The Dreaded Treadmill

One of the greatest advantages to running outside is admiring the ever-changing landscape.  The smell of the lilacs or rose bushes as you brush your arm against them or the statuesque, yellow daffodils as they creep above the soil in early spring, add spring to my step as I hustle along.  That being said, I’ve never liked treadmills.  Running or walking on a treadmill is like being a gerbil trapped in a cage, spinning around and around the wheel and never, truly getting anywhere.   The few times I’ve been constrained to a treadmill (cruise ships and gym days when the weather produced too icy or snowy conditions to run), I begrudgingly counted the minutes from the moment I stepped on it.  It’s akin to a prison, where you must do what you are told, during the time it commands you. 

For 34 years, I resisted any enticement to purchase or work out on a treadmill.  Living in Seattle, there are fewer days than I can count on one hand, where the weather could deter me from running (ice and heavy snow are rarities).  So, it should shock you, as much as it did me, when my medical assistant started talking about treadmills in Fall 2015 and I actually bit the bullet and purchased one.  My biggest justification was that I could walk, rather than sit, while finishing work on the computer and as I felt less steady on my feet (frequent trips to the pavement), it may actually be a little safer. Of course, I proved the latter to be untrue as I stumbled while trying to drink water on the treadmill.  Note to self:  stop the treadmill, to take a drink. 

I purchased my treadmill in late November in hopes that it would arrive before Christmas and before the weather worsened (got colder).  Little did I know, but my shortness of breath, fatigue, cough and stumbling were all likely symptoms of the lymphoma surrounding my lungs, heart and internal organs.  Not surprisingly, the treadmill did not arrive until after the first of the year.  At this point, I had started my lymphoma journey, with scans, surgery and then starting chemotherapy treatments every other week.  As the weather reached its coldest temperatures and the darkness ensued by 4 pm, it was refreshing to be able to walk on the treadmill in warmer conditions for 15-20 minute segments when my muscles were aching from sitting or reclining too much.  Despite my husband's philosophy, there is such a thing as too much rest. 

Eventually, I constructed a computer stand for the treadmill (whom I now call, “Brutus”).  Finding a spare piece of 8 x ½ x 60 inch board in our garage, left over from the construction of our home 17 years ago, I swiftly transformed it with duct tape, a rubberized shelf cover and some sand paper, into an ugly, but functional table.  This has become my new work station for writing, blogging, reading or working on the computer.  The walking tends to improve my appetite and provides the energy to hopefully accomplish at least one of my tasks targeted for the day. 

At first, I still dreaded going on the treadmill, but as I utilized my newly constructed setup more, I realized that it procured a sense of freedom, allowing me to write (type) out my blogs and start to put thoughts on paper.  It was a struggle at first.  I so easily fell captive by the dark, dreary, and rainy days of February that I had to push myself to write.  If not for the encouragement of friends and family to blog, so they could be informed of my condition, prognosis and outlook, I likely would have stayed inside and slept.  But, I felt obligated to give something back to those who have provided so much support and love to me.  So, I forced myself to jump on Brutus at least twice a week and get writing. 

As the weather improved, my drive to enjoy the sunshine and outdoors started stirring inside.  I regained the confidence of running outside and, although slow, I started walking/running again.  The drawback, of course, was the detachment from the treadmill and therefore, the decrease in my writing.  Not only did the sunshine lure me outside, but it lifted my spirits to start a few home projects (like organizing files and cleaning the house).  In addition, my children elected to spend their spring breaks with their mother.  My two college kids came home for a few days and we watched movies, took a boat ride to Victoria to see the gorgeous blossoms at the Butchart gardens and played card & board games together.  Two weeks later, my high school son’s spring break arrived and similarly, we played tourists in Seattle.  We went on a boat ride around the harbor, finally gazed at the impressive glass work at the Chihuly glass museum (it’s been on my bucket list for years), visited the zoo and aquarium and picked up some macaroni and cheese at the Pike Place Market.  Time spent with family is always cherished and I will forever be grateful for these memories we shared. 

