http://chemo-brain.blogspot.com/2012/02/you-know-you-have-chemobrain-if.html?spref=tw
Yep. What she said.
Showing posts with label chemo-brain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chemo-brain. Show all posts
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Positive Improvements
It really pays to have rock awesome doctors.
Let me backtrack a little here....
Earlier this summer, I had to have a regular check up with my surgeon. The checkup went fine, but that day had been a particularly bad, emotional, depressed day for me. I was totally out of sorts. Insanely so.
In the office, my blood pressure was sky high, higher than it has ever, ever been. Scary high. Crazy high. I never have problems with high blood pressure, so that was odd. I'd totally lost it on The Eldest on the drive up to the appointment over something totally stupid. I was weepy. It was crazy.
Near the end of my appointment on this particularly, spectacularly bad day, I was crying about how horribly I was functioning. How confused I always was. How fuzzy my brain was. How I could hardly read.
Dr. The Cutter immediately knew what I needed. I needed to go see her friend, a psychologist, who treats people with chemo brain. I really think she thought I was losing it, because--being the rock awesome doctor she is--she called him right there, left him a message when he didn't answer, and called to follow up with me a few times in the days following.
I've not had a day that bad since (maybe not before, either), and I tracked it down to an increase in my Ambien dosage. Therefore, I should never have that problem again, but it sure was scary.
Since I didn't feel so fragile once I stopped taking Ambien, I put off calling the chemo brain doctor as I was thinking of him. Yet, eventually, I did get around to it. And I am so happy that I did. It has changed my life more than I could have imagined, and I foresee more changes in the future.
For starters, when I finally did get around to calling him, he remembered who I was--and what Doctor the Cutter had said about my mental state on the day she last saw me. He immediately agreed to set up an appointment with me and deal directly with my insurance company because one reason I hadn't called sooner was the "deer in the headlights" position I find myself in whenever I have to do such things as call insurance company or sort out such details.
So, one day in July, I met the Magic Man of Maumee as I've come to think of him. We had a chat. I detailed all of my chemo brain problems and frustrations, how my life was falling apart.
It's hard to even put it into words....for starters, I was having incredibly hard times finding words, most notably nouns, even common every day words.
Here's an example: my sons' names. Sure, like everyone, I tend to call child A by child B's name. I've always done that. But for the last year or so, I can be staring right at a child and not be able to retrieve the name. I'd just stare blankly. There were other, more disturbing things. Like not being able to remember what I was doing while I was doing it. Not being able to follow along in meetings. Not being able to read a student essay without losing track of what I was doing. Forgetting in the middle of writing a comment on said student's essay what it was I was commenting upon. Being nearly totally incapable of basic math. Having a hard time reading fiction. A general lack of critical thinking and analytical ability. Much worse spelling, which has never been a strong suite for me, than normal.
And then there was my inability to remember what I needed to do, to carry through with what I should do, to complete what I started, to start. I'd find myself frozen with anxiety, unable to start things: housework, grading, planning, phone calls.
I was perseverating on certain topics, to the point that I was losing sleep.
I was depressed.
I could barely do my job. Teaching was hugely, hugely stressful for me. I'd lost my pizzazz. I could barely do what I needed to do. I was constantly forgetting basics. For instance, I had to set an alarm on my phone to remind myself to take attendance! I wouldn't get prep work done in a timely manner. I felt as if I weren't making sense when I'd talk to my students individually.
I couldn't grocery shop and then figure out what meals to prepare. Food regularly rotted in the fridge because I'd forget I'd made it in the case of left overs, or I'd forget to repackage and freeze it in the case of buying large quantities of chicken quarters several times, or I'd forget to prepare what I'd bought.
We have eaten so much pizza in the last year......gag.
I couldn't retell simple movies that I'd just seen. Heck, I could hardly watch a movie and follow along.
I'd get confused really easily. I couldn't remember strings of numbers, even saying them out loud.
In general, I felt really stupid and incapable and everything was so damn hard. So, so, so hard. My quality of life was certainly diminished.
So the Magic Man of Maumee and I talked. I explained. I described. I detailed. The Magic Man explained what science and research has shown about the brains of those who have such complaints after chemo. It's not everyone who has such changes, although women--especially--who are required to multi-task tend to find the changes most disturbing. Women in a certain age range tend to find them more obvious and to bounce back less quickly than other women. I tend to fall into all of the "risk" categories, including one of the biggest for significant negative change: having ADHD.
For years, I'd suspected that I had ADHD. I started wondering when my one son was diagnosed with pretty extreme ADHD. I then had a student who did a fairly extensive research essay about girls with ADHD, and, in doing her research, she got tested and was diagnosed, began treatment, and her life improved greatly.
Yet, I couldn't get my life together enough to do anything about my suspicions...which is very typical of a person with ADHD.
So, the Magic Man gave me some tests. I aced 'em. He had my husband and one other person who would rather go nameless fill out some questionnaires. I "aced" those, too. If there is such a thing as "off the charts" in the area of non-attentive ADHD, it would be me.
The Magic Man's assumption is that I've always had ADHD but to a lesser degree, and that I'd been more or less able to cope, until doing two protocols of chemo aged me by 20 years and shrank my frontal cortex (I think that's what he said).
Anyway, it all made sense when he was explaining it.
