hazmat suits & sparkly shoes

hazmat suites & sparkly shoes

January 2012.  

I am scheduled to start chemotherapy on January 30th. I grew up in a family of women filled with fear. We are pretty much afraid of EVERYTHING. You can only imagine how terrifying the prospect of chemo is for someone that has never been exposed to it. Lucky for me, my bestie, Andria, has a friend who has just finished the whole process and has offered to chat about what lies ahead for me.

Andria and I head over to Joanna’s house. She is a lovely girl who underwent surgery, chemo and radiation all while planning her wedding. Joanna is a classic beauty and is open and engaging when talking about cancer. Her black lab comes over and offers a little lick of support. She tells me that the dog and an iPad were her chemo presents. What? Chemo presents? I cannot wait to get home and tell Carl about this. Just what I need – something to look forward to.

Joanna gives me the best advice ever: Go to The Agency with a positive attitude. Bring your best friends and some entertainment. Enjoy your time there and it will go quickly. I leave Joanna’s feeling much better than when I arrived and am thankful for her kindness and knowledge.

Day 1. I am the luckiest girl in the world. I am surrounded by the BEST friends and family. My other bestie, Kristina, has volunteered to come to my first appointment. KJ works in oncology with children, guiding them through their procedures. Is there a better person to have with you on the day that you start getting toxic chemicals pumped into your veins? She will know exactly what to do.

I arrive at The Agency with all of my pills, my iPad, some snacks, and wearing the most sparkly shoes that I own. Ava loves these shoes and when I wear them, I think of her and my heart bursts with happiness. The nurse comes in and is all business. She walks me through the pills and when I need to take each. The process is a bit overwhelming, so she writes it all down for me for future appointments, and I am grateful. At this point, it should really bother me that she is wearing a protective suit while she administers my “medicine”. It doesn’t. I have the perspective that this is going to help me. We are going to bomb the heck outta these little mofos living inside of me. It’s my way of taking control and using this insurance policy as a means to be around for my little girl for a very long time. 

Kristina and I spend a few hours there and when we are done, we decide that it’s a great idea to head down to the U.S. so I can purchase the Vitamix everyone has been talking about. Once you are diagnosed with cancer, it seems like the MOST logical thing to do -  buy a Vitamix and cure yourself with healthy smoothies. Looking back, we aren’t sure how we came up with this ridiculous plan OR how we thought it was a good idea, but off we go. We are in Bellingham loading my new blender into Kristina’s car when I go pale and look at her to say that I’m not feeling so great. Oh shit! It hits me like a ton of bricks. KJ loads me into the car and makes a beeline for the border.  

Once home, I start to feel incredibly sick. I’m lying on the living room floor, feeling like I cannot move a muscle or else my body will revolt against me. Carl calls The Agency for back-up and they provide a few ideas for relief. By the next morning, I  feel human again. Thank goodness! Not a great start to my four month regime. How am I going to get through it? Does it get progressively worse as I continue?  

The following days are not so bad until the back pain starts to set in. The pain is semi-tolerable and more manageable by all of the drugs that I ingest. I return to work the following week. Working sounds like a crazy idea, but when you are trying to keep your head straight and life normal for the sake of your family, it seems like a brilliant plan. I have two weeks between “treatments” and during this time, I have to do daily injections of a white blood cell booster (courtesy of Krista and Carl) that will get me ready for the next toxic invasion.

Round One complete……seven to go. More hazmat suits to come.

- Kim