Basketball Fairy tails

We spent Easter afternoon relaxing with March Madness college basketball (good for my back which is starting to ache). This is a big event in my hubby's world. When he was choosing colleges back when he was a high school senior he had his pick of pretty much any school due to his combined athletic and academic records. He chose to be in the ACC solely based on being a basketball aficionado of the ACC. He turned down UCLA, Dartmouth, Georgetown, Minnesota...because they were not the ACC. So each year -- though we have no time to watch college basketball -- we always watch this stage and beyond (the elite eight, the final four, then the championship match). We fill out the bracket before March Madness begins. He continues to take at least 1 ACC team to the final game. We wager bets against each other and against his parents (major fans). It's a great distraction -- and it's so great to see the college kids play with such gutt, heart, determination. I can't help but feel total admiration and inspiration. What they learn and teach us in sport has so many life applications of up and down moments necessary for a final goal. A full-fledged fairy tale of sorts. I see it so clearly now. Here are todays examples from basketball:

In today's game between Duke and Louisville, a player -- Kevin Ware-- on Louisville's team went really high up to block a shot but then came down and broke his leg in the process. It was both surreal and painful to watch. His bone broke in two places and came out his skin 6 inches on national tv. The image was so horrific it sent his teammates and coach squirming in mutual pain then falling apart in tears. It was devastating. But during the whole time while he was being stabilized and taken away by paramedics he kept telling his teammates through his clenching desire yet incredible pain "win this game!" win this game!" It was such a display of courage and hope. His teammates then went on to win the game and all pointed to their teammates game shirt #5. They posed in official trophy picture shots with the trophy right above his shirt. I got all excited and emotional. Not a dry eye on my sofa. This cancer fighter is rooting for Louisville to take it all -- and for Kevin Ware to heal quickly and with strength over this next year.

Highlight video:

• http://aboverim.blogspot.com/2013/04/video-louisville-coach-rick-pitino.html

Regarding immediate successful surgery:

• http://www.chron.com/sports/aggies//sports/college/article/Louisville-s-Kevin-Ware-resting-after-surgery-4399143.php

The other basketball fairy tail story came out in this morning's paper: UCLA found its coach in Steve Alford and offered him a 7 year, 18.2 million dollar contract which he accepted only shortly having accepted a ten year 20 million dollar contract with New Mexico (my home for three glorious years while I trained at altitude back in the day). One reporter of the paper kind of made it look like he was a flake for having changed his mind so quickly from UNM to UCLA. Another painted him as such an underdog unworthy of the invite. But I saw something different. Something no one in the news seems to be focussing on and yet it's the humanity part, the meat and potatoes of a childhood dream that spans outside oneself part: he not only went to John Wooden's (the winningest famed and influential UCLA coach of decades past) alma mater for high school -- he played basketball there. His dad coached there. High School games of over 10,000 fans per game sold out and sell out there. He had a choice to take a fairly cush and easier pressure job at UNM but instead he chose high pressure UCLA. Like all Fairytails he's bound to have some wicked witch breathing down his throat the entire time -- and even try to poison him. But, there obviously must be some Top Gun ghost he has been chasing his entire career. He's never gone far in the March Madness tournament as a coach -- but he's made it there and he's won it all as an athlete under famed Bob Knight. He's also a 1984 Olympian! As a mom I get that a child needs to chase his dreams. I get how badly he not only wants to do this but needs to do this. And come this fall, his first season, his player roster will include his son, Bryce. I can't help but cheer this guy on in this fairy tail of a story -- it's not only great ammo for my chemo sessions but it's a piece of passion that will feed my desire to being a different kind of athlete: a survivor.

Chemo Cycle 1 Days 5-6: Haircut Stage 2 plus Easter

Days 5-6 of my cycle corresponded with Easter weekend -- and I'm grateful I had the energy to enjoy it. Below are some highlights of a last minute Easter egg hunt at our house and my chemo-cut stage2: my husband's length. It was both fun and memorable!


ps We were so lucky that the "Easter Bunny" had a surge of energy from 3-5 in the morning so this bunny decided to gift my son with a clean room and 'laboratory' (it's where he builds Legos -- part of science and math curriculum :)) and place his Easter basket on his laboratory desk. Ahh...how his basket contents have changed over the years!

