Tag: #lifer (Page 3 of 6)

“What is your pain on a scale of 1-10?” the nurse asked.

I answered……. “15”

That was the moment my husband began to fully comprehend what was happening. He knew I was in pain, and had been in pain for several months. But pain was not something I have ever been able to assign a number to.

The nurse found a new gear when I said my pain level was 15. She finished what she was doing as quickly as possible, consulted with the doctor, and ran off to set up an IV drip of morphine for me. I was wheeled down to the infusion room to get the morphine drip, tears still randomly streaming down my cheeks. They wanted to get my pain under control so I could go downstairs to the radiation oncologist and get fitted for my radiation pillow.

In order to get the proper position for the radiation, a pillow is molded to hold me in the same position for every treatment. They use a CT scan to know where the radiation will be targeted and how to best ‘arrange me’ to make the molded pillow. I admit, I almost laughed when they asked me to “hop up on the table.” Obviously, there was no hopping that was going to be done. I remember staring at the table wondering how I would get out of the wheelchair and onto the flat, cold, hard table they wanted me to lie on.  The morphine had not been enough. I think my husband actually heard my screams in the waiting room.

After a few attempts, they eventually got me situated enough to get the scans and make the pillow. Then they told me I could get back in the wheelchair. Another laugh, another scream, another 10 minutes trying to figure out how to make that transition.

We met with the radiation oncologist after the scan/pillow episode. This was the first time we actually saw the scans. I don’t have any medical background, but my husband has a degree in kinesiology. As the doctor was talking, I was watching my husband’s reaction more than looking at the scans.

My husband’s face told me more than the words the doctor was speaking.

Without going into an anatomy lesson, the best description is the bone that holds the femur in place was no longer there. It was gone, eaten, destroyed. It was no wonder my pain level was off the scale, my femur was just floating, there was no joint left.

According to the doctor, the radiation was going to help with the pain (THANK GOD, because the morphine was doing NOTHING). Onward, to radiation!!!

It was October 2010. Almost 7 years since I was first diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I had resumed a normal life. Cancer was behind me.

No. It wasn’t.

Cancer was here for the long haul. It was here to stay.

The next few days were a blur.  The timeline is a little hazy, but generally I remember thinking I don’t like October.

Which came first, the phone call, the doctor’s visit or the biopsy? I don’t know. During those first few days I did have a bone biopsy performed and I had visits with my oncologist and the radiation oncologist.

I do remember getting a phone call from the oncologist. The date I remember.

Friday, October 8, 2010.

It was exactly 7 years from the date of my first biopsy.

I was at work (still using the crutches, which is important in trying to remember the timing). I stepped outside to take the call. They told me I had cancer AGAIN. Through my tears, I called my husband and asked him to come get me. He came and picked me up and we just drove around for a while. Was it that same day or another, I can’t remember, when we went to pick up our girls from school to tell them the cancer was back.

The most important thing  I learned during this time is it is not fun to find out you have an allergy to a pain medication right after you had a bone biopsy on your hip. Not being able to walk and needing to get to the bathroom quickly did not go so well. Thankfully, it was a pain patch and I was able to rip it off to limit the side effects.

We were headed to the oncologist, for another appointment, and the crutches slipped out from under me going out the door. Screaming and crying I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it to the car 10 yards away from me. In fact, my husband almost called and cancelled the appointment. Somehow, he managed to get me to the car and we got to the doctor’s office. Once in the waiting room, one of the nurses got me a wheelchair.

In the time period of about one week, I went from walking, to using crutches, to sitting in a wheelchair. What in the world was happening? We were about to find out just what cancer had done to my body.

Did I mention that I REALLY don’t like October?