Leg Three of the Relay

Today I'm commemorating 2 weeks since I started my final FOLFURI + Avastin treatment. For those that are too lazy to go back to the beginning of the year, that's the abreviation for the drug combination I've been on this time, plus a little extra on the side. Another 12 rounds of chemo is in the books and on my resume.

This morning I start what is referred to as "maintenence chemo," and that's simply me maintaining my tumors at their current size. How long does one maintain? As my Physian's Assistant told me 2 weeks ago, you do it until it stops working. "Awesome!" I said sarcastically to my bald self.

That right there is enough to bring a girl down.

So technically, I could be doing this for the rest of my life?

I'm trying not to think about that part.

I will also get the results of my most recent CT scan, which occurred on Monday. Once again, I'm trying not to assuming anything. Because what have we all learned in the (almost) last 2 years kids? Never assume anything when it comes to cancer.

I could assume that the tiny little tumors are continuing to get even tinier. I could assume that the rest of my bits and parts will continue to be spotless and cancer-free. I could assume that it will all be positive, but I can't and I won't. Prepare for the worst and hope for the best, I say. In the mean time, I'll take some of my beloved anxiety pills to get through that appointment.

My drugs of choice this time will be the same I have been on for the last 5 months, minus my little bathroom-inducing friend, Mr. Irinotecan (The I in FOLFURI). That friend happened to be a nasty little bugger, so we're all happy that he didn't get invited to the birthday party.

I've been assured by my infusion nurse that I won't have any major side effects, but I'll believe it when I see it feel it. There will be some minor ones, but nothing that will send me into my dark room to pop nausea pills. I should be able to resume life as usual, aside from having my port accessed and the little European man purse strapped over my shoulder with my pump for the next 2 days; a treat since I am normally hiding in my room with that set up.

Thanks to the arrival of Fall, I will be able to hide ports and tubes with some perfectly placed scarves and accessories. Explaining to Merrick's Kindergarten pals why a tube is coming out of my chest is not on my list of things to do this week. A trip to Target, however, is.

1 comment:

Carrie S. said...

On those bad days, just remember that you have more courage in your PINKY than most people have in their whole BODY!

I hope many kidless Target trips are in your future! That's definitely my "therapy," too. :-)