The month of May, however, saw the return of colder and rainier weather.  So, I am back on the treadmill and writing.  As I peer at my computer, glancing at my shoes going back and forth across the black, rubbery belt, I chuckle as I realize that this treadmill, Brutus, was a gift from God.  Looking back to November, I had no idea why I was suddenly persuaded to purchase a treadmill, the very dreaded instrument that I despised.  Yet, I did.  Everything from the timing of its delivery, my diagnosis, and the ugliness of the weather seemed finely orchestrated. For those struggling to find meaning to life, events or tragedy, I can only provide this one piece of advice:  Trust in God, or whatever higher power in which you believe.  When we get caught up in the busy-ness of our own lives, we forget to stop and listen or observe.  By listening, we can hear and discern God’s great plan for us and what provides meaning to our life.  Whether you believe in God or not, struggling through life without meaning is like entering a tunnel without a light.  You may know and understand that you are in a tunnel, but finding the direction to proceed will be very difficult.  Your senses will be your only guide and sometimes even they can fool you.  With a source of light, you can see the walls that surround you and guide you to an opening.  That opening will show the landscape that is our life and the beauty that lies ahead.  Sometimes it’s the thing that we despise most (the treadmill) that thrusts us forward to something greater. 

The meaning of life is to find your gift.  The purpose of life is to share it with others.  ~ a modification of a quote from Pablo Picasso

God didn’t promise days without pain, laughter without sorrow, sun without rain, but He did promise strength for the day, comfort for the tears, and light for the way.  If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it.  ~ Unknown

My home office...duct tape works for everything! 

Infusion 10: Slight Scheduling Snafu

Amazingly, like clockwork, I awaken at 4:24 am with a hot flash that stirs me from a dead sleep and enhances my awareness of my full bladder.  As I groggily head to the bathroom, I fan myself by pinching my sweat-drenched shirt and pulling it away from my glistening skin.  This is my morning routine, I think to myself, while washing my hands and grabbing a drink of faucet-cold water.  Since it’s still dark out, I will myself to return to sleep.  But, willing yourself doesn’t always work.  And as the birds start their singing routine outside my window and the clock turns 6 am, I decide that it’s time to arise. 

This week, my infusion was scheduled later than usual, so it gave me time to wander out for a run/walk.  Given the events at Bothell High School (an assault on the woodshop teacher), I was anxious to hear if there were any new leads on a suspect.  So, I ventured down the road, avoiding the news crews’ cameras obstructing the sidewalk, but seeing no change in the ongoing investigative work.  Turning the corner to head home, I ran into a disheveled man walking a bike, with a crazed look in his eyes, looking somewhat out of place.  I wondered if this may have been the perpetrator, but sensed that it was just my imagination hoping to put closure on a terrifying event, certainly the campus cameras would help find the criminal.

After returning home, I showered, applied the numbing cream to my port and grabbed a bite to eat.  I gathered my loaded bag with kindle, magazines, coloring book and card games to bring to the infusion center.  It was nearly 10 am and we were loading up the car when I received a call from the infusion center.  “Theresa, are you coming in today?” It was Kim, my infusion nurse.  I replied, “Yes, we are just on our way.”  “Well, we had you on the schedule at 9:30 this morning.”  I explained how both my husband and I had 10:30 on our google calendars, but we would get there as soon as possible.  Unfortunately, this hasn’t been the first scheduling fiasco we’ve encountered, but certainly impacted both the infusion center and my oncologist’s schedule. 

When we arrived at the hospital, Chris dropped me off at the entrance so I could get there as quickly as possible.  An elderly woman beat me to the front desk, so I impatiently waited as the receptionist slowly checked her in and answered all her questions.  Although I arrived 15 minutes before my “scheduled time”, she didn’t start checking me in until 10:35.  At that point, Chris and my oncologist both arrived to see what bay I’d be in, but finding me still in the waiting room. 

Nonetheless, my oncologist was gracious and said she’d return later and Kim drew my blood quickly when I arrived, so that I could get the ball-a-rolling.  My labs took about an hour to return, but showed an ANC of 300 (100 higher than 2 weeks prior), so I was ready to rock-n-roll.  Shortly after starting my pre-medications, a high school friend, Alex, arrived with delicious, lemon macaroons in tote.  We caught up on about 20 years of history, until the Benadryl kicked in and I started to fade.  She continued to entertain my husband while I verified my identification for the chemo medication administration.  After Alex left, I quickly fell asleep.  This is the first time I have actually slept through my infusion, but the cumulative fatigue, early awakening and Benadryl finally caught up to me (and evidently Chris as well!) 

