I'm still here...

Here I am. It just recently occurred to me that if one has a major illness and starts a blog, and one's friends and relatives are caring enough to check the blog and see how one is doing, then "one" has an obligation to post with some regularity. Otherwise, people will think "one" has dropped off the face of the earth. Not. I'm still here.

I feel as if I'm running in place these days. I keep going, and life is passing by on the sides, but I'm not making any measurable progress, which is frustrating. And they keep moving the finish line on me!!! I started chemo in early August, and was slated for 12 sessions, one every other week for 6 months. I'm now 4 months into the process and have had only 5 sessions. Very frustrating!

I've had numerous interruptions. First, they couldn't get my white blood cell count up after the first treatment, so a delay of several weeks. Then my oncologist moved offices-- another interruption. Then I had to have surgery to remove melanoma on my ear-- another delay. And most recently, personal things to do, causing another delay. To add to this, my oncologist took "medical leave" beginning Oct. 1 and I've not seen a doctor since then. Nobody seems to know what's wrong with him, or they're not saying. Meanwhile they divvied up his patients among other doctors and physician assistants in the practice. I've been seeing a physician's assistant since then.

So that's all the medical drama. I seem to have one speed these days: s-l-o-w-w-w-w. I sleep a lot and everything seems to take more energy than I have. To run an errand or go out for some reason, really takes my whole day in preparing and then recovering. Also, I'm pretty committed to the wig and hats these days. I have 42 hairs left, and I'm not shaving them. But it's not enough to go out in public. And although that makes my prep time quicker, I'm still not used to it. I feel like I have a dead muskrat on my head with a neon sign that says "Cancer!" I'm hoping this will pass.

On a personal note: Ben and Caitlin are still living with us. And Ben's 75-lb. Siberian huskie who thinks he's a lap dog and sheds constantly. I'm hoping we won't be condemned by the Board of Health before he and dog move out (next Friday!!!!). Between dog's shedding and my hair loss we truly live in the "House of Hair." And not in a good way.

Allison's baby continues to be a delight to all of us. She's had some trouble gaining weight-- she's only 6 oz over her birth weight after 9 weeks. But she went to doctor again this week and he's changed formula for her so we are hopeful this will work. Developmentally she's on the mark; she just needs to gain weight.

Charlie's mom passed away last week-- the end of a long good-bye. She'd had Alzheimer's for 10 years. While it wasn't unexpected, it was difficult. My mother-in-law raised 11 children and did a fantastic job with all of them. There are 24 grandchildren and 5 great-grandchildren. So while it was a sad occasion, it was also a celebration of her life and legacy.

Charlie is thankfully working. He took an independent contractor position with a local company in early October.There are no benefits but we're able to maintain and put food on the table so God does provide. I've left this one up to Him-- I have too much on my plate to worry about income as well.

We are looking forward to Thanksgiving this week, and my prayer for all of you is that you are surrounded by family (& good food). Be thankful for what you have because there are no guarantees in life! Thank you for your prayers!

And the journey continues...

I know I haven't posted in awhile-- apologies. And I have nothing cheery or uplifting to share now, so again, if you're not in the mood for a "downer," don't read.

I have finished 4 chemo sessions so far. Eight more to go. But if you count the beginning of this journey as my surgery, on 6/26, then I estimate I'm about halfway through. I should finish chemo end of February if there aren't any more interruptions.

Speaking of interruptions, I'm on a break at the moment, to get my body in good shape for my ear surgery, tomorrow. Really looking forward to that-- NOT! They're going to remove the melanoma from my ear and God knows how I'll look after that. They'll probably want to shave the hair around my ear, and I've only got about 6 strands left. But I'm ready for Halloween-- a defective ear with patch, spotty hair, no eyelashes. I'm just going to add an eyepatch and a pirate hat and I'll scare the heck out of the neighborhood kids. Hopefully my chemo will resume next week, but unsure at this point.

I've bought a couple of wigs and had them styled but just can't bring myself to wear yet. I will definitely NOT be one of those people who goes ahead and shaves their head, so they can have more control over their illness. I'm hanging on to the very last strand, I promise you!

