How Superstitious are You?

Today is another Friday the 13th. Last time I can remember a Friday the 13th making an impression in my memory is when I had my port placed. We all know how that turned out!

So, as of right now, I do not have any plans for any big appointments or events. I think it might be a good day to lay low going into a holiday weekend. For all of you out there wondering what That Little Girl thinks of President’s Day, she misheard me the first time we talked about it and asked what she was getting for Presents Day.

I can’t say I worry about black cats, breaking mirrors, or walking under ladders. I don’t go out of my way to do any of that either! I check to see if any suspected black cats in my path have any patches of white just for peace of mind. At Christmas time I did buy an extra piece of chocolate when the total was six dollars and sixty-six cents. When the woman gave me the total I was like, oh no, I need to buy another thing. She said to me, I usually tell people when that is their total, but you didn’t look like you would be concerned. What exactly do I look like then? And what does someone who does care look like? Apparently she has given this some thought and I’m curious now.

Do you worry about Friday the 13th when it comes around?

Outta There!

When I last updated my treatment story, I wrote about having my port removed after nearly a week in the hospital being treated for SVC Syndrome and various blood clots. Here we are at day eight of my hospital stay and I wake up to find out that my “numbers” that measure the clotting of my blood were way out of range. So very far out, that they shut off my heparin for a few hours. Um, yeah, so remember that port out one day, go home plan? It didn’t happen.

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Don’t worry, we are nearing the end of the story of my SVC syndrome from blood clots and the related hospital stay! If you will, come back to early fall when I was in the hospital trying desperately to get home to my girls again (you can see the previous posts here under Detour – SVC Syndrome).

We are now at the seventh day of my stay and I awoke anxious, ready to have my port taken out. During the morning, the doctors came around and I found out that if I had the procedure done that day, I could go home the next day (spoiler, doctors are not always right). If Interventional Radiology couldn’t get it done that day, I would be scheduled for the next day and go home the following. This had me concerned since we were headed into a weekend and it seems pretty obvious that much of the hospital would be operating on a limited type staffing through a weekend and, rightfully so, working on emergency patients first. With how quickly they had been able to get my care started when I arrived the week prior on a weekend, I don’t have a problem with that. Once the port was removed, they would need to get my Heparin (short term blood thinner I had through IV) numbers back to level, then switch me over to Lovenox (more long term blood thinner injected). My activity was to be limited once I was home. The original plan was to take it easy for 10 days with lots of rest and only going to doctor appointments. I was not to be left alone with my girls or drive anyone anywhere for the same time, until I was seen.

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So Many Questions

This middle part of the week, as I continued to deflate, there were still a lot of questions. I was still stuck in bed. I was dizzy on and off. The left side of my face felt weird, including my eye, which is nerve wracking of course. No one had come to a consensus of whether I should be moving my legs around while I was in bed to prevent clots or if that would dislodge the clots I had.

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All Puffed Up

So here we are, day two in the hospital, after a sleepless night and quite a day that led us here. That Guy was with me, my dad still hadn’t seen me so he came up at some point that morning. The doctors came around doing rounds. When I awoke, my arms and hands were even puffier than before! It seemed like this day brought even more questions than answers, which was very frustrating.

I was still very out of it. Some might say I always am, so just imagine how I was even worse. I was not allowed to eat solid food we found out and was not allowed to eat anything until after my IR check that day. Someone had allowed me to have dinner the night before, whoops! And that kind of sums up how everything went that day.

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Error In My Favor

Once I was back in a little private triage room, which in reality was a hallway where there was a little staff room if I remember correctly, I remember feeling really puffy. I started taking off my rings. Then my necklace. Then my bracelet. And then my wig. The gentleman who had gotten me the wheelchair was seriously the most calm person ever considering the circumstances. He got my mom a little bag to put everything in for me (Catch up with my trip to the ER starting here).

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Danger Danger

That Little Girl has a little diddy she likes to sing. It goes something like this, “Danger! Danger! Choking Hazard. Choking Hazard. Danger! Danger! Choking Hazard. Choking Hazard….” It started a little bit after That Baby was born and there was a particular toy she wanted. We tried to explain all the small parts were dangerous to not just her but also her baby sister. We agreed to buy it if she kept it all out of her mouth, something we are still working on. So now she calls all similar toys, “choking hazard Tinkerbell” or “choking hazard such and such” when talking about them. Well, the next part of the story is about me and the day I felt like I was in danger and well, like someone was choking me. Don’t worry, they weren’t.

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One Last Hoop

So the results were in and it was time to prepare for treatment. My treatment plan first called for A-C every three weeks for four cycles. The A is for adriamycin and the C is Cytoxan. After those four cycles, the plan called for four more three week cycles including Herceptin, Perjeta, and weekly Taxol. When they told me the plan, they had let me know that I would also need to have a port placed in my chest. I was freaked out by this for a number of reasons. I asked what other options there were. I was told there were not any. So it was really the last step to prepare to start chemo the next week to have it placed.

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