He then gave me a bunch of other tests to rule out anxiety and depression and mood disorders and other, more serious, problems. Indeed, they were ruled out for the most part. At least the biggie, mood disorder, was ruled out. Many people with ADHD also exhibit signs of anxiety and depression, as do cancer endurers....so there were some blips on those tests, but nothing too significant.
After meeting three or four times, the Magic Man made a recommendation for some medication, which I started taking in August, and I've continued to see him for talk work and ADHD coaching.
The change has been phenomenal. Life certainly isn't perfect, but I'm able to participate again. I'm still overwhelmed by things with a lot of details. But for the first time in a long time, I feel engaged in the world. I'm not just going through actions in a daze.
I'm as on top of things as I've ever been since having children, I think. For example, I graded four sets of essays in three days last week without even noticing that I was doing it. Reading and commenting on them was easy, and it wasn't at the last minute. I *see* the flow of pedagogy in my classes for the first time in two years. I can plan things and execute them. I can be engaged in meetings. I feel much more alert (and don't go thinking it's because I'm taking speed or something for the adhd, because I'm taking a non-stimulant med).
Best is that for the first time in my LIFE, I can see how to work with my limitations and make life work. A huge part of that is the "coaching" the Magic Man is doing with me, helping me to think differently about time, helping me to work with instead of against my neurology. In a lot of ways, life is becoming the "easy" way I always saw it for so many others.
And this all reminds me of the first day my one son took his first pill for his ADHD--and trust me, I was loathe to the core to "resort" to meds with him--and he came to me and said, "Does everyone see the world so clearly? Why didn't you give me that sooner?"
I can still tell that my brain isn't what it once was. I still struggle for words. Writing is hard. Organizing my thoughts is hard. I certainly don't have the IQ I once had. I've been with my students for 4 weeks now and I'm still struggling to recognize them all and remember their names, but I'm way, way better off than I was at this point last year.
I still struggle to read, but I'm not struggling with student essays. And I am able to finish novels now. I can follow movies better. I'm sleeping better. I'm not fixating on negative thoughts so much. I'm much better able to organize the family.
Meals and shopping are still a struggle, and I'll be working on that area in October. Meanwhile, I've to a flow to my days, a flow that is intentional. I don't feel so overwhelmed by getting out of bed in the morning. I've been able to add activities to my schedule.
All in all, it's been a good thing, and the Magic Man thinks that at some point, I'll be able to stop taking the med. We'll discuss that in 12 months. I think I'll also be doing some brain training to try to get back some of the intelligence that I've lost.
Two days ago, I saw my onco, and we were discussing this. She clearly believes in chemo brain and the havoc it wreaks in our lives. She was very happy to learn that my quality of life has improved. And later that night, she called me to let me know that another woman had been in to see her with similar complaints, would I call this woman and give her the Magic Man's info? Duh. Of course.
Let me backtrack a little here....
Earlier this summer, I had to have a regular check up with my surgeon. The checkup went fine, but that day had been a particularly bad, emotional, depressed day for me. I was totally out of sorts. Insanely so.
In the office, my blood pressure was sky high, higher than it has ever, ever been. Scary high. Crazy high. I never have problems with high blood pressure, so that was odd. I'd totally lost it on The Eldest on the drive up to the appointment over something totally stupid. I was weepy. It was crazy.
Near the end of my appointment on this particularly, spectacularly bad day, I was crying about how horribly I was functioning. How confused I always was. How fuzzy my brain was. How I could hardly read.
Dr. The Cutter immediately knew what I needed. I needed to go see her friend, a psychologist, who treats people with chemo brain. I really think she thought I was losing it, because--being the rock awesome doctor she is--she called him right there, left him a message when he didn't answer, and called to follow up with me a few times in the days following.
I've not had a day that bad since (maybe not before, either), and I tracked it down to an increase in my Ambien dosage. Therefore, I should never have that problem again, but it sure was scary.
Since I didn't feel so fragile once I stopped taking Ambien, I put off calling the chemo brain doctor as I was thinking of him. Yet, eventually, I did get around to it. And I am so happy that I did. It has changed my life more than I could have imagined, and I foresee more changes in the future.
For starters, when I finally did get around to calling him, he remembered who I was--and what Doctor the Cutter had said about my mental state on the day she last saw me. He immediately agreed to set up an appointment with me and deal directly with my insurance company because one reason I hadn't called sooner was the "deer in the headlights" position I find myself in whenever I have to do such things as call insurance company or sort out such details.
So, one day in July, I met the Magic Man of Maumee as I've come to think of him. We had a chat. I detailed all of my chemo brain problems and frustrations, how my life was falling apart.
It's hard to even put it into words....for starters, I was having incredibly hard times finding words, most notably nouns, even common every day words.
Here's an example: my sons' names. Sure, like everyone, I tend to call child A by child B's name. I've always done that. But for the last year or so, I can be staring right at a child and not be able to retrieve the name. I'd just stare blankly. There were other, more disturbing things. Like not being able to remember what I was doing while I was doing it. Not being able to follow along in meetings. Not being able to read a student essay without losing track of what I was doing. Forgetting in the middle of writing a comment on said student's essay what it was I was commenting upon. Being nearly totally incapable of basic math. Having a hard time reading fiction. A general lack of critical thinking and analytical ability. Much worse spelling, which has never been a strong suite for me, than normal.
And then there was my inability to remember what I needed to do, to carry through with what I should do, to complete what I started, to start. I'd find myself frozen with anxiety, unable to start things: housework, grading, planning, phone calls.