Chemo Cycle 1 Days 3-5

Day 3, like days 1-2, was mild. I had a couple of headaches, some tingling, bursts of energy. My mom was amazed how much I was able to do. We even went for a two mile walk with our neighbor and my son. I was super alert. On the surface one could not tell I was a chemo-cancer-fighting woman. It was also the last day of my steroids.


my son finding a new friend on hike of day 3:

my mom and my neighbor who are now inseparable best friends:

me and my neighbor during walk of day 3:

Chemo bigger attack hit on day 4 for me. My mom said I looked like I had cancer -- whatever that looked like. I was a combination of things I've felt before but then again have never felt before. I was fatigued, tired, energyless --- and yet I was not all these things. There must be a word in our dictionary that means all these things and yet doesn't mean all these things because that was me. If you were a fly on my wall, I'd be the woman sitting on the couch staring off into space yet my mind was still pretty active. I took long naps, had less of an appetite had some nausea ... and then I was back to myself.

In theory, one of the two chemo drugs -- ct -- hits roughly day 4-5. Like clockwork, that pirate ship landed at its destined time and place and spent some energy but overall the battle was short-lived. My next chemo drug -- taxotere -- apparently hits hardest at day 10. I'll be waiting -- then again, not. I'll be living and doing what I can until then.

One of the funnest things that happened over these past days was my Ragnar team training run that started at our home on day 5 of my chemo cycle (I love watching my teammates excitement; I got to walk a mile of the second run :)). Once a month, a bunch of crazy teammates gather for a series of three runs within a 24 hour period in order to simulate the actual race we train for called "Ragnar Relays". In that race, 12 people in two vans travel a distance of 200 miles by following its teammates who run 3 times in 24 hours. I'm an addicted teammate. I was scheduled to run 3 Ragnar Relays this year; I gave up my first race of the year -- April 20, 2013 -- after I learned I had to go through chemo. Though my doctor said it would be ok to run it if I were in the third week of my chemo cycle, for this particular date I would be in my first week of cycle 2. Not the best time. So, instead, I'll be whole-heartedly cheering on my teammates who are all now such close friends. My hubby is also a teammate :)

In my next post I'll share my hair stage 2 experience in which I cut my hair to my husband's length.

Thank you for keeping me in prayers and thoughts!

Midnight Run for Ragnar Teammates, Liz chemo cycle 1 day 5 (they ran 4 miles at midnight while I cheered!):

Ragnar team run 8 hours later (8am, Liz Chemo cycle 1 day 5). 

My son ran 1 mile with daddy while I walked that mile then hubby continued with teammates)

Chemo Cycle 1 Day 2

Yesterday I went in for my part 2 day of my chemo cycle 1. This means that for each of the 21 day chemo cycles that I'll be going through, I will go in two days in a row. The first day is the chemo infusion; the second day is the white blood cell infusion followed by 19 days of recovery. When 21 days are over, I then start the next cycle. So far here is my schedule of upcoming chemo treatments:

• chemo cycle 1 March 26-April 15
• chemo cycle 2 April 16-May 6
• chemo cycle 3 May 7- May 27
• chemo cycle 4 May 28-June 17

Since yesterday's appointment time was later in the day, at 1:30, I took advantage of a beautiful morning with a one mile walk with my son and my mom. It was the perfect image I wanted for the rest of the day -- peaceful streams, trails, and sounds of birds.

For this second clinic day I brought my mom which was great in many ways. It was a chance for her to sit still (she has so much energy!) and just relax and tell stories of her childhood. I love listening to stories and this definitely takes my mind off of reality. I love this distraction. Plus my mom has been so fearful and anxious of the entire process -- this visit somewhat demystified the process for her. She got to meet the chemo room folks as well as the reconstruction folks all in one afternoon. But she still did not want to watch any details.

As for what I'm currently feeling -- so far so good. If I continue with the analogy I created for my son of the chemo cocktail being like a steady stream of pirate ships being launched into my blood for a sea voyage, then at this current time the pirates seem to be cruising around my system. They have not yet seemed to have landed on any island; they have not yet struck any innocent bystander or inflicted pain. Then again, I'm heavily medicated which helps not feel much. Yesterday was my last steroid. Today, I had the first signs of tingling -- which is the first neuropathy sign, but not much. I've had some headaches, but these went away fast. Honestly the reconstruction pain is the real pain I feel now. Last night I woke up at 2am searching for the right meds thinking, "Do I take the percocet, vicadin, or valium?" I talked myself out of all the options initially then turned to the percocet as the drug of choice (constipates me, but I think it seems like the least harsh of the three pain meds for reconstruction). It's not long pain -- it reminds me of when I wore braces in middle school and the orthodontist tightens my teeth brackets which causes some pressure. With reconstruction, it's similar just in a different location of pressure with some additional spasms, but overall it's doable.

So as for how I'm approaching each day -- I'm going to take advantage of each beautiful day to do something that makes me appreciate life -- like take walks, enjoy the trees and flowers in bloom, read good books, balance some work as a teacher, homeschooling mom, clinician, and student wrapping up some loose ends prior to graduation in May. On days that are tougher, my plans are to rest.

