I haven’t been working since about a week before my surgery. I won’t be going back to work for at least six more months. The idea of taking eight months off of work would have been so appealing to me back in July – back when I was working and hated my job and my life. I would go back to that in a heartbeat. It’s amazing how things can change and how a cancer diagnosis puts everything into perspective. I’m not trying to throw a big pity party for myself though. There is always a silver lining – even in a situation like this. I have realized how many people care about me and have reached out and offered their support. One wall of my bedroom is covered by about 100 get well cards. I now know on days that I feel all alone, I am alone by choice because there are so many people out there that I could call. The card wall is a constant reminder of that.
That was a total tangent from where I was headed with this post. I’m trying to figure out how to fill my time since most of my responsibilities have disappeared. Any book or movie recommendations are welcome. I’ve started a couple of craft projects and my mom is sending me a complicated jigsaw puzzle. Any other ideas??
I’ve been trying for several days to write a post describing how I felt about the benefit on Sunday night. It has proved extremely difficult to put my gratitude and admiration into words. I only hope that I have been able to do justice to all those who made this event possible.
First, I want to thank the incredibly talented group of artists who performed. You were all amazing and I was truly touched by your generosity.
I also want to thank all of my friends who volunteered their time to help out at the event. I feel very fortunate to have so many good friends.
Finally, I need to thank my friends who organized the entire event. The time and energy that they devoted to the concert and the poker tournament for almost two months was truly appreciated. Jim, Robert, Sarah, Ragan, Kip, Deb, John and Billy, you all hold a special place in my heart and I feel very lucky to know each one of you. Thank you.
I've had over a week to digest the treatment plan that my oncologist laid out for me. Out of all the information I was given, there is one thing that stands out. One of the drugs I will be receiving can cause extreme sensitive to cold. On the surface, it doesn't seem to be that odd or disturbing; however, it means that I cannot open the refrigerator like a normal person. Instead, I will have to stand behind the door to block the cold. Standing in front of the fridge as it is opened could startle me. Those were the nurse's exact words. I also will likely be unable to drink cold beverages or eat ice cream or popsicles. They will all cause my mouth to go numb. Regarding the rest of the treatment plan, I will begin once my surgical wound has healed. The treatments will be every two weeks. The duration is unknown, but likely to be between four and six months. I will spend half a day in the office receiving drugs through a portacatheter which will be inserted in an outpatient surgical procedure. Then they will hook up a pump which will give a continuous drip for the next 46 hours. I will have to go back to the office after the 46 hours to get it turned off. I will be receiving the FOLFOX regime of chemotherapy drugs with Avastin which is a monoclonal antibody. You can read more about these drugs on any site about colon cancer. It is the typical first line treatment for metastatic colorectal cancer.
This blog was created by Christine Niemi to detail her experiences as she went through treatment for stage IV colon cancer. Christine passed away July 18, 2009. Her family and friends continue to update the blog with memories of Christine and colorectal cancer-related news. Thank you for stopping by!