I was perseverating on certain topics, to the point that I was losing sleep.
I was depressed.
I could barely do my job. Teaching was hugely, hugely stressful for me. I'd lost my pizzazz. I could barely do what I needed to do. I was constantly forgetting basics. For instance, I had to set an alarm on my phone to remind myself to take attendance! I wouldn't get prep work done in a timely manner. I felt as if I weren't making sense when I'd talk to my students individually.
I couldn't grocery shop and then figure out what meals to prepare. Food regularly rotted in the fridge because I'd forget I'd made it in the case of left overs, or I'd forget to repackage and freeze it in the case of buying large quantities of chicken quarters several times, or I'd forget to prepare what I'd bought.
We have eaten so much pizza in the last year......gag.
I couldn't retell simple movies that I'd just seen. Heck, I could hardly watch a movie and follow along.
I'd get confused really easily. I couldn't remember strings of numbers, even saying them out loud.
In general, I felt really stupid and incapable and everything was so damn hard. So, so, so hard. My quality of life was certainly diminished.
So the Magic Man of Maumee and I talked. I explained. I described. I detailed. The Magic Man explained what science and research has shown about the brains of those who have such complaints after chemo. It's not everyone who has such changes, although women--especially--who are required to multi-task tend to find the changes most disturbing. Women in a certain age range tend to find them more obvious and to bounce back less quickly than other women. I tend to fall into all of the "risk" categories, including one of the biggest for significant negative change: having ADHD.
For years, I'd suspected that I had ADHD. I started wondering when my one son was diagnosed with pretty extreme ADHD. I then had a student who did a fairly extensive research essay about girls with ADHD, and, in doing her research, she got tested and was diagnosed, began treatment, and her life improved greatly.
Yet, I couldn't get my life together enough to do anything about my suspicions...which is very typical of a person with ADHD.
So, the Magic Man gave me some tests. I aced 'em. He had my husband and one other person who would rather go nameless fill out some questionnaires. I "aced" those, too. If there is such a thing as "off the charts" in the area of non-attentive ADHD, it would be me.
The Magic Man's assumption is that I've always had ADHD but to a lesser degree, and that I'd been more or less able to cope, until doing two protocols of chemo aged me by 20 years and shrank my frontal cortex (I think that's what he said).
Anyway, it all made sense when he was explaining it.
He then gave me a bunch of other tests to rule out anxiety and depression and mood disorders and other, more serious, problems. Indeed, they were ruled out for the most part. At least the biggie, mood disorder, was ruled out. Many people with ADHD also exhibit signs of anxiety and depression, as do cancer endurers....so there were some blips on those tests, but nothing too significant.
After meeting three or four times, the Magic Man made a recommendation for some medication, which I started taking in August, and I've continued to see him for talk work and ADHD coaching.
The change has been phenomenal. Life certainly isn't perfect, but I'm able to participate again. I'm still overwhelmed by things with a lot of details. But for the first time in a long time, I feel engaged in the world. I'm not just going through actions in a daze.
I'm as on top of things as I've ever been since having children, I think. For example, I graded four sets of essays in three days last week without even noticing that I was doing it. Reading and commenting on them was easy, and it wasn't at the last minute. I *see* the flow of pedagogy in my classes for the first time in two years. I can plan things and execute them. I can be engaged in meetings. I feel much more alert (and don't go thinking it's because I'm taking speed or something for the adhd, because I'm taking a non-stimulant med).
Best is that for the first time in my LIFE, I can see how to work with my limitations and make life work. A huge part of that is the "coaching" the Magic Man is doing with me, helping me to think differently about time, helping me to work with instead of against my neurology. In a lot of ways, life is becoming the "easy" way I always saw it for so many others.
And this all reminds me of the first day my one son took his first pill for his ADHD--and trust me, I was loathe to the core to "resort" to meds with him--and he came to me and said, "Does everyone see the world so clearly? Why didn't you give me that sooner?"
I can still tell that my brain isn't what it once was. I still struggle for words. Writing is hard. Organizing my thoughts is hard. I certainly don't have the IQ I once had. I've been with my students for 4 weeks now and I'm still struggling to recognize them all and remember their names, but I'm way, way better off than I was at this point last year.
I still struggle to read, but I'm not struggling with student essays. And I am able to finish novels now. I can follow movies better. I'm sleeping better. I'm not fixating on negative thoughts so much. I'm much better able to organize the family.
Meals and shopping are still a struggle, and I'll be working on that area in October. Meanwhile, I've to a flow to my days, a flow that is intentional. I don't feel so overwhelmed by getting out of bed in the morning. I've been able to add activities to my schedule.
All in all, it's been a good thing, and the Magic Man thinks that at some point, I'll be able to stop taking the med. We'll discuss that in 12 months. I think I'll also be doing some brain training to try to get back some of the intelligence that I've lost.
Two days ago, I saw my onco, and we were discussing this. She clearly believes in chemo brain and the havoc it wreaks in our lives. She was very happy to learn that my quality of life has improved. And later that night, she called me to let me know that another woman had been in to see her with similar complaints, would I call this woman and give her the Magic Man's info? Duh. Of course.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood
Wow. It has certainly been a long time since I've written anything. It's not that I don't think about blog posts. I have many good intentions; I have many ideas for posts and notes jotted down; however, I have moved my laptop from the couch to the table. This is both good and bad. It's good in that I'm less likely to get sucked into watching tv and hanging out online. It's bad in that I don't hang out watching tv and hanging out online. This change in location also means that I'm more apt to do "drive by updates" on facebook, but less likely to sit down long enough to compose something thoughtful. I've read enough blogs to realize that the self-indulgent, thoughtless blogger is worse than no blogger. Hence, my silence.