We left the infusion center about 4 pm and arriving home, I curled up on my recliner and fell asleep again.  This would continue until about 11 pm, when I finally headed to bed.  It was refreshing to feel sleepy despite the steroids, but it was definitely a drugged sleep.  I think it had been 20 years since the last time I had taken Benadryl, as I don’t remember a meager 25 mg affecting me so significantly.  Nonetheless, when the clock struck 4:24 am, my internal furnace turned on for me to arise again. 

This time, I felt wide awake and rather than awaken Chris, I gathered my phone, browsed Facebook, the internet and as my stomach started aching and growling, I ventured downstairs for a bite to eat. 

The rain poured outside as I placed a K-cup in the Keurig.  Chris stirred on the couch and was about to get up and wash dishes when I elected to do them instead.  The steroids were starting to kick in and the endless energy/restlessness began.   Fortunately, I knew I’d still have about 24 hours before the nausea medications wear off, so I tried to utilize my energy as best as I could and ventured to Starbucks to get coffee for a friend and support the school kids’ garage sale for Relay for Life.  All in all, a fairly uneventful first 24 hours after infusion, without reactions or pain, but just a disjointed sleep schedule.  I know I can do this 2 more times.  Only one month remains till the end of this segment of my journey.  

It's a series of small steps performed regularly and consistently towards a goal, that ultimately brings you across the finish line. 

The finish line is just the beginning of a whole new race.  

Oh, the Places I’ll Sleep…A Spouse Perspective

They say the longer you are with one person, the more you start to think alike.  Many of you may only know Chris, my husband, as the one who is sleeping wherever we go.  Well, you can’t judge a book by its cover.  Behind that façade, is a loyal, thoughtful, analytical, yet humorous gentleman.  He may not always give the best first impression, but once he gets to know you and feels comfortable around you, you will see the warmhearted man inside.  Despite his impeccable ability to sleep anywhere, his attention to details and unfailing love are probably two of his more enduring qualities.  That being said, I will now present Chris’s perspective of my journey (or my perspective of his perspective). 

As with anything new, you ponder about how this is going to change your life.  The shock of hearing your spouse has cancer is never an easy bone to chew.  My first thoughts were about the financial ramifications, particularly with 2 kids in college and one soon to be.  However, Chris has always grounded me on this aspect and said, “Just think of it as taking our retirement a little early for the next 6 months.”  Sometimes he knows just the right thing to say. 

Of course, thinking about retirement brings images of couples that I know who found they had difficulty being at home with each other 24/7.  I’m not sure if Chris was ever concerned about the impact my leave would have on his lifestyle or our relationship, but I certainly was a little worried, after stories that I’ve heard.  Yet, if anything, I feel our relationship has strengthened during this ordeal.  While we both enjoy our own pursuits, we’ve had more opportunities to communicate.  Although he may be folding clothes upstairs and I’m watching some stupid talk show on TV while going through email, I’ll call him downstairs to look at the “coincidentally”, goofy coordinating outfits between the host and their guest.  The next thing we know, we find ourselves jocularly comparing the outfits like one of those Highlights magazine puzzles, “Find the differences between these two pictures.” 

Spending more time together has actually made it easier to look beyond our faults and shortcomings as it generates greater perspective.  Rather than catching that glimpse of what each other’s day is like and wondering why something didn’t get accomplished or what consumed our day, we actually see each other’s approaches and respect them more.  For instance, Chris or I may be reviewing Facebook posts while awaiting our food to be warmed in the microwave or attempting to open a web page to pay an online bill, but soon we share something funny and go off on a tangent.  Though these tangents may take us away from the task at hand, we are truly enjoying each other, while sharing a chuckle or two. 

Although the prospect of death and suffering are uncomfortable for most, Chris and I, much like comedians, enjoy making light of uncomfortable subjects.  Humor brings smiles, laughter and often perspective, which are all welcoming in my eyes.  While waiting for the ultrasound tech in a darkened room, I lay on a gurney, in my gown and a thin sheet (to keep me warm).  I jokingly cover my head with the sheet, laying still, with one arm dangling off the bed.  We both laugh, pondering what people might think if he posted (on Facebook), this picture of me as if I was in a morgue with the caption, “Is this a bad sign?”  So, he takes a picture of the event, but only to mark the memory for us, as we don’t want to alarm anyone or make others uncomfortable.  I almost die of laughter, with tears pouring from my eyes, at how well we understand each other.

