I've given up sugar for the next year. The minute I found out I had cancer I gave up sugar and artificial sweeteners. That was in October. I survived Halloween without a single Twix. I allowed myself some pie for Thanksgiving, some chocolate covered nuts for Christmas and New Years and a week of light daily indulgence when we went to Disneyland last week.
Now I'm ready to go gangbusters. I decided at Disneyland that I wouldn't have any sugar for 1 year - until my next Disneyland trip - with no breaks for the holidays. That means no candy, ice cream, chocolate, syrup, jam or soda pop. And somewhere in there I also hope to figure out how to balance other sugar sources like fruits and breads to their proper amounts. Aspartame also has a pretty bad rap in cancer nutrition so my Crystal Light and diet sodas and gum are out too. I have recently learned about Stevia, which is in my chocolate flavored Isagenix protein shake every morning. Sometimes I make one with peanut butter and extra ice and eat it at night like ice cream.
I've had a few friends do this in the past and I have been way impressed at the same time that I thought that they were nuts and missing out on the good stuff in life. But now I feel like it might help save my life, so I'm motivated!
So far so good. The kids bring home cookies and candy and I don't touch them. I even helped make chocolate chip cookies for dessert a few weeks back and didn't snitch a single smidgen. Last year, when A brought home candy from school, I drooled over it and begged for the Kit Kats and Twixes. This year I get nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Nothing for Easter, my birthday, Halloween, Thanksgiving or Christmas. Every kids dream, right? No candy taxes to Mom for the next year.
Anyone who's done this before - any tips on what to avoid and how to endure?
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Good News
We got the results of the PET scan today. All spots are showing reduced activity and 2 of the 5 bone spots that were initially most significant are now showing no activity and even some bone growth. The plan now is to continue with chemo for another 3 months (I'm getting an infusion as I type) and then to do another scan. If all goes well we'll then discuss surgery and hormone inhibitors. This is slightly better news than I was expecting and way better than I was fearing. Now for the next 3 months I'm going to continue to do everything I can to help my body heal on it's own. And then try to hold that state for as long as possible. Every extra day is a bonus and a blessing. Hopefully I'll remember that and feel that way even if I keep getting "good news" for years to come.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Quick Update
I finished my first 3 months of chemotherapy treatments last week. And not too much worse for the wear so far. Aside from extra fatigue, I pretty much continue to evade all other common chemo side-effects and I continue to count my many many blessings!
I had a PET scan (full body cancer scan) this week to determine how well the chemo has done its job so far. I will find out the results of that scan in 2 more weeks. Here's how these results could pan out:
A) Complete remission. (very unlikely) No more chemo. Whoo Hoo! On to surgery.
B) Measurable reduction. (most likely) I'm guessng 20-30% based on how much the tumors in the breast have reduced. In this case we carry on with chemo for 3 more months and then measure again.
C) No shrinkage, but no new growth. (also likely) This would be disappointing, but acceptable. We'd then have to decide if we do 3 more months of the same chemo or if we switch tracks to another chemo or to hormone therapy.
D) Growth. (please, no) But again, there are still other therapies to try so it's not the end of the world.
Now to go enjoy my 2 weeks of not knowing in sweet ignorant bliss.
I had a PET scan (full body cancer scan) this week to determine how well the chemo has done its job so far. I will find out the results of that scan in 2 more weeks. Here's how these results could pan out:
A) Complete remission. (very unlikely) No more chemo. Whoo Hoo! On to surgery.
B) Measurable reduction. (most likely) I'm guessng 20-30% based on how much the tumors in the breast have reduced. In this case we carry on with chemo for 3 more months and then measure again.
C) No shrinkage, but no new growth. (also likely) This would be disappointing, but acceptable. We'd then have to decide if we do 3 more months of the same chemo or if we switch tracks to another chemo or to hormone therapy.
D) Growth. (please, no) But again, there are still other therapies to try so it's not the end of the world.
Now to go enjoy my 2 weeks of not knowing in sweet ignorant bliss.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
My 'Word' This Year
At my cancer support group last week we talked about setting goals for the year. We were asked to choose a single word and then to focus our goals around that word - and to keep that word in mind as we made decisions throughout the year.
My word this year is PREPARE.
For me this means...
My word this year is PREPARE.
For me this means...
- Prepare to meet God.
- *Start each day with a prayer dedicating my time that day to Him. Then practice and learn service in His way.