However, today was such a nice day that I'm compelled to share it with you. Actually, the day had nothing to do with me. It was a beautiful day for my youngest son, aka The Feral Third.
TFT has had a rough month or so. You see, his soccer team merged with a team from another club and there will now be enough kids to have two teams. Sadly, TFT did not make the A team. Even sadder, all of his buddies did make the A team. This has been very upsetting and devastating for him as you might imagine. No matter what spin we put on it, he knows that he is going to be playing weaker teams, in a weaker division, not going to tournaments, and will not have the prestigious coach. He also believes this marks the beginning of the end of his soccer career and he foresees playing JV in high school while his buddies all play varsity. Yes, we adults know he's waaaaay over analyzing this all, but reality is that he is over analyzing this and this is his life right now. He totally feels slighted, insulted, and demeaned.
Yes, we've all been there, done that and lived to tell the tale. He just has a lot of emotional energy to put into this tale these days (weeks? this has dragged on and on).
Anyway, to make what has been a miserable month shorter for the sake of the rest of you (no one else should have to live my misery and believe me, I've shared it enough already with others), he has felt overlooked by his friends who, being on the A team, do some sort of running club or something. He was invited once and didn't go because we got off to a slow start (no pun intended) that morning, but he clearly feels that if he were wanted there, he'd have been in on it from the beginning and then he found out that they also play soccer afterward and, again, he wasn't "in on it". He was an after thought.
Again, play me a violin....
So, that sets the stage. Probably 99% of all of this angst is in his imagination, but he's been bringing that imagination to life in our family's daily life for a month now.
Last night, though, things began to look up. Two of his mates spent the night and they never once talked about soccer. Thank the stars.
It was a total flash back to 2005 or so, when my eldest (hmmm....do I have a blog name for him? I might, but thanks to chemo brain, I can't remember) and his mates would get together. It was a mini-me of the current teenagers hanging out here at the same time.
On top of the emotional wanking that has been going on, we've also had lots of late nights and slow mornings for the past month. I was out of town for about 10 days, and my husband is an early to bed kind of guy, which meant that the kids were very, very late to bed. Those of you who still have enough control over your children to have bedtime, might be shocked to hear that an 11 year old was regularly going to bed at 2 a.m. or later and sleeping until noon, but that is a pattern we've fallen into. Add in a visit from the cousins which makes for a week with looser rules than usual, and...chaos regarding sleep hygiene.
So last night, I agreed to these other two boys spending the night in part to keep the hormonal Feral Third happy but also because I saw it as an opportunity to enforce a bedtime without an argument. Who wants to act like a toddler and throw a tantrum in front of their friends? The deal was OK to the sleepover if they agreed to lights out and a movie turned low at midnight.
It worked. I removed all the video game controllers so that they weren't tempted to cheat, told them if they'd lay still, they'd be cooler, and they were out.
This also meant then were awake fairly early this morning. I was reading and came out of my room at 8:45 and found all three of them awake. Awake and looking like the older boys they so admire. I have since begun referring to them as The Third Wave.
Now, back in the day, in 2005 or so, my eldest and his buddies would have some wild Risk games. They'd combine games, boards, pieces, and rules and play for entire weekends. There have also been many Risk games played at our home by many, many young boys in this town. It is also a tradition to play Risk with the cousins when they come to visit each year. It was very heart warming to see The Third Wave getting it on with World Domination with such glee.
Of course, you can't have boys in the house (even if they are on the patio) without feeding them. I was flashing back to the days when I would regularly stock up on cheap frozen pizzas, frozen burritos, jarred spaghetti sauce, and other food items in mass quantities because I never knew when I'd be called upon to provide food for the hungry hoards.
It's been awhile.
So a trip to the grocery was called for. Hoping that this will not be the last time we have a hoard of hungry boys, I stocked up.
Then I got to do what I love doing the most. Providing food for people I love.
However, today was such a nice day that I'm compelled to share it with you. Actually, the day had nothing to do with me. It was a beautiful day for my youngest son, aka The Feral Third.
TFT has had a rough month or so. You see, his soccer team merged with a team from another club and there will now be enough kids to have two teams. Sadly, TFT did not make the A team. Even sadder, all of his buddies did make the A team. This has been very upsetting and devastating for him as you might imagine. No matter what spin we put on it, he knows that he is going to be playing weaker teams, in a weaker division, not going to tournaments, and will not have the prestigious coach. He also believes this marks the beginning of the end of his soccer career and he foresees playing JV in high school while his buddies all play varsity. Yes, we adults know he's waaaaay over analyzing this all, but reality is that he is over analyzing this and this is his life right now. He totally feels slighted, insulted, and demeaned.
Yes, we've all been there, done that and lived to tell the tale. He just has a lot of emotional energy to put into this tale these days (weeks? this has dragged on and on).
Anyway, to make what has been a miserable month shorter for the sake of the rest of you (no one else should have to live my misery and believe me, I've shared it enough already with others), he has felt overlooked by his friends who, being on the A team, do some sort of running club or something. He was invited once and didn't go because we got off to a slow start (no pun intended) that morning, but he clearly feels that if he were wanted there, he'd have been in on it from the beginning and then he found out that they also play soccer afterward and, again, he wasn't "in on it". He was an after thought.