I’m certain that Chris has other insights and stories that he’d tell if this blog was truly from his perspective, but I’ll reserve those for another day.  Today, I am hoping that you all can see an uncomfortable or difficult situation from a different perspective and try to make the most of it.  See the humor in life and be thankful for those that support you.

Humor is the great thing.  The minute it crops up, all our hardnesses yield, all our irritations and resentments flit away.  ~ Mark Twain

We are all a little weird and, life is a little weird and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it LOVE.  ~ Dr. Seuss

Enjoying his son's track meet.

Even the Seattle Aquarium...visitors walking by replied, "Oh, how cute!"  

Strength

Strength can be measured in many different ways.  Some may believe the strongest person is the one who can lift the most weight (Paul Anderson, 6,270 pounds), run the fastest (Usain Bolt, 30mph) or hit the longest homerun (Jose Canseco, 540 feet).  Even after a run, my husband feels that I am the strongest (smelling, that is).  For me, strength cannot be measured in pounds, speed or distance.   Strength not only comes from within but is reinforced through the tenacity of others. 

Before displaying any symptoms of lymphoma, I would regularly perform frontal and side plank exercises, holding the plank on my front for 2 minutes and more than a minute on each side.  When the cough, fever and fatigue started, I felt weaker but could still maintain the plank position for more than a minute.  At the beginning of chemotherapy treatments, I was able to maintain the 1 minute planks and sometimes go even longer, especially after the cough and fevers subsided.  Now, however, the cumulative effects of chemo on my energy and muscle strength has weakened me significantly.  During the week following infusion, it only takes 10 seconds in the plank position before crumpling to the ground.  Opening jars or bottle tops, cracking ice cubes from the tray, and holding a pan or pitcher of water (even with both hands) has become increasingly difficult, requiring aid from my husband or son.  My running race pace is a full minute/mile slower than last year and stopping to rest or walk is a frequent occurrence on my morning “runs”.  But, in so many ways, I feel stronger than ever. 

For many years, my running was my barometer for personal strength.  My GPS watch carefully logged my weekly mileage and mile pace, so that I could reassure myself that I was maintaining my strength and “youth”.  Through age 45, I happily maintained the same mileage pace for a marathon as I did when I ran my first marathon at age 30 (8 minutes/mile or about a 3.5 hour marathon).  Running was my method of regaining stamina and losing weight after pregnancies.  It has always been reliable and a source of energy, strength and relaxation.   While I struggle more to lift my knees so that my foot clears the sidewalk or drive that one step further, I still find comfort in the ability to be able to pray, think and admire the abundant beauty surrounding us, while “running”.  Yet, the greatest strength still cannot be measured in miles.

Travelling this journey, I’ve realized that it isn’t my strength propelling me forward with a positive outlook and joyfulness.  Truly, I cannot lay claim to the strength that God has provided.   It has been through the tremendous community, friends and family that encompass me, like a net tightly woven together, to lift me and hold me when I feel weakest.  Although the journey is long and tiresome, there are many who have remained by my side throughout, lifting me up with their encouraging words, prayers, thoughts and gifts.  To my dismay, I suspect that I would have abandoned ship long before this, and so these people are much stronger and more faithful than I.   Rather than dwell on my shortcomings, however, I’d like to think that it’s a lesson learned to hopefully improve upon, for the future.   My realization of my need to be further engaged and encouraging to friends, family and community is one of the greatest lessons learned through this expedition. 

I find myself admiring the everyday heroes more and more.  The beauty of social media and the internet is that you don’t have to rely on news networks to provide information, since much of what the news chooses to report is negative.  If you look around, you will hear of people “paying it forward” or making the most of a terrible situation.  On my community web page, I have heard several stories about families having a dinner paid for by an anonymous person and many times it was for a family barely making ends meet, but trying to provide something special for their child’s birthday.   There is the community fundraiser to support a family whose child was blinded by a brain tumor and many more beautiful examples of love and strength.  These are the bonds that strengthen.  Together, we can provide a foundation that no terrorist can break.  If we can avow to perform one encouraging, uplifting or simple act of love daily, we will strengthen not only ourselves, but the community and world in which we live. 