- *Attend the temple bi-weekly to bring me back into focus and closeness with Him.
- Prepare to leave my family.
- **Get my will/trust done.
- **Document account/password information.
- **Document my death wishes and funeral wishes.
- **Start a habit of writing regular love notes to my husband and kids.
- Help finish my mom's personal history (a family undertaking).
- Read at least one personal history of a previously deceased family member.
- Write my personal history. Include parental advice on key topics such as friends, schooling, dating, marriage, raising kids, making big decisions, seeking a personal testimony, etc. This goal will likely expand beyond this year.
- Prepare to kick cancer's butt and live 60 more years.
- *Learn and implement the cancer fighting 'Alkaline Diet'.
- Learn relaxation techniques.
- **Make it to bed on time and prioritize my sleep.
- **Exercise as often and as much as my body will allow (factoring in my own naps and a busy 18-month-old).
- **Make it through chemo, surgery and everything else they throw at me with an Attitude of Gratitude for the best cancer fighting knowledge we have so far and for the family and friends who carry me and my family through it both physically and emotionally.
* Key goal for the year.
** A habit already going, or a goal already almost done.
(Check out my 'Goal Progress' link at the top of the page)
I've heard some other great words this year: Love, Determination, Routine, Happiness. What word would you pick?
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Chemo By The Numbers
Today is chemo day.
# of chemo treatments I've received: 8
# of treatments still to go: 10 (maybe more)
# of chemo treatments my mom received over her 14 year battle: over 60 (in 7 different sessions)
I receive my treatments from the same facility my mom went to. Most of the nurses recognize me as Linda's daughter and have made comments about how wonderful and kind my mom was and how loving and supportive my dad was and how he'd sit and read to her during her infusions. It's nice going to a place where a good reputation has already been set for me and where I feel a connection with my mom as I literally share in her experience.
What is it like in the chemo room?
The room is about 3x long as it is wide, one wall is all windows that face a small courtyard, the opposite wall is a long desk where the nurses sit and work. All along the window wall is a column of green leather recliners. Facing these recliners, down the middle part of the room is a second column of recliners.
# of recliners in the room: 16
# of chemo nurses on duty: 6 (plus 3 others who help only with the starting blood work)
# of female nurses: 3
# of male nurses: 3 (The guys are my favorites. More happy, more kind. And they worked with my mom more often.)
# of patients being treated at once (including me): 13
# of male patients: 8
# of female patients: 5
# of patients in their 30's: 1 (me)
# of patients in their 40's: 6 (3 women, 3 men)
# of patients between 50-70: 3 (all men)
# of patients over 70: 3 (1 woman, 2 men)
# of patients with at least one person sitting by them: 11
# of patients with multiple attendants: 4
# of patients asleep: 7
# of patients without hair: 7 (3 women, 4 men)
# of patients dressed up for the occasion: 2 (do they have a presentation to give after this or something?)
# of odd looks I get as I try to observe and count the numbers: 19
# of nurses asking me if I'm lost: 1
What is it like to get chemo?
# of needle pokes I get: 1 (thanks to my port they get it right every time - as opposed to the multiple pokes I often get when getting ivs in my arm)
# of times it hurts: 1/4 (much less painful than an arm iv)
# of bags hanging from my iv rack: 4 or 5 (depending on the treatment that day)
# of hours hooked up to iv: 3
# of hours at the clinic (including doctor visits and preparation time): 4-5
# of hours patients who get the once-every-3-weeks treatment might be there: 6-8
# of times I shuffle with my iv pole to the bathroom: 2
# of blankets I request from the warmer: 2
# of hours I typically sleep: 1
# of meals consumed during treatment: 1 (typically Anthony brings in lunch from Subway)
# of books we've read together during treatment: 3/4 of The Beyonders
That's all I can think to report on. Did I miss anything? What are you curious about with this process?
# of chemo treatments I've received: 8
# of treatments still to go: 10 (maybe more)
# of chemo treatments my mom received over her 14 year battle: over 60 (in 7 different sessions)
I receive my treatments from the same facility my mom went to. Most of the nurses recognize me as Linda's daughter and have made comments about how wonderful and kind my mom was and how loving and supportive my dad was and how he'd sit and read to her during her infusions. It's nice going to a place where a good reputation has already been set for me and where I feel a connection with my mom as I literally share in her experience.
What is it like in the chemo room?