Again, play me a violin....
So, that sets the stage. Probably 99% of all of this angst is in his imagination, but he's been bringing that imagination to life in our family's daily life for a month now.
Last night, though, things began to look up. Two of his mates spent the night and they never once talked about soccer. Thank the stars.
It was a total flash back to 2005 or so, when my eldest (hmmm....do I have a blog name for him? I might, but thanks to chemo brain, I can't remember) and his mates would get together. It was a mini-me of the current teenagers hanging out here at the same time.
On top of the emotional wanking that has been going on, we've also had lots of late nights and slow mornings for the past month. I was out of town for about 10 days, and my husband is an early to bed kind of guy, which meant that the kids were very, very late to bed. Those of you who still have enough control over your children to have bedtime, might be shocked to hear that an 11 year old was regularly going to bed at 2 a.m. or later and sleeping until noon, but that is a pattern we've fallen into. Add in a visit from the cousins which makes for a week with looser rules than usual, and...chaos regarding sleep hygiene.
So last night, I agreed to these other two boys spending the night in part to keep the hormonal Feral Third happy but also because I saw it as an opportunity to enforce a bedtime without an argument. Who wants to act like a toddler and throw a tantrum in front of their friends? The deal was OK to the sleepover if they agreed to lights out and a movie turned low at midnight.
It worked. I removed all the video game controllers so that they weren't tempted to cheat, told them if they'd lay still, they'd be cooler, and they were out.
 |
| The Third Wave |
 |
| Sorting Game Pieces |
Now, back in the day, in 2005 or so, my eldest and his buddies would have some wild Risk games. They'd combine games, boards, pieces, and rules and play for entire weekends. There have also been many Risk games played at our home by many, many young boys in this town. It is also a tradition to play Risk with the cousins when they come to visit each year. It was very heart warming to see The Third Wave getting it on with World Domination with such glee.
Of course, you can't have boys in the house (even if they are on the patio) without feeding them. I was flashing back to the days when I would regularly stock up on cheap frozen pizzas, frozen burritos, jarred spaghetti sauce, and other food items in mass quantities because I never knew when I'd be called upon to provide food for the hungry hoards.
It's been awhile.
Then I got to do what I love doing the most. Providing food for people I love.
And these people were very appreciative!
The day continued without a hitch. It included a walk to Walgreen's, a game of volley ball and one of badminton. They then went to one of the other boys' homes for dinner, returned here, were playing something that involved yelling and running in the dark, and at 10 p.m., more than 24 hours after it started, the "sleep over" ended.
No fuss, no muss (they did have to be persuaded to clean up the family room, but they did a good job), no arguments, and only one injury (and that was in the last 15 minutes).
I know my member of the Third Wave was asleep early and easily tonight, and I hope he is feeling better about his predicament or at least had 24 hours of not stewing over how unfair life can be at times.
Yes, it can be, son, but it is still a wild and wonderful place and you might as well ride it hard while you can.
And I'm glad there are Risk players back in the house.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Tending to Everyday Basics
My chemo brain is pretty profound. Just dealing with the everyday basics of managing a family has become a real challenge. Therefore, I have to find a new way of doing what used to come easily and naturally. Dealing with with groceries and meals is the first order of business.
The planning and executing of meals is challenging in ways it has never been before. I don't think to make meals until too late in the day. Organizing and executing a frugal shopping trip is my undoing. It's the "connect the dots" part that is such a challenge. It's like I'm in a brain fog. I can open a cupboard, look in, see food items, and see no way that those ingredients can come together to make a dish. To complicate matters, I also am unable to recall what is in the fridge or freezer. Looking at the weekly sale fliers used to mean something. I could see what could become of sale and loss leader items. Not so much any more.
I can't really explain it any more clearly. It's almost like my head is stuffed with cotton balls. Nothing "clicks."
So, I have decided that I must simplify the shopping. I shall mostly shop at Aldi. Can't get lost or distracted there. Six aisles. They rarely change. No decisions as to what is the best buy. I can flesh out what I can't get at Aldi at some other store.
Since I struggle to plan meals, I think I'm going to go with meal types. I used to, just based on my whim, come up with meals for lunch and dinner (back in the days when people were home for lunch) and shop. Now I stare at a piece of paper and think, "I have no clue what to have on Monday, let alone on Tuesday and I can't think of anything to have....so how can I shop?"
Instead, I think if I were to know that I have to have a soup/stew meal, salad meal, casserole meal, etc...I should be able to look at sale fliers or the Aldi layout and figure out what to buy.
I hope.
So, what types of meals are out there? Here's what I've come up with off the top of my head today...what else can I toss into the rotation?
Soup/Stew
Sandwiches
Breakfast for Dinner
Pasta
Casserole
Pizza
Salad
Traditional (aka “grandma’s recipe box”)
“International” (aka pick an ethnicity)
Regional (aka pick a USA region)
The planning and executing of meals is challenging in ways it has never been before. I don't think to make meals until too late in the day. Organizing and executing a frugal shopping trip is my undoing. It's the "connect the dots" part that is such a challenge. It's like I'm in a brain fog. I can open a cupboard, look in, see food items, and see no way that those ingredients can come together to make a dish. To complicate matters, I also am unable to recall what is in the fridge or freezer. Looking at the weekly sale fliers used to mean something. I could see what could become of sale and loss leader items. Not so much any more.