My latest issue is depression. They put me on an anti-depressant with max dosage. At first I felt embarrassed by this latest hurdle but decided who in the heck would NOT be depressed-- I ask you?!?!? So doing what I can. But most days my preference is the bed or the couch with the covers pulled over my head. Everything is an effort-- just showering and dressing. I just want it to be over! I know, what a wuss-- sorry.

So here's my tiny positive bit for this time: what keeps me going are the calls/messages, texts, emails, cards from my friends and family. I promise you, you will never realize how much they mean until you're in this position. That's what keeps me going and I thank you all for thinking about me and praying for me. Will try to be more positive in next update.

Introducing...

Introducing our new (first!) granddaughter: Kiley Grace was born September 16th to our oldest daughter, Allison, and her husband Charley. She weighed in at 7 lbs 11 oz and is perfect in every way! The only problem so far is that Allison and family live about 40 min. from us and Allison can't drive yet (because of C-section), and I'm still kind of down from chemo and not driving much either. I suggested they just keep the baby here for awhile, but nobody went for that idea!

There's nothing like a beautiful new grandbaby to take your mind off y9ur problems. I promise more pictures soon!

A Good Day..

Yesterday was a good day for me-- probably the best since my surgery. I emailed some customers, shopped at Target (albeit briefly!), and had lunch at Cracker Barrel. I even ate most of my vegetables, which is an accomplishment (this, from a former eating machine!).

I have lost about 35 lbs total-- and back to a weight I haven't seen in several years, which is quite lovely. But I don't recommend the diet! Appetite has been a big problem, which is funny since for years I've joked about wanting to be stricken with anorexia! And worst part is I have nothing to wear (like transitional clothes aren't tough enough already!), and don't really care. I certainly have zero inclination to shop (I know-- take my temperature!!!). I survived in sundresses for awhile, which became increasingly baggy. And now I've discovered that even my old "thin clothes" look like clown clothes on me. Who cares-- I'll enjoy the new body next year!

Speaking of next year, you probably won't recognize me. In addition to being skinny I will be bald. My hair is coming out when I just shake my head. I am so tired of hair everywhere, but I don't think I'm going to be one of those people with the guts to go ahead and shave it off. I'll probably just keep clinging to these dwindling strands as long as I can. My girlfriend has generously offered to go wig shopping with me next week so we'll see what happens. I'm thinking that since everybody's going to know it's not my hair, I might as well go for a new fun color. One of my cancer guides recommends cutting a swatch from the front of your head before you lose all your hair, so you can match up your natural color. It's been so many years since I've seen my "natural color," I'd have no idea what it is anyway, so we'll just take potluck!

But wait-- there's more fun to come! I'm sitting here the other night, finally going through a bunch of literature they gave me when I started chemo. (You can only absorb so much of this stuff at one time, I promise you). Anyway, I came across this sage advice: "Take a good close-up photo of your face before treatment as a guide for applying eyebrows after hair loss." Are you kidding me?!?!? I was ready for the other part but had given no thought to eyebrows. Sure enough, they're falling out as well. Heck, I thought the hair loss would mean less grooming time, not more. I was actually in a sad way looking forward to just popping on a hat and heading out the door. Now I'm going to have to draw on my freaking eyebrows first-- wish me luck on that one! (Eyelashes-- what do you think? The book doesn't mention them, but I'm betting I can't mascara nubs!)

I have come to the conclusion-- in a long-delayed moment of self-awareness-- that perhaps some of my meds are causing some of my side effects. Now, not the chemo meds-- that's a given. But I've been taking something to sleep since I came home from the hospital. In fact, I have 3 different choices on prescription sleep meds. My doctors really wanted me to sleep. But I was sleeping 9-10 hours a night and on awakening I had zero appetite-- I mean, I couldn't eat anything for hours, and felt very lethargic. So, last night was my 3rd night taking absolutely nothing. The good news is I feel much better in the morning. I can eat and I have more energy. The bad news is I'm not sleeping a lot, but I'm hoping it will work itself out over the next few days.

And medications? I've lost count. They are all perched on my kitchen counter like so many little soldiers, eagerly awaiting their chance to charge into battle. I have 3 for sleeping, 3 for nausea (different levels), 1 for anxiety (yeah, like this stuff wouldn't make anybody anxious!), an appetite enhancer, an anti-depressant (ditto), plus over-the counter stuff like fiber and Ensure. Whew! It's a good thing Charlie's still home at the moment to help me manage. Between sorting out meds and correcting insurance bills he does have a full-time job.