The room is about 3x long as it is wide, one wall is all windows that face a small courtyard, the opposite wall is a long desk where the nurses sit and work. All along the window wall is a column of green leather recliners. Facing these recliners, down the middle part of the room is a second column of recliners.
# of recliners in the room: 16
# of chemo nurses on duty: 6 (plus 3 others who help only with the starting blood work)
# of female nurses: 3
# of male nurses: 3 (The guys are my favorites. More happy, more kind. And they worked with my mom more often.)
# of patients being treated at once (including me): 13
# of male patients: 8
# of female patients: 5
# of patients in their 30's: 1 (me)
# of patients in their 40's: 6 (3 women, 3 men)
# of patients between 50-70: 3 (all men)
# of patients over 70: 3 (1 woman, 2 men)
# of patients with at least one person sitting by them: 11
# of patients with multiple attendants: 4
# of patients asleep: 7
# of patients without hair: 7 (3 women, 4 men)
# of patients dressed up for the occasion: 2 (do they have a presentation to give after this or something?)
# of odd looks I get as I try to observe and count the numbers: 19
# of nurses asking me if I'm lost: 1
What is it like to get chemo?
# of needle pokes I get: 1 (thanks to my port they get it right every time - as opposed to the multiple pokes I often get when getting ivs in my arm)
# of times it hurts: 1/4 (much less painful than an arm iv)
# of bags hanging from my iv rack: 4 or 5 (depending on the treatment that day)
# of hours hooked up to iv: 3
# of hours at the clinic (including doctor visits and preparation time): 4-5
# of hours patients who get the once-every-3-weeks treatment might be there: 6-8
# of times I shuffle with my iv pole to the bathroom: 2
# of blankets I request from the warmer: 2
# of hours I typically sleep: 1
# of meals consumed during treatment: 1 (typically Anthony brings in lunch from Subway)
# of books we've read together during treatment: 3/4 of The Beyonders
That's all I can think to report on. Did I miss anything? What are you curious about with this process?
A Better Day
For the sake of balance, I want to report on a good day too. Monday was a good day. I got to sleep in. My girls played happily in the playroom with a friend for an hour which gave me time to exercise. I implemented a new "healthy eating" system for teaching my kids (and myself) about healthy, balanced food choices. I took a little nap while my kids watched a little TV and then we turned it off for the day. I helped A get his homework done. I made homemade pizza for dinner with whole wheat flour and turkey pepperoni. I turned on some Disneyland music and the kids and I danced around the kitchen and talked about our upcoming trip while the pizza cooked. We had a fun family outing to Walmart where we played with all the toys and didn't buy any. I laughed with my kids. I cuddled with my kids. My husband read to me as I fell peacefully asleep that night. Tuesday was similar. These may not be my ultimate "best" days of motherhood, but they are normal days. They are good, happy days.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
I'm Not SuperMom. Go Figure.
Friday turned out a bit bumpy. The morning was ok, but when my afternoon nap was interrupted after only 10 minutes I spent the rest of the day trapped in exhaustion. So for the next 5 hours I layed on the couch half-asleep while my children "took care of themselves."
My 2 oldest watched a marathon of My Little Pony (my least favorite Netflix show) while my toddler wandered around the kitchen pulling out every pan and tupperware and dancing on the table until I finally gave up plucking her down and pushing away the chairs (which took all of two attempts). Around 5pm my bleary-eyed children, noticing their rumbling bellies, bounced on my lifeless body complaining about hunger. This elicited some response from me like, "You guys are mature enough to cook your own dinner now. Don't burn anything... like the whole the house." Eager to prove their independence they disappeared into the pantry, returning to the couch moments later with cupfuls of dry Marshmallow Mateys and a large helping of brownies. I congratulated them on "eating their colors" and reminded them to feed the baby too. I'm not sure if the baby ate any of the brownie or just used it as a crayon to decorate her face, clothes, hair, legs, floor, chairs and walls. Yeah, not really my best day of motherhood (but not my worst either). And it's not like I was preoccupied. Nor did I lack ideas of better things to do with my adorable children. I just didn't have the energy to care. Thank you chemo.
Ok, so I've been anticipating this from the first mention of chemo. I watched my mom go through it multiple times and she and I often compared being on chemo to going through pregnancy. It lasts about as long, wipes you out and makes you nauseated (and often a handful of other similar challenges). If I wasn't on chemo there's an ok chance I might have opted for pregnancy #4, so I suppose I could be in this exhausted state one way or another. It's frustrating though.
