Get it OUT of me

Last night, I had a terrible time sleeping. I have had this chemo port in my chest for exactly one week tomorrow, and boy, could I feel it last night.

I read on someone else's cancer blog that they suspected they had developed a blood clot in the area of their port because they had slept on that side. So I was thinking about that last night: Try not to sleep on the port side. But however I slept, I could feel that port digging into my chest. It wasn't painful - it was just THERE and at times, it felt incredibly uncomfortable -- even itchy.

I yearned to rip that sucker right out of my chest. When I shared this sentiment with JB this morning, he looked visibly worried (and if you know my poker-face hubby, you know that means he was very concerned). No - I will not rip the port out of my chest. But wow, I am not thrilled at the idea of having this sucker in me for the next four months.

I prayed for rest, and when I finally slept, my dreams were weird. Tonight, I'm going to pray for rest on the front end and hope that God blesses me with some sweet slumber.

That all aside, today has been a really good day. I had chemo for the first time on Feb. 16, and today I feel the most like myself. The first day, following three hours of treatment and a few bags of "medicine," I felt full of fluid and swollen. They had loaded me up with anti-nausea meds, so while I didn't actually vomit, my tummy felt distended and upset.

However, it's important to note that me not vomiting yet is HUGE, because the nurses who provided my chemo told me that 90 percent of the people who receive adriamycin and cytoxan end up hurling. So I directly credit God and the power of prayer with me keeping my cookies thus far. The oncologist's staff told me that the way people respond to their first chemo treatment is a good indicator for how they will continue to respond. So hopefully this reaction will continue.

The girls are very aware of the seriousness of this illness. A few weeks ago, as we were tucking the girls into bed, 3-year-old Bella sighed, "I wish you didn't have cancer, mama!" Kate immediately agreed. And after we went for pizza the night of my first chemo, Kate waited for me while I made my way to the car. She reached out her hand and said, "I don't want you to die, mama."

All I can do is agree, and tell them that it's my plan to be around for a long time. Thankfully, God has easily supplied the words and allowed me to be very matter-of-fact with the girls.

We have even shared some smiles. Last night, when reading a book about pirates, Kate pointed to a baldie buccaneer and said: "This will be you soon!" She was just sayin' - and I had to agree! No obvious hair loss yet, but my whole scalp has started to feel tight and tingly.

Ahoy, matey!