To make matters worse, have you noticed that your prescriptions these days-- if they're generic, I guess-- don't have the same name on them that your doctor prescribes? In other words, he's written me a prescription for Zofran, for nausea. And he asks me how the Zofran is working. Well, the "Zofran" bottle says Ondansetron on it in big bold letters. I don't see "Zofran" anywhere. If I get out my glasses and peer really closely, underneath, in tee-tiny print, it does say "generic for Zofran." But I never even saw that till my pharmacist brother-in-law pointed it out. And all my meds are that way. I'm looking for Xanax... oh, that would be the bottle that says Alprazolam. Right, like I have enough brain cells left to make those connections every time-- Maybe I've been taking the nausea medicine to sleep and that's my problem-- who knows?

Thanks for listening to my sad tale, but mostly, thanks for keeping me in your prayers. I'll keep you posted.

2nd treatment . . . finally!

This is Pam's youngest child, Caitlin. I'm happy to report that she successfully completed her second treatment of chemo this week! She and my dad went into the hospital on Wednesday with all of our fingers crossed, and thankfully her white blood cell counts were high enough to continue the treatment. It was nice for her to have a couple weeks off (especially so that she could attend both of my sister's baby showers in good spirits!), but we didn't want to prolong the process any more! She was hooked to her little fanny pack for the past 3 days and then went in this morning for them to take it back. Now she plans on taking it easy this weekend and getting lots of rest...definitely no labor for her this holiday weekend! Thanks for all your continued prayers and support, and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday!!


me, my sister Allison, my sister-in-law Jodi, and my mom at one of Allison's baby showers!

Another week of ... nothing

Yesterday was supposed to be chemo again. I showed up, hooked up (which is the unpleasant part), and then they ran my bloodwork and my white cell count was still too low so we're putting off chemo for another week. I feel like such a failure-- one round of chemo and I can't get strong enough for the second round. How am I ever going to complete 11 more?

My white cell count last week was 1.1 and had only risen to 1.3 this week. And apparently there's nothing I can do or not do to influence it. Diet, exercise, etc. have no bearing on it. My body just has to do the work. So now the plan is to wait till next week and try again. My oncologist is optimistic that next week will work. And apparently there's a shot of something they can give me that will help the white blood count but the catch is they have to do it after chemo. Then once they've given me the shot (which will have side effects, my brother tells me...), I have to wait 2 more weeks for chemo. So at least there's a plan, but it's definitely trying my patience. Just feel like I'm in limbo here, waiting.

Meanwhile, my hair is falling out faster than I can sweep it up. SIGH... I know back in July I said I could deal with it if that came to pass, but it's still really difficult, especially since my oncologist said it probably would thin some, but not all fall out. Well, I guess there's still hope for that-- maybe it's just really thinning! I'll keep you posted on that. (And all this hair loss with only one chemo treatment so far!)

On a personal note, Adam & Jodi (my son & daughter-in-law who live in VA), were here for 10 days and just left on Monday. Was sad to see them go. This is the third thime they've been here since my surgery and I've gotten spoiled-- they really lifted my spirits! While they were here we had a baby shower for Allison, my oldest daughter. That was a perfect thing to take my mind off myself for awhile-- all the cute little baby things, and getting to see lots of my friends.

Now it's back to everyday life-- which is actually quite full at the moment. Two of my children have moved back home and life is anything but dull here. However, that deserves it's own post, so more on that later.

Many thanks to all of my friends who keep in touch by mail or text or email. I'm not always good at responding, but the fact you are thinking about me means so very much. Your prayers and good wishes keep me going!

A Reprieve

Today was supposed to be the first day of my second chemotherapy cycle, but I got a reprieve. I showed up, got hooked up, and the first thing they do is check my blood (After the poking and prodding to find the port, and inserting the needle, I might add...). Anyway, the blood results came back and my white cell count is very low so the doctor decided to push back my next treatment for a week. That will give my body another week to recover. So they unhooked everything and I came home! It's kind of like getting a snow day-- today is free but I know I'll just have to make it up on the back end.

Please keep prayi ng...

Where is Pam?