By the time S was born I was feeling pretty lousy about my motherhood. We watched 8-10 hours of TV a day, ate 3 square meals of cereal and were lucky to bathe the kids once a week. During the past year I've managed to wean back our screen time (computer included) to under 2 hours a day, implemented a program to regulate meal/snack times and food choices, and had introduced daily chores (my children learned how to put away their own clean laundry!). I was on the UP and I was feeling a wee bit super-momish.
But exhaustion has returned. Maybe not everyday, but more often lately. I tease Anthony that his blog post about Service jinxed us. I've been tired ever since that post. It just seems to be the way of things. 2 steps forward, 2 steps back.
But my sister reminded me Friday night that we weren't raised by a SuperMom either. She recalls being a TV addict as a kid and I remember eating a LOT of cereal, often after refusing to eat dinner. From my motherhood vantage point I look back and imagine that my sisters and I were picky and whiny and our mom was tired and frustrated so she just let it go. But in my childhood memory I recall being supremely happy. My mom managed to instill us with love and joy regardless of all the cereal and VHS movies. And somehow my sisters and I turned out to be happy functional adults who watch little TV and enjoy healthy meals. My sister also reminded me that my kids are in a home where they are very much loved, they are not abused or neglected, and they are being taught good values. Despite all the parenting magazines recommendations, despite the super programs of the other supermoms in the neighborhood, despite the lack of soccer and dance classes, life goes on (hallelujah!). With just as much chance to turn out as normal as the next guy. No super heroes here... and it's fine. It's fine. Now back to bed.
My 2 oldest watched a marathon of My Little Pony (my least favorite Netflix show) while my toddler wandered around the kitchen pulling out every pan and tupperware and dancing on the table until I finally gave up plucking her down and pushing away the chairs (which took all of two attempts). Around 5pm my bleary-eyed children, noticing their rumbling bellies, bounced on my lifeless body complaining about hunger. This elicited some response from me like, "You guys are mature enough to cook your own dinner now. Don't burn anything... like the whole the house." Eager to prove their independence they disappeared into the pantry, returning to the couch moments later with cupfuls of dry Marshmallow Mateys and a large helping of brownies. I congratulated them on "eating their colors" and reminded them to feed the baby too. I'm not sure if the baby ate any of the brownie or just used it as a crayon to decorate her face, clothes, hair, legs, floor, chairs and walls. Yeah, not really my best day of motherhood (but not my worst either). And it's not like I was preoccupied. Nor did I lack ideas of better things to do with my adorable children. I just didn't have the energy to care. Thank you chemo.
Ok, so I've been anticipating this from the first mention of chemo. I watched my mom go through it multiple times and she and I often compared being on chemo to going through pregnancy. It lasts about as long, wipes you out and makes you nauseated (and often a handful of other similar challenges). If I wasn't on chemo there's an ok chance I might have opted for pregnancy #4, so I suppose I could be in this exhausted state one way or another. It's frustrating though.
By the time S was born I was feeling pretty lousy about my motherhood. We watched 8-10 hours of TV a day, ate 3 square meals of cereal and were lucky to bathe the kids once a week. During the past year I've managed to wean back our screen time (computer included) to under 2 hours a day, implemented a program to regulate meal/snack times and food choices, and had introduced daily chores (my children learned how to put away their own clean laundry!). I was on the UP and I was feeling a wee bit super-momish.
But exhaustion has returned. Maybe not everyday, but more often lately. I tease Anthony that his blog post about Service jinxed us. I've been tired ever since that post. It just seems to be the way of things. 2 steps forward, 2 steps back.
But my sister reminded me Friday night that we weren't raised by a SuperMom either. She recalls being a TV addict as a kid and I remember eating a LOT of cereal, often after refusing to eat dinner. From my motherhood vantage point I look back and imagine that my sisters and I were picky and whiny and our mom was tired and frustrated so she just let it go. But in my childhood memory I recall being supremely happy. My mom managed to instill us with love and joy regardless of all the cereal and VHS movies. And somehow my sisters and I turned out to be happy functional adults who watch little TV and enjoy healthy meals. My sister also reminded me that my kids are in a home where they are very much loved, they are not abused or neglected, and they are being taught good values. Despite all the parenting magazines recommendations, despite the super programs of the other supermoms in the neighborhood, despite the lack of soccer and dance classes, life goes on (hallelujah!). With just as much chance to turn out as normal as the next guy. No super heroes here... and it's fine. It's fine. Now back to bed.
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