I can't really explain it any more clearly. It's almost like my head is stuffed with cotton balls. Nothing "clicks."
So, I have decided that I must simplify the shopping. I shall mostly shop at Aldi. Can't get lost or distracted there. Six aisles. They rarely change. No decisions as to what is the best buy. I can flesh out what I can't get at Aldi at some other store.
Since I struggle to plan meals, I think I'm going to go with meal types. I used to, just based on my whim, come up with meals for lunch and dinner (back in the days when people were home for lunch) and shop. Now I stare at a piece of paper and think, "I have no clue what to have on Monday, let alone on Tuesday and I can't think of anything to have....so how can I shop?"
Instead, I think if I were to know that I have to have a soup/stew meal, salad meal, casserole meal, etc...I should be able to look at sale fliers or the Aldi layout and figure out what to buy.
I hope.
So, what types of meals are out there? Here's what I've come up with off the top of my head today...what else can I toss into the rotation?
Soup/Stew
Sandwiches
Breakfast for Dinner
Pasta
Casserole
Pizza
Salad
Traditional (aka “grandma’s recipe box”)
“International” (aka pick an ethnicity)
Regional (aka pick a USA region)
Friday, November 5, 2010
Reality Bites right now
I've been really frustrated by my limitations lately.
In general, I think I look pretty good, and that's what people have been telling me. All of my doctors think I'm doing really well. I'm in better physical condition than I have been in years.
Like a lot of survivors of any sort, I think I've reprioritized a lot in my life. It's not unusual for people who have survived car accidents, severe illnesses, house fires, the death of a loved one, or any number of traumatic incidents to "reprioritze" their lives. Or at least that is what I'm claiming.
In reality, though, it's easy to alter certain aspects of my life when I can't focus on more than one thing at a time, can't remember a lot of what I "need" to do, can't keep track of time, can't stay up late, can't multi-task, can't reason clearly, can't read anything intellectually challenging....Basically when I can't be who I used to be, that makes it really easy for me to "take time" for exercise. When I'm doing that, I don't think about what else I should be doing. It's the only time I feel focused.
Indeed, it is the only time I'm focused.
I do believe the longest, most severe lingering effect of cancer treatment has been to leave me with a raging, full blown case of adult attention deficit disorder.
I might even go so far as to use the adjective "debilitating."
I'm barely holding it together teaching this semester. Not only does it take me hours to accomplish the most basic of tasks, such as preparing lessons or evaluating essays, but I frequently forget to do what needs to be done. I've missed important deadlines, for instance the deadline for submitting my Family Medical Leave paperwork for the time I'll need to take off this semester. I can barely manage to plan meals and get groceries (OK, I'm incapable of doing this and we rarely have well rounded meals). I'm always forgetting something I need to do for work, such as grade papers or upload an assignment sheet, or even develop an assignment sheet. I've had huge chunks of missing information in assignments, and I've even managed to consistently forget to assign students basic work. Um, yes. I totally omitted teaching about transitional devices to my weak, first year writers. I'll cram that in next week.
I feel like I have the attention of a gold fish. Heck, since I have HUGE memory deficits, each day is like a new trip around the fish bowl.
When I add this to my vastly decreased processing speed, I've come to realize I'm vastly different than I was before.
In the last week or so, especially as I've been getting more and more frustrated while working with students--frustrations arising because I just can't help them troubleshoot the way I used to and I find myself getting confused while working with them--I realize that I'm not coping with these new realizations very well. Partly, I'm not coping because I'm tired of struggling to cope all the damn time. It's exhausting. Partly, I'm not coping because I'm no longer eating as well as I should be, for no reason other than I've simply stopped exerting the energy needed to plan food. For the first half of the semester, I was planning my (very simple) lunches in advance. Now, I'm just not. Partly, I'm not coping because I'm just not coping. I'm tired of coping.
And I have to admit, that tube of Pringles I just ate were damn good, even though I feel like crap right now.
Perhaps, along with ADHD, a lower IQ, and mental processing deficits, I'm depressed. Probably. I'll think about that. Later. If I remember. After I remember to go to my office and pick up the 60 essays dropped off there earlier today, which I'd forgotten about until just now. At 10:20 p.m. Hopefully, I'll remember to (a) exercise tomorrow morning, (b) pick up those papers, (c) grade them, (d) and to take Tynan to a movie tomorrow. If I'm lucky, I'll remember (e) that I even wrote this entry. Seriously, that's how bad it has gotten.
In general, I think I look pretty good, and that's what people have been telling me. All of my doctors think I'm doing really well. I'm in better physical condition than I have been in years.
Like a lot of survivors of any sort, I think I've reprioritized a lot in my life. It's not unusual for people who have survived car accidents, severe illnesses, house fires, the death of a loved one, or any number of traumatic incidents to "reprioritze" their lives. Or at least that is what I'm claiming.
In reality, though, it's easy to alter certain aspects of my life when I can't focus on more than one thing at a time, can't remember a lot of what I "need" to do, can't keep track of time, can't stay up late, can't multi-task, can't reason clearly, can't read anything intellectually challenging....Basically when I can't be who I used to be, that makes it really easy for me to "take time" for exercise. When I'm doing that, I don't think about what else I should be doing. It's the only time I feel focused.