Where is Pam? Right here. Betwixt and between. Not well, but not really sick. Not bedridden, but still pretty attached to the couch. Not in pain, but still taking meds. Not really hungry, but trying to eat. And pretty much clueless from one day to the next what to expect, which makes life frustrating for me and my family.

I would consider myself mostly healed from the surgery. I get twinges here and there, but all my incisions are healed enough so I can finally wear proper undergarments. (too much information? Sorry, but you have no idea how unsettling it is for a 54-year-old woman forced to go braless. So I just didn't "go." I'll leave it at that!). But I am changed in so many ways-- frustrating ways, and only time will tell which changes are temporary and which are not.

Before the surgery, I lived to read. It was my every-spare-moment retreat-- newwspapers, magazines and sometimes 2-3 books a week. Since the surgery, I haven't read more than a short article. I just don't seem to have any powers of concentration. Even People magazine has lost its tawdry appeal! And BS (Before Surgery), my default TV channel was Fox news. If I was home, or working in my office, it was on. I prided myself on being able to carry on a conversation with anyone on current/political events. Now my default channel is Food Network, which is ironic since food has become more of a burden than a joy to me. (And if you know me well, you know I lived to eat before surgery. I was all about the food!).

And independence? I'm extremely independent. I enjoy my "alone time," and could entertain myself quite well before surgery. I loved evenings when Charlie was out refereeing and I could cook or not, read a book and enjoy the quiet. Now, if he leaves me alone more than 2 hours I'm a whiny mess. In short, I don't know who I've become and I don't know what to do with myself!

My first chemo treatment came and went last week and I think I tolerated it fairly well. A couple of minor side effects during the treatment-- like not being able to drink anything cold-- were bothersome, but not overwhelming. The treatment-- where I actually went back and forth to the hospital-- was 3 days. Then the following 2 days I just decorated the couch and felt like crap. At least now I know what to expect-- one down and 11 more to go.

And my second cancer-- the melanoma? My oncologist and my new ENT doctor will consult and decide when best to interrupt my chemo treatment so the melanoma can be removed. It will be an outpatient surgery but will require general anesthesia (yet again!). My oncologist wanted me to get several treatments "under my belt" first, so it probably won't happen till early fall. The procedure to remove it will involve pulling skin from the back of my ear-- right, that's what I said-- THERE IS NO SKIN BEHIND MY EAR-- are you crazy? Doctor says will change the curvature of ear a little but won't be hugely noticeable. Yeah, right, unless I lose all my hair from chemo. Then I'll just be the bald whacko with the weird ear. Give me a patch and I can pass as a pirate!!!

But enough of my whining for now. I'm sure they'll eventually get my medications regulated and I can feel more "even," and leave my poor pharmacist brother-in-law alone. I must call him twice a week in a dither over my meds. God bless him for his endless patience!

Please keep praying for me-- this "in between" time is so frustrating. I'm me, but I'm not, and I just don't know where to go from here. I call it the "smoke & mirrors" syndrome. I look the same on the outside, but feel like a totally different person on the inside. I'm still not much for talking on the phone and communicate best via print. Thank goodness for texting or I wouldn't even "talk" to my kids.

It's not been an easy journey by any means, and it's far from over, but considering the alternative, I'm thrilled to have the chance to take it. I'll keep plugging along, knowing that God "has his arms around me," in the encouraging words of my friend, Jim. Coupled with the prayers and support of all my fabulous friends, I'm going to be a tough act to beat!

1 DOWN!! 35 to go...

This is Pam's second son, Adam, and I am writing in lieu of Pam. I am making her dictate though, so still her words.

"I had my first chemotherapy today. Arrived early (thanks Chuck) at 10am, and left at 4pm. Currently knee deep in being overwhelmed (i.e. Pity party for 1). Was hooked up to pump machines for 3 hours of that time. At the end of the time, they sent me home with a new addition. My very own chemo pump in a decorative navy blue (shoot me if caught in public with it) fanny pack!!! It helps me maintain a constant dose of the drugs. I am sure I will get used to it, but I did mention that it is a FANNY PACK?!?!?! I return tomorrow for another 2 hours hooked up to drugs in a room with very comfy chairs. During which time I get more machines and drugs, then repeat FANNY PACK procedure for another day. On the following day (Friday), I go back for a short visit to be disengaged from my chemo pump and AWESOME FANNY PACK!!! Did I mention a fanny pack? Rest for 10 - 12 days without touching ice cubes or anything cold, and start it all over again. It will lead me through to complete a total of 12 sessions in 6 months time.

