Small Steps

Dear Friends,

It has been a few days since my last entry. I had a good week and felt like my body slowly is coming back. I had several appointments this week, one on Tuesday with Ruth my G.P., who took time to talk with me, and, after an exam, told me that I had a "tremendous response" to the chemotherapy (she gave me my last exam at the beginning of August, so she was impressed with the overall change). She also told me that the joint and muscle pain from the Taxol will likely continue for months, not weeks. At least it's good to know what to expect.
Then Wednesday at noon, Catherine and I went to a lymphedema clinic at PMH. As my cousin Ellen said, "Oh great, more information about terrifying shit that *might* happen to you." So true. Three out of ten people who have this surgery develop lymphedema, so while it's more likely you don't get it, they want you to have information in case it happens. I didn't know what it was: apparently, once they remove some of the lymph nodes under the arm, fluids can have a hard time getting back up the arm so it swells up. This can happen right after surgery, or can happen at any point after that. One woman at the clinic finished her treatment a year ago and just last week her arm swelled up. Sometimes as you get older and the lymphatic system becomes more compromised, it happens then. Humph. So I will do all my exercises to keep fluids flowing.
Speaking of exercise, they also informed us that 3-5 hours of cardio per week reduces the risk of breast cancer recurrence by 50%. If I ever needed a reason to be hitting the gym more often, I have it now.
I was kind of shaken after that clinic: suggestions for taking short showers rather than baths (to avoid heat and swelling), precautions for airplane trips (changes in pressure), avoid shoveling and heavy lifting, etc. I'm really hoping this isn't part of my future, and I'll do everything I can to avoid it. Starting with a physiotherapist (I have some good names and will start shopping next week).
After the clinic, we took a cab up to Sunnybrook where my cousin Ellen and her husband Gary were for a follow-up appointment. We had a short and really nice visit with them. Ellen's wig is great and she looks really good.
Finally, we caught a cab to see my opthamologist. She wanted to see me after chemo, because the taxol can be hard on the eyes. Sure enough, my eyes are totally dried out to the point that I have some neuropathy (although taxol makes you tear up so you don't know how dry the eye actually is). I'm on special drops every four hours until April.
I had an amazing experience as we left that appointment: my eyes were dilated, and it was dark (5:30), and we caught a cab down Yonge Street to pick up the Lake Shore home. With dilated eyes, Yonge Street looked like a fantasyland. I've never been on acid, but this must be the closest experience: all of the Christmas lights, the trees, oh it was so beautiful. I sat in the backseat of the cab with Catherine, relieved to have had my appointments, enjoying the lights, finished with chemo. Fantastic.
After a big day, I rested Thursday, then yesterday I went to see a matinee with Barb (before all the kiddies got out of school). Judy Davidson and Catherine were shopping yesterday and the three of us had a quiet night at home yesterday. A great end to the week.
And tonight--tonight!-I am taking Catherine, Julie and Susan out for dinner to thank them for taking such good care of me. I wish you all could come with us. We are going to a little Italian restaurant up at Bloor and Royal York I've never been to (but Catherine and Julie really like it), and I'll have half a glass of wine. I had a few sips of red wine last night. It tasted wonderful but didn't settle well with my stomach. Tonight I'll just have a symbolic sip.
I will toast all of you.
Love,
Kip