Week Two (Part A): Another Dose of Chemo ... And "It's A Boy!" ...

Needless to say, getting chemo over the last two Monday's is now just a vague memory! Yes, Rigo and I just found out yesterday that our little blessing of a baby BOY is baking just fine (a healthy 7 oz. with a strong 155 beats per minute heart rate)! Hehehehehe ... that is the only emotion we shared together all day yesterday. I knew going into the pregnancy I was going to find out the sex, but once I knew I had cancer, I NEEDED to know what I was having. The stress of this ordeal (even though I am every bit confident baby and I will prevail over this nasty disease) just picks at you ... everyday, all day. When you wake up ... you remember, I have cancer, during my daily walks ... you remember, I have cancer, showers ... oh, you really remember you have cancer, tv ... I can barely watch (aside from my daily dose of CNN) because I really remember I have cancer, and trying to sleep at night, it's terrible ... you remember, I have cancer. (Hence, the 4am blog ... maybe I can start being productive during this hour.)

I have cancer, sure ... but cancer does not have my BABY BOY and me! Today was the first day that I didn't think about cancer. Today was the first day I spent the day confident that our baby boy is a strong baby who can handle chemo like a champ! I loved today ... each second of today ... and that makes me look forward to tomorrow and each and day after that ... most of all, I look forward to the day we can both hold our baby boy in our arms! Oh, today I am so very hopeful for tomorrow!

So, I gushed ... most of you know pretty well that I am an a-emotional type of woman. I made it through the movie Notebook and didn't bat an eyelash. I have a "handle" on my emotions and try not to let things get to me ... but this baby thing, ahhh ... I am going to just embrace it and run with it from here on out! It is like overnight I immediately became a member of two sisterhoods without every truly imagining the magnitude of either (I am gushing again) ... motherhood and my sisterhood of those that have traveled the journey of breast cancer before me. I am such a rookie when it comes to both sisterhoods, but I am so very proud to be a part of such strong, brave and courageous women ... mothers and survivors, and that small special group of survivors who were pregnant ... I am hopeful. (Done gushing.)

Monday was the second week of my first "cycle" of chemotherapy. During week one, I receive three drugs ... for those survivors and their families who are familiar with chemo, I am getting 5-FU, Adromyician and Cytoxin (among many, many anti-nausea drugs ... thank you doc). During week two of the cycle, I receive only one drug, 5-FU. During week three of the cycle (next week), I have a freebie week ... no chemo. So this Monday, I had 5-FU. Rigo and I had our exam with Dr. Perkins, which is always reassuring even if no new information is given to us. It is like our stragetic-planning meeting ... preparing for battle ... take care of any repositioning of the troops if we need to ... meeting of the minds (okay, I was just getting caught up).

Following the exam, I enter "The Room." The room where the chemotherapy is administered is so very intimidating ... it should be referred to as something found in the basement of a mob house or something?! Actually, The Room couldn't be anymore asthetically pleasing with their leather recliners, plasma tv's, complimentary snacks and coffee and, yes ... foot massages. It is just something about the number of people that have surrendered themselves to this type of grueling treatment on a regular basis ... the rookies like me have our hair still. But the majority of patients come donned in their hats or scarves. Granted the average age in The Room is well over 60 (and I know there is nothing wrong with that age ... take it from me, I look forward to being 60). That in of itself probably makes The Room more intimidating ... you know, that I don't "fit" in.

In a strange way, I was looking forward to seeing my nurse from last week, Sydnee. Sydnee is a young and vibrant woman who has been an oncology nurse for the last 5 years with Dr. Perkins. Her straight-to-the-point attitude is comforting in some way. I appreciate that we are near the same age, probably have the same interests, and I listen to hear advice with a close ear. She was right last week ... the fourth day was my most difficult. What else will she be right about? I do not have any reason to believe she has ever had cancer before, but by default, I can tell she is a survivor. Working with so many of us patients, remembering so many names and faces, having so many relationships, holding our hands and making us laugh as poison is dripping into us cannot be an easy task. But Sydnee does this gracefully and with ease. We will be friends. You know, you can just tell when you meet someone (Leslie). Well, she is one. She is a friend. (She doesn't know it yet and I am getting gushy again ... weird.) One among many that I am sure to meet along this journey.

The actual administering of the chemo was super short, only about 10 minutes because it was only 5-FU I was getting. I got a few bags of water to help wash the chemo through my veins and re-hydrate myself and finito. As Katie, a survivor and a friend, told me as I was going into this week, I was one cycle of chemo closer to the end! Here we come ... baby boy and I!