"All of the possible/probable side effect instruction was a bit daunting - - it took Charlie, Adam, and myself to try and understand.

"But far more overwhelming was the company during the 3 hour medicine hookup session. The "chemo room" consists of 8 lazy-boy chairs that were all full today (and two others in a separate room) --people with cancers far more advanced than mine, and rougher treatments. One lady is on the same 3-day regimen, but her total time will be 23 hours in the chair/hooked up in the "chemo room". And there was lots of discussion among the fellow patients about wigs, treatments, and surgeries - - all of which sounded worse and far scarier than my situation. I am very grateful, but overwhelmed. Please include these people, their familes, and caregivers in your prayers as well.

"On a lighter note, my son Adam (who lives in VA) surprised me yesterday, LITERALLY, when he stepped from the dining room to the family room. All of my children have been wonderful and supportive, but if you know Adam, you know he brings the "goofy" with him, and he has lifted all of our spirits.

"Thank you for your continued prayers and support. They keep me going."

Based on Pam's dictation, and extreme following of quotation mark usage according to MLA guidelines, the above are Pam's words, thoughts, and feelings. On a separate note, (this is Adam) my siblings and father would like to thank everyone who has sent kind words, thoughts, prayers, gifts, food, well-wishes, and good feelings towards us and Pam. We are so blessed and comforted by the outpouring of love and generosity from so many people we know and love, and even those we do not know who are praying for our entire family. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts, and God Bless!!!

The above is an excerpt from the future book, "The Journey Towards the New Me" by Pam Riddell

Pam and Caitlin at DisneyWorld July 28, 2009

REALLY?!?!?

OK - In the category of (almost) impossible to believe, I have now been diagnosed with skin cancer -- lentigo maligna-- a form of melanoma, to be exact, and it's located on my earlobe. (I thought it was just a freckle!)

I kept a dermatologist appointment last week that I'd had scheduled for months. Thought it might even had some variety to my day-- seeing new and different doctors, and talking about something other than my colon. My dermatologist biopsied my earlobe-- what I thought was just a big freckle. WRONG-O! My doctor called me this morning @ 7:30 am to share that it is an early form of melanoma. She is referring me to a local ear, nose & throat doctor because, in her words, "you're not exactly swimming in skin on your earlobe." My appointment is set for next Tuesday, the day before I begin chemotherapy. (Caitlin thinks it could be "cool." "Will make you look arty, like Van Gogh")

At this point I'll be honest. I am more pissed than upset. I mean, really, there are not enough cancers to go around for everybody to have their own? I have to double up and get two?!?!? And all of this on top of Charlie's unemployment? Somehow my name has gotten onto the wrong list!!!

So I'll close with the following and ask you to help get the word out:

NOTE: If you are looking for a spokesperson for a specific cancer, please contact Pam Riddell @ PRiddell37919@aol.com. We can't make any promises, but we do have strong credentials (colon cancer and melanoma), and we are apparently on the "Cancer Hot List." Let me know if you need more info or a picture. (Use your imagination: a bald woman with one ear...)

Things you can quit...

... Smoking
... Your Job
... Biting Your Nails
... Drinking
... Sports
... A Diet
... Your Marriage
... People you don't like
... Your Kids (if you're really cold..)
... even... Your Life


Things You CAN'T Quit:

CANCER

and, fortunately, God!

Hell has frozen over...

Did you hear it? (Actually, does it make a noise when it freezes over...). Well, I never thought I'd see the day but they have added a new medication to my regimen-- ONE TO INCREASE MY APPETITE!!! Now you know "Old Pam" is in bad shape. (And how can this be possible when The Food Network has become my default channel? I assure you, I've been their top viewer for the last 3 weeks!)



The first couple of weeks after I came home from the hospital I literally ate everything in sight. My friends were so wonderful in bringing tempting dishes over for us, and who could resist?!? But now I'm just not so interested. So they're having me drink some vile liquid stuff every morning. I'll let you know how that goes.



