A number of things have happened since the last post.  It was there I mentioned the white blood cells were rejoining the party.  There are good things about that, and… interesting things about that.  So what’s been happening?
Acupuncture:  On a recommendation from part of my healthcare team, I made an appointment for acupuncture. It’s been effective for a lot of people in dealing with and overcoming fatigue.  I don’t know that I walked out feeling any different, and I don’t know if that’s the point. It seems to be something that will be effective when done as a regular treatment.  It doesn’t hurt; it doesn’t feel like anything, really. That is, the needles? You just don’t even feel them. It was relaxing.  But here’s what I like best:  Paige. She’s the acupuncturist.  She is lovely.  After we visited for a bit and went through medical history and current issues, I lay down on the comfy bed.  She feels my pulse points in my wrists.  She looked at me in the most caring way and said, “oh, wow, you ARE tired.”  I had never been more grateful to have my feelings confirmed.  I mean, sometimes, I just think maybe I’m whining.  She validated just how crappy I felt. Then, more amazing… She says, “and queasy. Are you feeling queasy?”  I was!! I was!! I hadn’t mentioned it; it just felt like a normal state of being for me.  She felt my pulse points and knew I was queasy.  I don’t care if it’s magic or voodoo or what; I am validated!!!  Then, 45 minutes with orders to lie still and rest on a completely comfortable bed?  I loved it!  Signed up for more.
That was Tuesday. On Tuesday I was feeling beaten and battered. I was tired, yes. But I had a pain. A pain that made some movements difficult. The pain had been growing worse. We thought it was just a little thing that would go away when some other issues would go away (or the antibiotics prescription was finished). But it was getting worse. By Wednesday I was having problems walking and moving. I was miserable and anxious and sad, and I had a 5-day in-patient treatment looming for Thursday morning.
I head to the doctor Thursday morning sort of limping my way in.  The nurse that draws my blood and gets my port accessed (that’s where they draw the blood, but then where the chemo IV goes, too) notes that I am looking like something isn’t right.  I tell her about the pain. She looks concerned and urges me to tell the doctor about it.  Believe me, it’s #1 on my list. A little while later with the doctor, he looks at painful area and says, “that looks like an abscess.”   I hold back tears (not very successfully) and can’t decide if I’m crying because (a) there’s something else wrong with me, or (b) I feel vindicated that this pain is a real, true painful thing and I’m not just being a sissy about it.
What happens next is all tales of wonder (only one horror)…
Chemo Treatment 4 is postponed: This, to me, was nothing but good news.  I mean, I felt horrible and was having major anxiety about STARTING a treatment cycle at that stage. When the doctor said we had to delay because you can’t have that kind of infection and chemo drugs going at the same time, I was delighted. Still anxious about what happens next with an abscess (we’ll get to that), but delighted.  I feel like I should have some concern about a delay because that means dragging it all out longer by the time we get to #17, but this was the most welcome news I’d had in a while.  We don’t know when Cycle 4 will happen, but it’s not happening right now.
Abscesses & Chemo:  Apparently, according to the surgeon who drained the abscess, they can be hidden by chemo.  The way I understand it is this:  (note I’m not a medical professional)  this little thing gets infected, but chemo wipes out the white blood cells. So there’s nothing around to fight the infection so it just lingers. Linger linger linger. Meanwhile, antibiotics aren’t seeming to do much (turns out, antibiotics won’t do much for an abscess). We wonder: has this been lingering for the past month while I’ve been feeling crappy and fighting mystery fevers????  Perhaps.  Then my white blood cells come back on board. The white blood cells are like, “hey, look, there’s a tiny hiding infection thingy, let’s go attack it!”  And they do. And in a matter of days, the little white blood cells have pushed the little infection thingy to the surface.  Sure, now it’s the size of a golf ball, but it’s on the surface and we can see it and deal with it.  So the surgeon can deal with this thing in his office. Conveniently across the street from the cancer clinic.
*time out for some history*

About 15 years ago, I fell down the stairs in my then home. I heard my bones break in my foot/ankle.  I was home alone and knew I couldn’t drive (right foot), plus I’d just fallen down stairs — not the time for a drive.  So I crawl… CRAWL… to the kitchen to get to the phone. I use something (I don’t remember what) to pop the phone off the wall so I can call 9-1-1.  The 9-1-1 operator asks me if my front door is unlocked and tells me they’ll break it in otherwise.  So I crawl… CRAWL… to the front door to unlock it.  I then wait for rescue. They arrive, all ends up well.

*back to draining an abscess*
My falling-down-stairs-crawling-around-with-a-foot-broken-in-three-place adventure?  Hurt less than draining an abscess.  Less. Way less.
But the cool thing:  Three hours after the most painful doctor’s appointment of my life?  I felt better.  I had an opportunity to talk with the nurse about that today. She says that happens. The goo in an abscess the size of a golf ball will knock you down. But just removing the good? Improvement immediately.  It’s been improving since, too. The nurse and I come to an agreement that what happened in that office will never, ever, ever, ever happen again unless I’m sedated and/or unconscious.  “You’d have to have it done at the hospital then,” she says. “I don’t care,” I say. Never again.
There’s an incision that causes some pain now, but it’s nothing in comparison (flesh wound!).  Since then, I am more awake (still have fatigue, but so much better). I am walking, moving, conversing with people, eating (!!), and keeping hydrated. It’s like a miracle!
Friends and Laughter = the best medicine:  Also this week, we had a visit from dearest friends. They were going to visit and spend time with me while I was in-patient at the hospital. I had the delight of being home during their visit. I laughed so hard it made my incision hurt… and I couldn’t feel better!  It’s truly a lesson for both Kathy and I about the value of keeping connections with the people we love.  For me, further evidence that laughing and friends and socializing is the best medicine.  I’m not moving as fast and there are times when I just can’t do it, but I’m going to make an effort to not get stuck in a rut of being sick. I went to bed last night thinking, “I am happy,” and it’s the best feeling in the world.  Friendship and laughter make that happen.