Thank you for prayers and positive thoughts my way :)

This morning's walk before everyone woke up at my house (chemo cycle 1 day 3):

Walk in nature before appointment of day 2

chemo cycle 1 day 2 with my mom:

my chemo nurse:

my reconstruction nurse:

my surgeon pa:

chilling at home and telling hubby about day:

Chemo cycle 1 day 1

(photos at end of post)

Yesterday morning was the start of my first Chemo cycle. Overall, it went well thanks to preventative things they put in my iv. One was a steroid - I'm assuming to prevent inflammation for starters. This made me super hyper. I was working on my son's three year report (triennial) for the first part no problem-- until they put in the benadryl. All of a sudden I started slurring up a storm then I passed out. Good stuff, I guess. That is until I woke up with intense sharp pain in my arm. I guess the stuff, mixed with my Chemo first drug called taxotere (which runs one and a half hour) either directly or indirectly caused my vein to spasm then stop working. Painful. They tried flushing the vein without success. So they then had to resort relocating the iv to the center of my inner elbow -- which meant I could no longer bend my arm. At that point they started my second chemo drug, CT, which lasts about 1 hour. This is then followed by about 30 minutes of extra iv. Luckily, since I was up, I turned to my IPad Kindle ap and did some reading for the rest of the time (at least until my head starting hurting). Again, the solution was rest and more meds.

This first chemo session started a little after 930am. It ended at 430pm. I then got to go home. Actually, first we stopped off at a local Sprouts health market to pick up missing food items. In particular, I wanted organic, free-range chicken to make bone broth. I read this will help with bone pain that I'll feel roughly two days after my session today. Today I go back for iv treatment that includes a medication that will boost my white blood cell count. Mine is already pretty low so this will help. The price will potentially be debilitating bone pain as a worst case scenario like a woman sitting next to me in the chemo room who is also on my same cocktail of taxotere and ct. I'm ready either way but always staying hopeful. And if it happens to hit hard then hopefully mine will be short (like two days).

Yesterday I met a few women in the Chemo room and we swapped war stories. The woman next to me was about my age -- there for her third time. She's the one on my same cocktail of taxotere and ct. For her, said her symptoms were mild from day 1-day 3 (everything in our life now is counted in cycles of 21 days. Day 1 is Chemo day. Day 2 is the next day. Etc). She even went to work from day 2-3. Then her bone pain hit on day 4. It lasted 4 days for her in the first cycle of Chemo. The second cycle of Chemo it started around the same time - but lasted 7 days! She didn't work on these days. As for other symptoms, for her, she said it's been like a combined nasty flu with the muscle soreness after an intense workout. I asked her if she tried bone broth for the pain. She didn't know about this. I'm hoping it works for the both of us. She's also not on any paleo diet. I think bad food can be a contributor to additional pain due to inflammation it causes. It's my hunch but there's a lot of science behind it. It's also my hope.

The way I explained Chemo to my son is that they infused meds into my system through an iv. These meds sometimes start in groups; then the chemo drugs are back to back. These meds are like good pirates on some ships being sent out into my ocean of blood. They will eventually do some good deeds. Along with these meds pumped in there are some bad pirates -- sailing about ready to disembark on their first target island and cause some major battles and pillaging of innocent bystanders. Currently both good pirates and bad pirates are sailing around my bloody ocean so I'm not feeling horrible just yet. They're roaming; some pains a long the way are premature small attacks that don't amount in a long time. Currently, though, I'm loading up my artillery (good juicing, foods, lots of water, sleep, reading up on cancer and nutrition, and walking exercise) to get ready for any potential big battles. I want to be ready to take on those bad pirates if and when they come. He got this -- and I think listening Grandma, who came down yesterday, got this, too.

So I'm ready for today. So far it's starting more calm than yesterday. Mostly this is because yesterday was an earlier day compared to today's 1:30 session which will last roughly 90 minutes without complications. Then I go in next door for reconstruction injection part 2. For this they inject 50cc of saline solution into my pec muscle which then hits a balloon behind it. This balloon has a magnetic valve which they find by moving a magnet on my pec wall to find the valve. They then mark it with a permanent marker. That's where they inject. If I spasm, I get Valium. So in some ways today might be harder than yesterday. But hopefully not!

Thank you for prayers and for keeping me in your thoughts!

My station ready and chemo starting:

frequent trips to bathroom (because I was being a good girl and by staying hydrated -- I drank 64 oz of water plus 32 oz of green juice I made prior to trip. I also brushed and washed after each snack and meal):

Changing IV position...not fun but over with quickly:

Packed Chemo Bag

In some ways, my body will be going off into some distant land. So, I decided to make a trip out of my upcoming Chemo cocktail infusion clinic date.