The Gray Murk hangs on. I can see no progress this week at all. My shoulder is feeling somewhat better and I'm back off the Percocet, which is a good thing, but still not sleeping so well. Last night I took 2 "Restaril" and a Percocet, and... NOTHING. (My pharmacist brother-in-law will probably have a fit when he reads this!) I think I must have dozed off finally sometime after 3am. But when I lie in bed at night I do feel closest to my "old self." I can make plans for the following day and I actually feel more energized than I do during the day. But then daytime comes again and I'm faced with the reality of showering, which is still a challenge, and all the other things necessary to "go out," and I just go to the couch instead. The spirit is strong, but the body is still weak.

I have found a new friend in "Xanax," or as I call it, "the medication that keeps me from bursting into tears at odd times and in front of most anyone." A condition I definitely need to get under control.

My family remains my constant support. Friends have been so great with beautiful cards and notes and calls, but I just don't feel like talking yet. Kind of like I have to get my head screwed on right before I make my "debut." How terrible would we all feel if I just burst into tears? Gotta' get that one under control. So I do try to talk with the kids and be there for them-- that's the extent of it for now.

I'm sure most of you know that Allison, our oldest daughter, is pregnant with our first grandchild, and due in early October. I really have spent some "quality" time with her the last couple of weeks trying to help her put together her list of baby "needs" and register them. Who knew this would be so hard? Back when we had kids, you got a few "onesies," some undershirts, and if you were lucky, maybe a swing or diaper pail. Now, there are 5 pages of swings to choose from alone-- and you have to read the comments, and study the safety listings, and GEEZ-- I've been using more brain cells than I gave myself credit for! But I am quite enjoying it and it keeps me from being totally bonkers. (The spirit so wants to actually GO to the baby store and look at all this stuff, but so far I've been confined to the internet. At least I can do that.)

Will try to post again when I have more positive news and less whining...

Family Portrait

The entire family. Taken two weeks after my surgery...Friday, July 10th, 2009.

What Fresh Hell is this?

So, I went to have the chemotherapy port installed on Friday. It's a small device, approximately the size and shape of a contact case-- two distinct circles, side by side, with an attached catheter of sorts. And it's inserted high on my left chest wall.

Charlie and I showed up about 9:30 for the 11:30 procedure. This was the third time in 3 weeks I'd done this-- first for the colonoscopy on 6/24, and then for the actual surgery on 6/26. I knew the routine and all the nurses remembered me. My doctors characterized it as a very minor procedure-- would only take about 15 min. Then we'd be good to go and ready to start chemo in a couple of weeks.

I tolerated the procedure very well, was actually awake as I left the OR. I chatted with the nurse (intelligently, I might add-- not post-surgery gibberish), who was amazed at how well I did and I was amazed at how well I felt. No pain at all! Couldn't wait to get home. (I think I mentioned "Old Pam" was fully running the show at this point.) Caitlin-- who has a very odd fascination with my wounds-- insisted on taking a picture of my new incision with her cell phone. (Geez, probably on YouTube by now...). All in all, a neat and tidy procedure accomplished with a minimum of pain or hassle, and I got right back to my life.

WRONG!!! Nobody mentioned that when the anesthesia wore off it would feel like someone had carved out my solar plexus with a dull melon baller-- YIKES! Thank God for the pain meds, which at the moment I am taking faithfully every 6 hours. I don't remember having this much PAIN (yeah, the hospital likes to say "discomfort," but it's PAIN) with my original surgery and 12-inch incision. Of course, they were giving me intravenous drugs so maybe they just kept me doped up and I didn't know...

So, it wasn't bad enough I walked bent over like an old crone, protecting my incision and midsection. Now the left half of my body is useless as well, and my arm just sort of hangs there, like a decoration. Sigh... it's kind of like Cancer Pam is trying to beat the s**t out of Old Pam. But, as evidenced by this blog entry, Old Pam is in charge today! Wish me luck...

War of my Worlds

OK -- you know how sometimes on TV or in the movies they'll use a gimmick to demonstrate two sides of a character? Or to show his spirit after he's dead? Basically, they just split the actor in two, to show either the good guy & bad guy battling with each other, or whatever the two separate facets are that they're trying to demonstrate. Are you following me? I'm not explaining very well, but that's what my world is like now. Two separate people in this one body.