Indeed, it is the only time I'm focused.
I do believe the longest, most severe lingering effect of cancer treatment has been to leave me with a raging, full blown case of adult attention deficit disorder.
I might even go so far as to use the adjective "debilitating."
I'm barely holding it together teaching this semester. Not only does it take me hours to accomplish the most basic of tasks, such as preparing lessons or evaluating essays, but I frequently forget to do what needs to be done. I've missed important deadlines, for instance the deadline for submitting my Family Medical Leave paperwork for the time I'll need to take off this semester. I can barely manage to plan meals and get groceries (OK, I'm incapable of doing this and we rarely have well rounded meals). I'm always forgetting something I need to do for work, such as grade papers or upload an assignment sheet, or even develop an assignment sheet. I've had huge chunks of missing information in assignments, and I've even managed to consistently forget to assign students basic work. Um, yes. I totally omitted teaching about transitional devices to my weak, first year writers. I'll cram that in next week.
I feel like I have the attention of a gold fish. Heck, since I have HUGE memory deficits, each day is like a new trip around the fish bowl.
When I add this to my vastly decreased processing speed, I've come to realize I'm vastly different than I was before.
In the last week or so, especially as I've been getting more and more frustrated while working with students--frustrations arising because I just can't help them troubleshoot the way I used to and I find myself getting confused while working with them--I realize that I'm not coping with these new realizations very well. Partly, I'm not coping because I'm tired of struggling to cope all the damn time. It's exhausting. Partly, I'm not coping because I'm no longer eating as well as I should be, for no reason other than I've simply stopped exerting the energy needed to plan food. For the first half of the semester, I was planning my (very simple) lunches in advance. Now, I'm just not. Partly, I'm not coping because I'm just not coping. I'm tired of coping.
And I have to admit, that tube of Pringles I just ate were damn good, even though I feel like crap right now.
Perhaps, along with ADHD, a lower IQ, and mental processing deficits, I'm depressed. Probably. I'll think about that. Later. If I remember. After I remember to go to my office and pick up the 60 essays dropped off there earlier today, which I'd forgotten about until just now. At 10:20 p.m. Hopefully, I'll remember to (a) exercise tomorrow morning, (b) pick up those papers, (c) grade them, (d) and to take Tynan to a movie tomorrow. If I'm lucky, I'll remember (e) that I even wrote this entry. Seriously, that's how bad it has gotten.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Last Herceptin
Today, 15 months to the day of my official diagnosis (that is, the day my pathology came back), I will sit for my last herceptin infusion. Hopefully, my last ever. However, upon contemplation, if I could continue herceptin in an effort to prevent recurrence, I would. If I do have a recurrence, I'll have to have herceptin for the rest of my life, or as long as my heart can tolerate it. It is highly cardio-toxic.
In fact, my last echo-cardiogram indicated a 10% decrease in heart function; however, unlike MUGA scans (which involve the injection of radioactive dyes and freak me out) the "reading" of an echo-cardiogram varies from person to person, so a 10% decrease could be due to interpretation, which is exactly what my onco chalked the decrease up to. The ejection fraction was still within normal range, regardless, and I had run 5 miles the day before....so no one is worried about my heart.
But isn't that a mixed bag: if I have a recurrences, I'll have to have herceptin for the rest of my life, unless it causes enough heart damage that I'll have to stop it. Heart damage can kill...cancer can kill...sucks all the way around, I guess.
Rumor has it there is a herceptin vaccine in stage three trials right now. I'd be first in line, I think, if it were available for me.
Of course, there are "unknown long term effects" with which to be concerned. After all, I think herceptin itself has only been available like I've been using it since 2006 and only since 1998 for metastatic breast cancer...
Anyway, in a few minutes, I'll leave for my last infusion, hopefully forever.
Meanwhile, I'm just about to need to get my hair cut and styled. My wonderful sister-in-law did my first trim a few weeks ago, so that it is all the same length...about 1.5". It's much thicker than it was before. It's much, much curlier. I understand that I have what is known as a "chemo-perm". I'm trying to enjoy it, and I rather hope the curls stay. Some people find they do; others find they don't. Meanwhile, I've decided to keep my hair short. Now, I just need to find a local stylist who can make it do what I want it to do. Oh, and the appropriate "product" to make it conform to my every desire and have a texture that I approve of. Not too much to ask for. Probably impossible.
I've continued my quest for physical fitness. Some might call it an obsession. My one child certainly thinks it takes up too much of my time. Of course, being the whiniest child in the family, I take his complaints with a grain of salt. He'd never be happy. It has been a change for them though...me working days and then taking exercise classes and/or working out in the evenings. At one point, I might have cared more than I do now. Now, whatever. In fact, now, I regret the years I spent sublimating my needs to theirs, and more so, using that as an excuse to avoid dealing with my own issues. Yes, indeed, I think this is a common problem of many women, mothers especially, especially mothers in my "circle" of dedicated breastfeeders and homeschoolers. And now, looking in from the outside, I see many women who have put themselves in the position of being regularly taken advantage of by their families because of this. And I see many women who use their husbands, children, and "busyness" as an excuse for ignoring their physical (and perhaps mental) health. But all of this is material for another entry on another day.
