Making a scene

So yesterday, I had a melt down of sorts and am now paying for it. It was that feeling really bad after the first week of chemo week stuff and I was just trying to be normal.

I was working (probably too much), not eating enough (how many carne asada tacos can one person eat) and being my usual all around stressed out self. You know, basically trying to be the rock, Superwoman, or whatever you want to call it for my family. I had made it through Wednesday and was doing so-so but was having what I perceived as a weird side effects from the chemo. I thought I was having strong anxiety attacks about life in general. You know anxiety attacks, where you feel like someone is reaching their hand inside your chest cavity and grabbing your beating heart….and then squishing the life out of you. Sounds gross, but that was what I had been feeling lately and unfortunately it was getting worse.

On Thursday, I had a big – very long meeting at work. I know now, that until this cancer thing is over…..I will never, never, never sit in meeting, more than say…..an hour without then resting for hour in between. Don’t laugh; business meetings can be very, very strenuous. People banter back and forth, new ideas are exchanged, paths are defined, you have to stay awake and be at the top of your game. Everyone knows the work is hard and in meetings… …..the hard, unyielding, solid chairs are even more so brutal, especially when you have cancer in your chest bones. Sounds overly dramatic, but by two in the afternoon, it had been about six hours in that chair. I was having what I perceived was an anxiety attack.

I’m really thankful that there are doctors, nurses and neighbors. I left my meeting and drove myself home. The anxiety was huge; I was hot, sweaty and fidgety. I was breathing deeply and couldn’t stop talking – even if I was only talking to myself. I called my oncologist’s nurse, Sharon and my on island doctor, Maureen Koval. Sharon asked if I could go see my on island doctor and have my heart and blood pressure checked immediately and I asked Dr. Koval asked if I could come in to her office immediately……she said yes and don’t drive yourself. I walked over to my neighbor’s house and literally like “The Graduate” pounding on the window of the church yelling for Elaine, asked my neighbor Mark if he would drive me to the doctor’s office. Poor Mark. There I was, a bald headed, raving lunatic begging for a ride to the doctor’s office. I have no idea what he was thinking……but he was so wonderful. The nurse, the doctor, the neighbor were all wonderful…..just because they had said yes. I’m sure I would have driven my car into a ditch if I had driven myself. And yes, I know that I could have called 911…….but I live in the middle of no-where….and it would have just taken longer.

Dr. Koval quickly assessed the situation. She said, breathe deeply, listening to my heart with her stethoscope. This isn’t a heart attack, Joan. This isn’t an anxiety attack, as her assistant attached an EKG probe to my skin. This is PAIN; this is a lot of pain as I finally see it what it is for the first time. She touches the tumor on my sternum and I scream out loud. Yes, yes…..that hurts. I am going to give you a shot, Joan. You need some help. You can’t do this alone, you need something. I’m sorry, I’m sorry….I say over and over. Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault, she says as she holds my hand. I’m going to have to give you a shot in your behind. In my but, oh god no, I say to the nurse and as I fly off the table to the other side of the room. I drop my drawers and the long needle goes painfully in. And this isn’t even the scene……

My doctors talk to each other in hushed tones. They up my pain meds even more. It’s decided that if the pain hasn’t been abated by tomorrow I’m to go to Seattle for evaluation. I make it through the night and try once again to go to work. But I can’t make it even an hour. I know I have to go in to face my doctor, something has changed and I’m going to have to deal with it. I’m crazed with pain. At work, people are there trying to help me, but I can barely walk let alone let anyone help me. They offer their hands and I can't even let them touch me. I am frantic with pain. I just know that I have ten minutes to make a ferry and I need to get my car out of my office’s crowded parking lot. I am the screaming lunatic, barking at those who were just trying to help. They get someone to drive me. They are trying to move cars to let me out. I just rave on. Later, I feel bad. I feel embarrassed…..all they were doing was trying to help and all I could do was yell in their faces. How can I ever face them?

The news is the tumors on my sternum are not getting smaller. The pain is getting bigger because the tumors are getting bigger. Instead of using radiation at the end of this nightmare to make sure I never get cancer again, I’m going to have to use radiation now to kill this foe. Radiation is effective; it will kill the cancer in the bones. I hope. I start radiation on Monday.

Later, I'm offered the choice of weekend hospital stay with intravenous pain medication or staying home in bed and letting people help. I go home, lay in bed and a friend holds my hand as the sun streams through the window while I wait for the medication to work and Monday to come.