First we have "Old Pam." (And it kills me to call her "old," but "chronologically pre-dating the cancer" is just too awkward! So we will have to call her Old Pam). It took 100% of Old Pam, both mentally and physically to BE Old Pam. That's who I was. Now we have "Cancer Pam," and it's the same thing. It takes Cancer Pam-- right now-- 100% of her being to be Cancer Pam-- to live in this new world, learn new terms, be concerned about new things. And not just "be concerned," but re-prioritizing your life with a new center.

Are you following me now? Two, separate, distinct individuals, both demanding 100% of the physical and mental "being" of Pam. It's like I'm warring with myself. And right now the battle is hot-- both sides want "ALL" or nothing.

Earlier this week Old Pam was strong. The body was still weak and recovering, but Old Pam was running the brain and thinking appropriate "Old Pam" things: emails I needed to write, calls I needed to make, what we need to buy at the grocery store, helping plan Allison's baby shower, etc. Even though I was lying on the couch and still in post-surgery mode, Old Pam was fully in charge and engaged.

Then around Wednesday Cancer Pam showed up and demanded ALL of the attention. Nothing had changed physically, but I became completely incapable of doing anything from my "real life." I just listened to the phone ring and couldn't do a thing about it. It's like a shroud descended on me and I couldn't see past it.

Now, here's the really screwy part: on Friday I had to go back to Baptist West to have my port installed for chemotherapy--more on that later. But suffice it to say it took up my whole day. And guess who was in residence then? OLD PAM!!! See how screwy it is. I'm in the hospital, right back in "pre-op" for the third time in 3 weeks, and instead of being consumed with the procedure at hand, I'm thinking about how I'd like to go to Steak & Shake for lunch, and check out the Baby Sale in Turkey Creek, as soon as I leave the hospital. I literally left the OR wide awake and ready to go-- thinking about things I wanted to do. (Ultimately, Caitlin talked me out of the shopping because my neck was still covered in betadine and she said I looked like Big Bird and would scare people, so we came home instead.)

But you see how confusing all this is? I never know who's going to be in charge-- Old Pam or Cancer Pam. I guess that will be the rest of my story-- reconciling the two.

Doctor's visit

Today I went back to see my surgeon, Dr. Greg Roberts. I love him and feel so blessed that he's in charge of my care. He made me feel better about my ups and downs. The first week I was home I really seemed to feel better and maneuver better each day. I expected it to continue. WRONG! This week has been tough. I felt like as my incision healed, everything else should get better as well, but Dr. Roberts says it's very much an up and down thing and to not be discouraged. This week I haven't even had the energy to work on my emails. Seems like a simple thing, but especially for work, I have to put on the "Pam persona" and exude positive (with customers), and I couldn't do it. Maybe the weekend will be better...

Also, I haven't slept worth a nickel this week. Was trying hard not to take the Percocet any more, and the sleep prescription alone wasn't cutting it. Haven't slept well all week. Dr. Roberts says I should take whatever I need to sleep-- percocet is fine by him. Made me feel better and hopeful I'll sleep tonight.

He also told me he was surprised by how quickly I was able to leave the hospital. He had fully expected me to stay 10 days AFTER the surgery, and I was able to leave only a week later. He said the insurance company was probably happy about that. (Glad somebody's happy!).

Tomorrow I'm having the port inserted for my chemotherapy. It's an outpatient procedure, but requires anesthesia, etc. Talk about deja vue!!! I can't say I'm looking forward to it. He said I should expect to be sore (like I've been punched...) for 3-5 days afterwards. Again, just when sleep and some relief seems to be at hand-- new hurts! Caitlin will post for me this weekend and update you all on that.

An unexpected thought came to me last night (while I was lying awake...), and I decided it was a gift. If I had to have cancer, I think I found out the best way possible. I woke from the anesthesia, was told, and the planning began for my surgery. Also, I got good drugs from the start and don't remember much about the interim between the diagnosis and the surgery. And I'm grateful for that. How much worse it would be have been to find out via a test or doctor's visit and then have to come home and dwell on it while the planning and scheduling commenced. I think the worry alone could drive you out of your mind, so I thank God I didn't have to endure that as well.

Please keep praying for me-- your prayers help more than you will ever know!

How I got here...

