hair falls  out in clumps.  That should happen soon, the hair falling out part, but I think she's adapting well to the new hair on her head.  It's lighter and a little longer, but honestly reminds me of how her hair used to be in the late 80s.  I know this because we have video footage from that time.

The chemo itself is a pretty straight-forward process.  She spent the entire day in a chair as the drugs were administered through her IV -- she has a port for that -- and once it was done, we went home. She didn't feel much the first couple of days, but then on day 3, she had aches in her legs.  That's the chemo getting to her bone marrow, and means that it's working.  But she did not feel much nausea, and if she did, she took the pills that were prescribed.  3 different kinds.  People have been very supportive, and aren't hovering for the most part.  We're just trying to get on like we normally do.

Next chemo is mid-January.  They may or may not do a test before that to judge how effective the first treatment was, and it will be interesting to see what the numbers are.  Luckily the CA-125 test is a pretty good judge of what's happening in that part of her body, but I don't know what they do to track the rest of her.  Like how do we know cancer won't just pop up somewhere else without even knowing?

I'm doing okay.  People ask and I just say I'm okay.  But every now and then I do think like 'what if' and I hate it.  I don't want to be thinking any bad thoughts, they don't help anyone.  But like I did for her surgery, I want to be prepared if it's not good, because I can't be taken by surprise.  I think it's scarier that way, then you really don't know what to ask/do, you'll just freak out a lot.

I've realized that most of what I do at work is pretty meaningless now.  I mean, I suppose it was always kind of meaningless, but since my mom's gotten cancer, I've treated it more and more like it's meaningless.  I'm not going to fight people, because are we really going to sit around a table and debate little stupid things?  Really?  I just want to get shit done and go home.  And so my heart really isn't in any of it, which makes it very difficult to write effectively and or even read stuff to find problems.  There will always be problems, and my days of trying to fix them are numbered.  I'm almost certain.

Pre-Chemo Shenanigans

We met Dr. K on Monday and chemo will begin next Monday morning.  Dr. K is all kinds of awesomeness and made mom feel pretty good that she's got a basic form of ovarian cancer that lots of women have, and therefore, there should be no surprises.  Of course, every single person in this world is different in how they respond to chemo, so let's just leave it at that.

Thursday morning was a very quick wig appointment.  She started off by saying that she wanted a wig that looked just like her hair (a la Samantha in SATC, remember that one?).  And in the end, she picked hair that was lighter, with some fun highlights, and a big longer.  They can style it once they order it.  But I wonder how much she'll actually wear it.  I know she'll be self-conscious, thinking everyone will know it's not her real hair.  We'll have to stock up on hats as well.

And then finally, she had her port put in.  I don't know why the doctor called it a quick procedure when it took 2 hours and required mom to be put under and then not shower for two days.  That's so weird.  To me, quick is like 20 minutes, and no scar.  But I guess overall, this will make the chemo a much smoother process.  We can only hope.

Mom wants to have both christmas eve and day at the house.  She wants to cook some stuff, not everything.  Mind you, this will be just 5 days after her first chemo.  I just don't want her to get overwhelmed or feel miserable while she preparing stuff.  Again, we'll take it slow.  I can always make the shrimp.

Slowly starting to settle in

I actually thought I was doing pretty well in trying not to bottle all of this up, but I guess even then, nothing can stop that one moment where you just feel sad and you need to cry.  I don't know what I am, I don't think I'm an optimist, not a pessimist, maybe a realist, but I constantly think about this fantasy world where everything is okay.  Mum has started up a journal to keep people updated, and maybe that's what I need to do as well.  Not for other people, but for me.  Because I think it's always been easier for me to vocalize my thoughts through words.  It got me through college and grad school, didn't it?  And I do miss looking back on the moments I decided to capture and laughing because of how stupid I was.  

Every little bit of me was confident that this was all just a blip in the road, that it wouldn't make any sense that there was cancer so therefore there should be no cancer.  And so maybe I was being cautiously optimistic by not looking too far into the future (even though we did, secretly, want to look into the future so that we could start planning) because I didn't want to jinx it.  I doubt cancer hides around the corner until you forget about it only to jump out and scare the shit out of you at the most opportune time.  But for two whole weeks, we were led to believe that there was a strong chance that it wasn't cancer.  And then I felt bad for thinking yes, hopefully it's a 90% chance that it's not, but I kept hanging on the 10% to the point that it started to consume me.  And then when the surgery went for so long, I kept thinking oh god, maybe it's just taking longer, sometimes that happens.  

Anyway, enough about that.  The reason I guess I'm feeling the weight of all of this now is because we got a stage.  And it wasn't stage 2, it was stage 3c.  Not even just 3 but 3c.  And maybe it doesn't matter if it's a or b or c but if it didn't, why would they even use it?  It's not 4.  Well, jeez, she wasn't even showing symptoms, let's hope it isn't a 4.  Christ.  I know she's being strong for me, and I guess I'm being strong for her, but I think on the inside, she's scared shitless, and so maybe I am too because I don't know what's going to happen next.  Like she wants to celebrate her birthday with a party and she wants balloons.  And my sister said oh whatever, she won't realize there aren't balloons when she gets there.  But she wouldn't mention them if she didn't want them, and what if ... what if, you know?  She's got cancer, am I really going to deny her balloons when she asks for them?  Really?  

So here begins my journal about my mom's adventure on the road to recovering from ovarian cancer.  Stage IIIc.