You have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars and change the world.  ~ Harriet Tubman

Infusion #9 – A very long day

8:30 am – My earliest appointment at SCCA yet, which means no time for a morning run and we couldn’t take the HOV lane today.  As typical, I had my blood drawn first and 30 minutes later was brought back to see the doctor.  Unfortunately, I’ve been experiencing right hand swelling (see picture below) and arm pain for nearly 2 weeks (the swelling started the day before my last infusion, but the pain started 3 days later).  With that and my delayed hypersensitivity reaction to Bleomycin, causing abdominal pain and fever/chills, we had a lot to talk about and changes to make to the game plan.  Additionally, my ANC (absolute neutrophil count) was only 200 (the lowest Ievel I’ve experienced; normal level is 2,100-7,000).  Despite our original conversations (back in January) of not proceeding with chemo when my ANC dove below 250, my Monocytes were very active which shows that the marrow is working well, so we elected to proceed with today’s infusion, acknowledging that I would need to be extra diligent with monitoring temperatures and avoiding illness.  Many people have asked about using GCSF (a bone marrow stimulant) to help promote the return of my white cell count, but the reason we don’t utilize it, is because it vastly increases the risk of lung toxicity when administered with Bleomycin, something I can’t risk as it is often permanent. 

Given my Bleomycin reaction was not pulmonary related and the sensitivity reactions can usually be managed with Benadryl (diphenhydramine), Tylenol (acetaminophen) and Zantac (ranitidine), we added these 3 meds to my premedication routine.  This, of course, extended my time with the doctor and prolonged my infusion (since it’s up to 9 intravenous medications now and the pharmacist needed to prepare the new ones).   We started infusion around 10:30 and ended at 1:30.  But, wait, there’s more.  My arm swelling and pain still required addressing.  The differential diagnoses most likely for this problem is either a blood clot (DVT) or a port issue, since it’s only in the arm/hand on the side of my port.  An appointment was made for an ultrasound at 2, with check-in at 1:45, which meant we had 10 minutes to grab some lunch at the cafeteria.  Fortunately, because of the late hour, lines were fairly nonexistent and I obtained my Thai Mango salad and Chris a pepper steak stir fry with 5 minutes to spare.  We took our lunch up to the Diagnostic Image waiting room and ate while waiting. 

The good news:  I didn’t have a DVT and thus would not have to worry about being on anticoagulation for the remainder of my treatment and beyond.  Unfortunately, the alternative is a problem with my port, requiring removal of it.  Going under the knife and having a PICC (peripherally inserted central catheter) line introduced into my other arm somewhat disheartens me, as I fear that it may cause swelling in my other arm too.  On the flipside, the port is a constant irritant and still quite tender, making sleep difficult at times.  Yet, the PICC line will be along my inner arm and dangling into my elbow region which may be irritating with running and sleep as well.  But, I can do anything for a couple of months.  Yet, I elected to give it another week to see if it resolves or may be related to my fall on the treadmill or lifting bags out of the car.

After the ultrasound, it was back to the doctor to discuss the plan and we finally returned home a little after 4 pm.  With Benadryl on board, my eyes were heavy and I craved sleep.  Coming home to packages on the doorstep, kept me from falling asleep.  One package was a photobook that took me the last 3 months to complete (from our summer 2015 travels).   The other one was from a neighbor and friend and consisted of a cooler filled with ice packs, whipped cream and berries (blackberries and raspberries) along with an angel food cake and some yellow tulips.  That simple, loving gesture not only removed any worries and distress from the day, it lifted my spirits and I tossed out the idea of a nap and watered my plants and grass outside to experience a little sunshine and fresh air.

Although it was a long day, Chris and I always make the most of our visits.  Yes, he may sleep during some of the time (he says it was the Benadryl that put him to sleep today…see below).  It gives us time to talk, plan, play games or even just catch up on our email or his phone games.  Emailing will be limited now that Benadryl is added to my regimen.  With eyes half open and the brain at 50% power, I can’t promise my email responses will be intelligible.  So, if you don’t receive a response for some time, you’ll understand why.   That being said, I hope that the Benadryl is worn off enough to make this blog post coherent.  It certainly hasn’t lessened the steroid-induced insomnia.  That being said, I need to replenish my sleep to survive this busy weekend filled with a funeral and of course, Mother’s Day.  Happy Mother’s Day to all my beautiful, motherly friends! 

If you can’t fly, then run, if you can’t run, then walk, if you can’t walk, then crawl, but whatever you do, you have to keep moving forward.  ~ Martin Luther King, Jr. 

Difficult to see, but my right hand is so puffy that I can't completely make a grip. 

 

A long day for Chris...the Benadryl made him very sleepy.  The mutterings he made were very entertaining to my infusion nurse, Kim.