Cancer. This is a journey I never expected to take-- couldn't happen to me. WRONG! Even though I can catastrophize with the best of them, I hadn't even considered a scenario where I got anything but a clean bill of health from my colonoscopy. It was a routine test, scheduled because I was due. No symptoms. Nothing that would lead me to worry about any outcome other than the expected. I fully intended to wake up post-procedure, get dressed and go have lunch with my husband.

Instead, I find myself on a very, very different road now. My whole life is changed-- not sure where I'm going, only that a long and difficult road is between here and "whole again." I have been so totally overwhelmed by calls, and cards and notes and food and flowers from so many friends it's hard to grasp. But the good wishes and prayers are what have sustained me these last 3 weeks. So this blog seemed to be a good way to share the journey for anyone interested, and I'm told it will be therapeutic for me. We'll see. I do seem to be short a few brain cells post-surgery so if nothing else, will be good exercise!

It started with a routine scheduled colonoscopy. I'd had one about 5-6 years before so knew what to expect, etc. But waking up to the words "colon cancer" wasn't in the plan. I'm sure it was much harder for my family-- my husband who was waiting and realizing it was taking too long and something must be wrong. That part is kind of hazy for me. I remember "colon cancer" and being given the option of going home and coming back to start all over, OR choose a surgeon and proceed with surgery ASAP. I chose the latter and they admitted me to the hospital at that point. That was my only real decision. God handled the rest. He provided me with a wonderful, caring gastroenterologist-- who I had just met for the first time that morning. He sent me an awesome surgeon, and a wonderful oncologist. They are my team and are guiding me on this journey.

The hospital stay is becoming more hazy by the day-- thankfully. Ten days total-- 4-5 days of that in ICU. I didn't even realize at the time I was in ICU. But when Charlie (my husband) commented for the 3rd or 4th time on what beautiful flowers I'd received from someone, I got suspicious. I may have been on drugs, but could look around the room and plainly see there were no flowers! Who was he trying to sell here? That's when he told me I was in ICU and the flowers were waiting elsewhere.

So, I survived the surgery. Dr. Roberts, my surgeon, removed 60% of my colon and resected it in 2 places. My gastroenterologist-- Dr. Silver-- was quite surprised that I had had no symptoms. In hindsight, I realize I might have felt bloated pre-surgery, but just chalked it up to being overweight-- I hadn't given it a second thought.

I can't emphasize enough how important it is to have a colonoscopy when you hit the magic age-- 45 or 50. It's yucky, for lack of a more descriptive word, and nobody enjoys it. Heck, nobody even wants to talk about it-- myself included. But I have to emphasize again-- I HAD ZERO SYMPTOMS. This colonoscopy saved my life, I hope. If you're due, please go get one. Do it for your family and the people who love you.

So, here I am almost 3 weeks post-surgery. I'm pretty much off the pain killers-- they do give you some awesome drugs in the hospital-- maybe that's why it's a little hazy... I'm still having trouble sleeping. My oncologist gave me something new yesterday-- Restaril?-- so we'll see how that works. But my surgeon said my sleep cycle would be disrupted for awhile. Sigh... Everything seems much more doable if I can just sleep.

My chemotherapy is scheduled to start week of August 3rd. It will be a 3-day cycle every other week, 12 sessions total-- 6 months. I've been briefed on the possible side effects which seem a little daunting. In the hospital, having survived the surgery, which was pretty big in my world, the prospect of chemotherapy seemed less scary. I sort of figured at the time, I've gotten through the surgery, that has to be the worst of it. Now I'm having second thoughts.

Actually, yesterday when I walked into my oncologist's office for the first time and was confronted with a female patient who was obviously going through chemo (she was bald), I kind of lost it. Since then I've been thinking a lot about the millions of men and women who have preceded me on this journey. We are all surrounded by them. Do we notice them? Do we really see them? I don't think I did before this. Of course, the most obvious visible sign is baldness. But I never really thought about these people before or what they must be going through. I have to admit to maybe even being afraid of them. Like, if I acknowledge them it might make me more vulnerable to this disease. I hope I've been alone in these thoughts and that others are more compassionate than I have been till now. I realize now that hair loss is just a superficial thing-- it almost doesn't even count when you look at the bigger picture of the suffering these people are enduring. And it's daily-- 24/7, especially in the middle of the night. You can't escape it. It's like a cape you're forced to wear and you can't take it off. The best I can hope for is to stand up tall and wear it the best I can-- I won't let it wear me.