Back to my own quest for fitness. I ran a little over 8 miles yesterday. I didn't do it quite nonstop. Yet, when I did stop, it was to stretch and deal with tight muscles, not to rest. I understand "runners" do this all the time. I'm not racing. I'm completing. I have one more "breast cancer" hurdle to accomplish this year, and that's my reconstruction surgery on November 19th. To psych myself up for that, my plan is to run the equivalent of a half marathon the weekend prior. I can't find a race nearby, and I'll be way too busy dealing with grading, planning for being out of the classroom, and generally getting ready for surgery to travel to a sanctioned event, so my plan is to simply run 13.1 miles on either that Saturday or Sunday on my own. I feel sure I can do it.
That is all well and good. In general, I feel good. I've learned to cope with the constant fatigue, which is still lingering from radiation. Some say it never goes away. My biggest challenge, the one I find most frustrating, the one that is most fear inducing, the worst perhaps permanent side effect of all of this, though, the one thing that I'm NOT doing well dealing with, is chemo-brain. I'll write more about this later, but suffice it to say, it is real, it's not going away or improving, and it has had a HUGE negative impact on my ability to live life and to function at my job. Fortunately, it now has a more professional sounding name and has been recognized by experts. Meanwhile, I am having a hard time coming to grips with, in essence, learning to accept that I'm basically brain damaged and not nearly as smart and capable as I was one year ago.
However, now I must jump in the van, drive to Toledo, and get my last infusion. I shall then celebrate by taking Tynan out to lunch and then, if the weather holds, we are going to go on a fun bike ride in one of the metroparks.
In fact, my last echo-cardiogram indicated a 10% decrease in heart function; however, unlike MUGA scans (which involve the injection of radioactive dyes and freak me out) the "reading" of an echo-cardiogram varies from person to person, so a 10% decrease could be due to interpretation, which is exactly what my onco chalked the decrease up to. The ejection fraction was still within normal range, regardless, and I had run 5 miles the day before....so no one is worried about my heart.
But isn't that a mixed bag: if I have a recurrences, I'll have to have herceptin for the rest of my life, unless it causes enough heart damage that I'll have to stop it. Heart damage can kill...cancer can kill...sucks all the way around, I guess.
Rumor has it there is a herceptin vaccine in stage three trials right now. I'd be first in line, I think, if it were available for me.
Of course, there are "unknown long term effects" with which to be concerned. After all, I think herceptin itself has only been available like I've been using it since 2006 and only since 1998 for metastatic breast cancer...
Anyway, in a few minutes, I'll leave for my last infusion, hopefully forever.
Meanwhile, I'm just about to need to get my hair cut and styled. My wonderful sister-in-law did my first trim a few weeks ago, so that it is all the same length...about 1.5". It's much thicker than it was before. It's much, much curlier. I understand that I have what is known as a "chemo-perm". I'm trying to enjoy it, and I rather hope the curls stay. Some people find they do; others find they don't. Meanwhile, I've decided to keep my hair short. Now, I just need to find a local stylist who can make it do what I want it to do. Oh, and the appropriate "product" to make it conform to my every desire and have a texture that I approve of. Not too much to ask for. Probably impossible.
I've continued my quest for physical fitness. Some might call it an obsession. My one child certainly thinks it takes up too much of my time. Of course, being the whiniest child in the family, I take his complaints with a grain of salt. He'd never be happy. It has been a change for them though...me working days and then taking exercise classes and/or working out in the evenings. At one point, I might have cared more than I do now. Now, whatever. In fact, now, I regret the years I spent sublimating my needs to theirs, and more so, using that as an excuse to avoid dealing with my own issues. Yes, indeed, I think this is a common problem of many women, mothers especially, especially mothers in my "circle" of dedicated breastfeeders and homeschoolers. And now, looking in from the outside, I see many women who have put themselves in the position of being regularly taken advantage of by their families because of this. And I see many women who use their husbands, children, and "busyness" as an excuse for ignoring their physical (and perhaps mental) health. But all of this is material for another entry on another day.
Back to my own quest for fitness. I ran a little over 8 miles yesterday. I didn't do it quite nonstop. Yet, when I did stop, it was to stretch and deal with tight muscles, not to rest. I understand "runners" do this all the time. I'm not racing. I'm completing. I have one more "breast cancer" hurdle to accomplish this year, and that's my reconstruction surgery on November 19th. To psych myself up for that, my plan is to run the equivalent of a half marathon the weekend prior. I can't find a race nearby, and I'll be way too busy dealing with grading, planning for being out of the classroom, and generally getting ready for surgery to travel to a sanctioned event, so my plan is to simply run 13.1 miles on either that Saturday or Sunday on my own. I feel sure I can do it.
That is all well and good. In general, I feel good. I've learned to cope with the constant fatigue, which is still lingering from radiation. Some say it never goes away. My biggest challenge, the one I find most frustrating, the one that is most fear inducing, the worst perhaps permanent side effect of all of this, though, the one thing that I'm NOT doing well dealing with, is chemo-brain. I'll write more about this later, but suffice it to say, it is real, it's not going away or improving, and it has had a HUGE negative impact on my ability to live life and to function at my job. Fortunately, it now has a more professional sounding name and has been recognized by experts. Meanwhile, I am having a hard time coming to grips with, in essence, learning to accept that I'm basically brain damaged and not nearly as smart and capable as I was one year ago.
However, now I must jump in the van, drive to Toledo, and get my last infusion. I shall then celebrate by taking Tynan out to lunch and then, if the weather holds, we are going to go on a fun bike ride in one of the metroparks.
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