Big-time bummer

At 1 am Sunday morning, I woke to the sound of whimpering.

It was coming from me.

The long bones in my legs ached as they’ve never ached before. They felt as if I’d run a marathon barefoot on concrete or as if a cruel giant had wrung them out like wet laundry. I spent the rest of the night unable to ignore the excruciating throbbing. By morning my arm bones were aching as well. I called the cancer center first thing Sunday morning.

The on-call oncologist thought it might be a reaction to Neulasta, the post-chemo drug that stimulates bone marrow to make more white blood cells. It often causes bone pain – essentially intense growing pains. He suggested taking a Claritin which sometimes can block Neulasta’s effects. An hour later I called him back, barely able to speak through the pain.

“You need to take a Percocet or Vicodin,” he said. I had plenty left over from my surgery and I gratefully complied. Within 10 minutes, the pain mercifully drifted away. You can take Percocets every six hours. At precisely the five-hour mark, I could feel the miracle end and the pain start up again.

By Monday morning I was still in pain, but wanted to stop the Percocets so I wouldn’t be in a zombie fog. I needed to drive to an acupuncture appointment, and I wanted to go back to work on Tuesday as planned. My oncologist’s nurse told me to try ibuprofen. It lessened the pain enough for me to function, and after getting a decent night’s sleep on Monday, I felt more like my regular self and the aching had subsided.

Despite my couple of hours of Benadryl jollies, Taxol so far has turned out to be a big-time bummer.

A few hours after chemo on Friday, I was still loopy from the Benadryl, staggering and slurring, when suddenly the IV steroids kicked in, and I began speed-talking, emitting staccato bursts of information at Mark, who was bemused. By bedtime, the fun, floaty feeling from Benadryl had worn off but the steroids had me wired, even though I was desperate for sleep.

That night, I got just four hours sleep, which left me feeling wasted all day on Saturday. Saturday night, I expected to catch up, and instead got slammed with the bone pain after yup, just another four hours.


Today a friend e-mailed: “Did you hear the news about Elizabeth Edwards?”

I hadn’t heard any updates on her in a while and desperately hoped the news was that she’d had a spontaneous remission. Of course that wasn’t so.

Elizabeth Edwards struck me as a woman with unusual amounts of both grit and grace. Her final public statement, issued on Monday just a day before her death, exemplifies that:

You all know that I have been sustained throughout my life by three saving graces -- my family, my friends, and a faith in the power of resilience and hope. These graces have carried me through difficult times and they have brought more joy to the good times than I ever could have imagined. The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered. We know that. And yes, there are certainly times when we aren't able to muster as much strength and patience as we would like. It's called being human.

But I have found that in the simple act of living with hope, and in the daily effort to have a positive impact in the world, the days I do have are made all the more meaningful and precious. And for that I am grateful. It isn't possible to put into words the love and gratitude I feel towards everyone who has and continues to support and inspire me every day. To you I simply say: you know.