Up in he sky

It's a bird, it's a plane it's Superman!

Today I had my sixth physio in two weeks, although I only had a prescription for three more, but the man made my arm feel so wonderful, I was willing to pay for the extra ones myself.

Imagine my shock to discover each session was only 16 Euros. Now, I'm thinking to use the rest of the prescription in Geneva where I still have three unreported to the insurance company. Of course, I can get a new prescription as needed. Physio is considered part of the healing process for as long as needed. Since my lymph nodes won't grow back, this is reassuring.

I think of the new therapist as Superman.

Having worked with three physiotherapists since my operations and all three use totally different methods, I give new credence to the saying more than one way to skin a cat.

Besides massage and exercise he used a strange machine that was a cross between a robot in some SF movie and vacuum cleaner. I wasn't sure whether to greet it or not.

I now that therapists undergo extensive training in France and regular courses to maintain their status. He knew all about the lymph nodes.

I'm glad he's here so when I finally get back to normal and spend time in Argelès, he will be there to help. I might even bring him some Swiss chocolate...but I'm not sure if my robot vacuum would like a Swiss gift or not.
 

Heart OK

The cardiologist was young, slim and dressed in khaki pants. It was her job to give me a electrocardiogram. We chatted briefly.

She told me she'd chosen her profession because her father was a cardiologist and he was a peaceful man and she sought peace. Montpelier was where she'd studied medicine. When she talked about her work, her face glowed.

My heart and arteries are in great shape which means I can begin my 36 hours of chemo on the 1st. Although those 36 hours will take about 15 weeks to do, 36 sounds smaller than 15.

I wonder why Rick thinks I'm bad at numbers?

Another way to look at it

No matter how I try and pretend otherwise, I've been dreading the next four months with 12 rounds of chemo. Half of it is the chemo, half is not being able to go to Argelès. Granted I love Geneva but the childish part of me wants to throw a tantrum because I can't have what I want when I want.

The other half is fear even though the wonderful staff at HUG has prepared me for it, the anti-vomitting medicine is in my suitcase.

Then today I realized that each session will average three hours more or less. That is a total of a day and a half. A day and a half is a blip.

I can do this. A day and a half is diddly squat.

premonition

I don't claim to be psychic.

Three years ago when J and I were off on an adventure our goal was Dijon but we never got further than Arbois and had a wonderful time. We arrived home to discover I had breast cancer.

This year coming back from Andorra with Rick, we were headed for Foix but a Prehistoric park caught our attention. We had a wonderful time. I felt that bad news awaited me despite being lump free. We arrived home to discover I had breast cancer.

At the time I thought that the heading-in-one-direction-and-ending-up-in-another-place was similar.

And I felt that maybe the cancer might have come back. I told myself there was no cause and effect. Cancer and changing plans are not correlated events.

Any time after the first cancer when I have an exam, I always feared the worse.

I told myself I was being silly.

I don’t think planning to do one thing and doing another causes cancer. I don’t think exploring new and interesting places causes cancer.

Part of me also thought if I clicked to give free mammograms I would protect myself from cancer.

What I do understand is how people can be superstitious even when it unreasonable.

However, I do know I’m lucky where I can get the best medical treatment possible at affordable prices. Not all women are that lucky.

Next step

Two hours seemed like it would be a long time to arrange for my chemo. It flew by as the staff walked me thru every step of the chemo process.

There will be three treatments three weeks apart with a doctor's appointment and blood tests after a week to make sure my white count is where it should be. At some point a nurse will come to the house (yes you read that right, COME TO THE HOUSE) to give me shots to boost my immune system.

Then for the next nine weeks I have weekly sessions with different medication.

I've been given pills to control vomiting, the prescription for the week, a list of support groups for both myself and Rick.

I've been told the possible negatives: fatigue, mouth sores, hair loss, numbness, increased risk of infections. Bring 'em on.

As they explained...since there was cancer in my lymph nodes the goal is to kill any cell that might have snuck out beyond the ones they destroyed so they won't set up home anywhere else. I'm for that.

The sessions will take about half a day...less than I thought.

I was shown the chairs in misc. colors. I need to co-ordinate my wardrobe. I was shown the array of snacks, juices, teas and was reassured if I didn't feel like breakfast before I could get some basics there. I could bring a picnic if I wanted.

Rick could be with me if I wanted, if he wanted. I want what makes him feel best.

That it will be nine sessions not six was a bit disturbing, but we'll start right after I get back from France.

The sooner I start, the sooner I finish.

The blessed shower

For me a shower is more than a shower.

I use it to wake up, warm up, think up all kinds of thing be it a blog, lunch plans or the next chapter in a book I'm writing.

I let the hot water pour over me (unless it is summer when the water is cooler) washing out all tension.

Thus when I wasn't allowed to take a complete shower for two weeks it felt awful.

That doesn't mean I was dirty. There are bidets and I could shower from the waist down as long as my breast scar didn't get wet.

And I could shampoo my hair my kneeling over the bathtub.

However, today that all ended.

I took a full shower and shampoo and I blessed every drop of water. Didn't use it to write though. Maybe tomorrow.

Wigs, wigs, wigs

I'll admit it

I'm vain. I'm not cute and adorable as I was when I was a teenager, but I still want to look my best.

I never wanted chemo both because I hate not feeling my best, but also because I don't like not looking my best.

Many of my fears (such as no longer having pretty matching lingerie) have been proven wrong.

Today Rick and I went to the wig shop.

Michel the owner, and his adorable Yorkie (I don't really believe that he uses the dog fur for the hair based on M's smile) showed me "medical" wigs so light that it would feel natural on the hottest day.

He explained that hair begins to fall between the 12 and 15th day after the first treatment. At that point go to see him. He will make the wig for me in the color and style, and also cut off my own hair.
The loss of eyebrows and eyelashes can be compensated for by a makeup course.

The cost? AVS (the Swiss Social Security pays for it).

We saw a number of wigs that I would wear.

Pretty lingerie and hair that will probably look better than my own.

I can do this.