I've embraced the color pink as my color of hope. With this embrace I figured I needed a separately packed "pink" bag ready for the experience. Having this setup will also help me in planning each 21 day-cycle in which I go in for a 5-6 hour drug session on one day followed by 20 days of recovery. I'm assuming Chemo-brain will be in effect after the first session. Then repeated Chemo cocktails will make me even more forgetful in remembering what items I'll need each time. Better just to be ready and not worry about forgetting anything by having this prepacked bag.

Below are the items I've packed away for my series of cocktails, starting on Tuesday, March 26, 2013.

Chemo Bag Items

Pink bag (peony) from Amazon with 3 set packing cubes to separate items:

items inside pink duffel bag include comfy pink quilt I've been using for recovery, lapdesk to place my iPad on which contains entertainment, the three packing cubes with items separated (bag 1 drugs, toiletries, snacks; bag 2 my son' s triennial clinical report  that I'm working on; bag 3 medical records and chemo to do lists from chemo class)

Graduate Cumulative Exam

Yesterday I took my Graduate Cumulative Exam after a 3 year cohort process -- and 3 years of prerequisites to get into that program. I'm grateful that the window of time between mastectomy and chemo allowed for me to take the exam. I feel a huge weight lifted off my shoulder.

I look back on my life of academics and while I love learning, I'm not a fan of the test taking process. As a college instructor I understand it's important and needed but being a test taker is brutal. In the end, though, it makes the actual attained goal that much sweeter.

Test-taking reminds me of my old racing days in that no matter how hard you practiced a certain distance at a certain pace you never know how it's going to go due to do the many variables out of ones control that happen on race day. Race day can be hailing or windy or evil hot. Other racers can pull the pace to a ridiculously blazing pace only then having to drop from the field or these runners can take it so slow that it comes down to the final 10 second kick that determines the winner. So even a race day when winning is not the objective but a time goal is then you still have to tease out the combined adrenalin and emotions that come with race territory. So race environmental conditions, other athlete behaviors, and personal internal conditions all impact the overall performance.

One of the best pieces of racing advice I've had came from a sports psychologist at UCLA who recommended the book Feel The Fear And Do It Anyway by Susan Jeffers. This sports doctor had all the athletes read this book when I was at UCLA. One quote that stuck out "“Whatever happens to me, given any situation, I can handle it.” This, of course, is something I've been able to do as long as I stayed positive, prayed, meditated -- and recruited family and friends out in the stands or out in the distance to think of me and help cheer me on.

The other great piece of advice came from my Olympic coach, Brian Appell, who encouraged pushing past adversity by practicing it. Elite athletes are conditioned to push past pain in order to get to that euphoric state of joy otherwise known as runner's high. Kind of ironic. To get joy you must push past pain. But it's such a parallel to life. And, no matter how much we can practice "the race distance" it is somehow ironically useful to practice under trying conditions.

Yesterday's exam was hard for many reasons. It covered 6 years of material. It was timed. It was lengthy. For me, personally, it was like running in the heat and the sleet (the conditions eg cancer and its effects post mastectomy) with runners (the actual questions) who played and teased me with faster and slower paces. Sometimes I got caught up in some questions (some runners paces) while other times I went my own pace (taking deep breaths). A marathon of sorts. But I crossed the line and that alone felt great and now I'm so hoping and looking forward to the cap on my upcoming bald head and gown on my new body in May's graduation day.

It's funny (not really but interesting) how I've said so many times over my life that I will never go back to school to pursue xyz degrees. On the surface it looks like I have overachiever syndrome or a competitiveness streak yet it really is not that way for me. Life just calls on me. When I went back for this second (or third or fourth...) career I did it for my son. He was my inspiration. My muse. My unconditional love. When he was born with both perfection (as every mom sees in the eyes of her infant) and challenges that required medical and other specialist intervention, I became part of those teams. When certain challenges were in guinea pig stage of treatment then I took over. In some ways it is competitiveness because I saw something better for my child. Thankfully where some naysayers went one way I chose a different pace and path and as an athlete the different conditions out there were ones I've experienced before. Pain is pain. Joy is joy. Runners high is runners high -- and I've experienced and continue to experience this with my child and his unique world. And, of course, I still get scared, I still get butterflies, and I still will always rely on prayers, positive thoughts and a whole lot of love. In fact, the best racers I've ever lived with when I lived in an Olympic training camp were those who had the biggest hearts -- and they raced with these hearts. Love trumps it all.

My son is moving along past all sorts of expectations and he's doing so well. And I'm so lucky to be the coach of his team. This particular exam was a hurdle in the process and I'm so grateful I made it to this stage with a whole lot of love and support.