"Everyday" I agreed to the chemo. I had a medi port (A device under the skin so the IV's would be easier to insert)put in near my collar bone. I have a phobia about needles, IV's, blood being drawn... Then began the controlled poisoning. The drugs were carboplatinum and taxol. I am not sure I have spelled them correctly. Every three weeks for 6 treatments. 5 months of hell. The tiredness was unbearable. I think that got to me the most. The desire to even get up wasn't there anymore. After the third treatment I wanted to give up. I would wake up, sit in the rocking chair, and then all of a sudden it was night. The day had passed me by. I wasn't living. I wanted to just quit. Always the third day after the chemo was the worse. SICK SICK SICK....
June 30, 2001
I lost all my hair before the second dose of chemo. No hair, no eyebrows not even any hair in my nose. That was terrible, if you stop and think about it. My head didn't really bother me but I would be talking and water would just roll out of my nose. That was terrible, even now thinking back I can see the humor but I hated that the most.
I have to tell you - - I was still smoking. I was embaressed, ashamed of myself. But I couldn't quit. I was addicted. I kept smoking. Before chemo, after chemo, I laid awake and smoked. That little white, paper wrapped tobacco that was probably the reason for the cancer was too difficult for me to just give up. So, I started only taking a puff and putting it out. I would sneak a puff whenever I could....but never would I smoke the whole cigarette...It took me almost a year to quit.
After the last chemo treatment, I went in for a PET scan. This would show if the cancer had spread to anywhere else. The oncologist wasn't so enthusiastic about surgery but the surgeon felt we should operate. The tumor was now the size of a nut when it had been the size of a softball. He would try to only remove half the lung. The pulmonary stress test I had put me on the borderline of pulmonary function. Without the surgery, cancer cells could still be alive and spread.. September 21, 2001, surgery.....
It was only 10 days after the terrorist attacks. I already felt stressed. I cried and cried. Going to the hospital, the sadness was overwhelming in me. I believe, I was depressed already because of the way I looked and I felt worn out- so I just cried. I had told my husband that I didn't want to see him crying because it would have been too much for me to bear. He was my strength, my rock, my voice of reason. He had sat with me through every chemo, been with me when I had bottomed out and chemo had to stop till the nurse stabilized me. He had sat with me in the bathroom as I withered with pain and discomfort begging for it to stop. He had prayed for me to find comfort and peace. I would make it...
The surgery was suppose to take 4-5 hours. The tumor had calcified. It would take 10 hrs. My right lung, number 4 rib and part of the chest wall had to be removed. It is hard to put into words what it felt like waking up from that. There was an epideral in my back to help control the pain ( but I was still in pain). I had monitors all over. The four days in ICU are mostly a blur. I remember the pain. I remember praying. Oh God. I remember the anguished look on my husbands face. I know he would have taken my place if he could have but since he couldn't his prayers and words of comfort echoed in my ears...
I was released after 7 days. I came home with with an oxygen mask on and attached to a 50ft tube. My poor little grandson would tiptoe around so as to not step on the oxygen tubing. I was not able to do much of anything. Yes, I was very depressed even though the surgeon felt he had gotten ALL the cancer...I did not have my life back. Everything was totally different....
This is a goodtime to let you know about "my friends online". Before I became ill I would get online to play yahoo spades. I had a regular partner "rackncolor" and his wife "lotz_of_spotz". We had played everyday for about 2 years but had not talked on the phone until after my diagnosis. They decided to come up to Virginia for a visit!
 my husband, daughter and grandson |  Tanner-man |
 lotz_of_spotz and me |  rackncolor |
I had a great support group. My husband took care of me. My daughter took over my business and the running of the house. My in-laws keep me fed. Both of them in their eighties managed to fix meals almost everyday. My sisters all came to help out especially one sister....Cindy and her daughters. I also have a great uncle who helped my mind stay in the fight...Uncle Marvon. He is a little more in touch with our Native history and his e-mails were very uplifting. He didn't let me forget that I could survive. But on those dark dark nights when the doubts would creep in my friends online were there. Rackncolor and I played almost 5,000 games of spades. It's funny because rack could not "chat" with me. He had arthritis in his fingers so typing was very difficult for him, but he stayed up and clicked with his mouse on the cards and whenever I asked if he wanted to play one more......he never said no. I don't know how his wife put up with it!!
On March 16, 2005, I recieved a phone call from lotz_of_spotz. Bad news. My spades partner had passed away. Sweet dreams p.
Time has flown by for me. I was in chronic pain. It was on the left side of my chest where the portion of rib had been removed. Nothing helped. Vicodin, oxycontin nothing. I went into a deep depression. Cried all the time. I had two nerve blocks done (06 and 09-2002) but the pain continues to this day. I tried anti-depressents. Therapy. I look back on that "DARK" time and it overwhelms me. My grandmother would have said that the indian in me took over. I decided I could not live like that anymore. I did not want to live like that. I stopped it all. No more medication. No more complaining. No more crying. I would only say positive things. Surround myself with positive people. Eat healthy food. Get rest even if I could not sleep I would close my eyes and rest. I wanted to live. You know, that is not the right word. I should say that I decided to fight. Instead of relying on Doc.'s I would listen to my body and do what I thought was right.
I hated the fact that my life had changed. It had changed without my consent. I could not vaccuum. I could not walk very far. I sure could not run or play ball with my grandson. I had to accept the fact that there were just some things I could not do. But you know what? It was ok. I could still do alot and it sure beat the alternative. I could cook, I could still take care of my garden ( I have to sit down to weed because it takes my breath away), I still read stories and play cards with my grandson. Every Friday he comes to stay with me. He calls it " Fun Friday" because he says we always have fun. I was still here and I loved my husband and daughter and son and grandkids.