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I have been dreading today for three weeks. I’ve smiled and answered briefly when people asked me what’s next, and when those I’m closest with would bring it up, I cut them off and simply said I don’t want to think or talk about it. While I am overwhelmingly thankful for Dana-Farber and will support them in every way I can for the rest of my life, I would like nothing better than to never again sit in that ninth floor infusion chair.

I have to admit, it was partially my own damn fault that today went sour. Since I showered last night, I simply woke up at 6:30, rolled out of bed, and went on autopilot getting ready as I have for the other infusions. We got to Dana-Farber right on time and while standing in the check-in line I remembered: I was supposed to take three Decadron before I left the house. They took me right away for my bloodwork and I explained that I could make it home and back before meeting with my doctor, but they said it was no problem, that they’d just give it to me via IV before the Taxol (chemo). I was assured that it would be no better or worse. I wasn’t thrilled and was kicking myself as my stomach was already uneasy.

In addition to my queasy stomach, the vein in my wrist was hurting, as did the IV as soon as it was put in my hand. It was checked when we got up to the infusion room; I was told it looked fine, but from now on we’ll use another vein, as it seems the A/C did a number on this one.

Up first: 50 mg of Benadryl. There’s a chance of several not good side effects (I’m sure I am impressing you with my technical talk – sorry, will never be a doctor!) happening during the infusion that they want to prevent, hence both the Decadron and Benadryl. Well, not sure how much of the Benadryl actually penetrated my system, as halfway through the infusion I was sick, going through three blankets and three pails… ugh. Luckily, I didn’t have my normal entourage – mom had just stepped out and it was only Tara and me, and the nurses who rushed over as soon as they heard the retching. I was extremely embarrassed and apologetic, and so thankful when it finally ended. While the large dose of Benadryl was a possible cause, I think I’m just getting like Mirany and my body simply does not want to be there. I really would like to just run away…

The pain in my veins persisted, though, and we kept warm packs on it through most of the infusion, although the heat hurt it, too. As soon as it ended, I went home and crashed. I slept for hours and am feeling better now that I’m awake. There are certain things that I still need to watch for over the next 24 hours, including numbness and loss of feeling in my fingers and toes, so I’ll work from home tomorrow. Hopefully none of the side effects will occur and I can be back to normal on Thursday. Even if I have to be miserable during the infusion, I would rather that and be able to work within a day or two, then to just feel generally crappy for a week! Some of the side effects are cumulative, including fatigue, so we will see how the next 11 weeks go…

There was one highlight to my day – no, it wasn’t the bright pink hand wrap, although that was cool. My friend who I mentioned a couple of posts ago who just had a lumpectomy was at Dana-Farber for her follow-up and visited me during my treatment (luckily after the incident mentioned above). She got the official report of being completely cancer free, and looks wonderful, although she’s still experiencing some post-surgery issues. I am just so thankful it was caught so early, and she has a long life ahead of her: please follow her example and do your checks! Time can be on your side if you check regularly. And no matter how many bad days I have through this fight, I will put up with them and even be thankful for them, as I know I have a long life ahead of me, too!

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The other night my friend Herb told me about his recent trip to Florida and how surprised he was at how much his ailing father had changed. His mother hasn’t been straight with him on the phone and has been continuing to basically live their lives the same without accommodating for the changes in her husband. As I listened, it occurred to me that it has nothing to do with his mother being mean, neglectful or not loving his father. It’s BECAUSE she loves him so much that she just doesn’t want to face it. She doesn’t want to see how he’s changing and how frail he is, how much help he needs. She wants him to be the same man she fell in love with, the same man she married. Maybe she really can’t see the changes. It is her blind spot  – don’t they say love is blind?

Then I realized: that’s how a few people are with me. It’s not that they don’t love or care about me that they completely ignore the fact that anything is different about me, maybe it’s that they do love me that it hurts them to see me this way and just refuse to face and deal with it. I am still hurt by how they now treat me, but this new perspective helps me understand them a little bit more, and at least makes me feel like maybe I do matter to them.

And then I had another revelation: that’s actually what I am doing to myself. I still get shocked when I look in the mirror. I still cringe when I see pictures of myself bald. I just went for a run (if you can even call what I’m doing running) and got frustrated with myself that I couldn’t even do the whole 3 miles of one minute run and one minute walk – sometimes I had to walk for two or three minutes before doing another minute of running. I don’t want to face that I don’t have hair any more. I don’t want to see that the steroids and eating to ease the nausea are making me pack back on the pounds. I don’t want to be tired after a few minutes running. I want to be the me I was in February…

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Nick and I had our five minutes of fame today on the 11thAnnual WEEI / NESN Jimmy Fund Radio-Telethon. I have to admit, listening to the telethon while driving to work, I was really second guessing why in the world they would want ME on their show – every patient’s story that I heard was so much more tragic, inspiring, complicated, heart-tugging – just so much more compelling than mine! But I’d already committed, and who was I to judge?

I was glad Nick came with me, especially when they asked if he wanted to join us in the studio. We got the usual “he’s too old to be your son!” comments, and then launched right in. It occurred to me as we spoke that my story is not MY story. It is so many stories intertwined. It’s Kristen, and Greg and the whole Montalbano family’s story. It’s Mirany, Sarah and Scott’s story. It’s my family and friends’ story. It’s Nick’s story. Cancer does not happen to one person. It happens to everyone whose lives they touch. And I am so blessed to have an incredible circle to share with – both the good and the bad. And I’ve been fortunate to have people like Kristen and Sarah share their cancer experiences with me to help make mine a little easier. And that’s what I hope to continue to do for others…

If you didn’t get a chance to tune in today, here’s the link – the Nick parts are, of course, my favorite! http://audio.weei.com/a/61626264/m-m-amy-atwood-and-son-nick.htm I was truly relieved to learn money WAS raised while we were on air (my real nightmare was that the phones would stop ringing during our segment…). And it’s not too late – the telethon continues through tomorrow, simply text KCANCER to 20222 to make a $10 donation or call 1-877-738-1234 or click here to donate the amount of your choice!

As a thank you, we were given two tickets to tonight’s Red Sox game. Since Nick had his first night at his new job, Kristen joined me.  It was a beautiful night to be at Fenway, although not the best night for the Sox…

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