Not as easy as I thought...

Chemotherapy is defined as "the use of chemical agents in the treatment or control of diseases", I think it should be re-defined as "toxins that are going to make you feel, look, taste, and think horribly". After I breezed through my first treatment I had all the confidence in the world this was going to be a walk in the park. Boy was I wrong. I had my first treatment on a Thursday and by Saturday I had felt like I was run over by a truck, not just once but several times. I could not get off my couch all day. I was hoping to wake up on Sunday feeling revived. I woke up to feeling like a 95 year old lady. My bones hurt so bad I could not walk, to lift my bottle of water was painful. Not to mention, everything I drank (which was just water) and ate tasted as though it had been laced with aluminum foil. By Monday morning I was feeling better, I was just feeling a bit weak and tired. I thought the worst was over.

Monday afternoon Ryan and I headed into Christiana Surgicenter to have a simple out patient procedure done. Of coure, nothing with me can be simple. I have never had any type of surgicial procedure done, this was my first. I was still feeling run down from the chemo and I really didn't want to go through with this. We signed in and had a seat, that's when it all started. I instantly started crying, begging Ryan to take me home. "Something is going to happen" , " I don't want go through with this" were all things that I was trying to convence Ryan. He just reassuring me, "everything will be fine, calm down, it will be over before you know it". It didn't work I was freaking. I heard the door to the pre-op area open and "Amy Minsker" was called. I froze, looked at Ryan and said "don't move, I am not going, you can't make me". The waiting room, full of people, was now staring at me. Ryan literrally had to drag me to the nurse, like a parent dragging a screaming child from a toy store. He told her I was a little scared and she let him come back and stay with me. Now that I look back on that part, what a sight I must have been! A 31 year old woman freaking out about a simple out patient procedure. The nure was great at calming me down, she herself was an 8 year cancer survivor and told me "it is going to be the hardest thing you do, but you will do it". We waited in the holding area for over an hour, nerves were starting to build back up, the anesthelogist came in and boy did he wish he had gotten any other person besides me! When I am nervous I tend to ask A LOT of questions and not normal questions, I ask some off the wall nonsense. I think his favorite was "what are the chances I end up in a coma from this until December", he first looked at me a little puzzled, then at Ryan, who probably just shook his head and he responded with "from twilight sleep, umm you are not completely under", a little silly, I know.

Finally, after waiting forever my favorite surgeon came in and said "man I am tired today"...not really comforting, already nervous! He told me calm down everything will go alright, worst case scenerio is he hits my lung. OH GREAT. He went to scrub up and the time had come for me to walk to the OR. I said bye to Ryan, crying of course, and made my way. The nurse opened the door to the OR, I saw the table, 5 nurses and machines. I FREAKED! "No, no, no, I want to go home. I changed my mind. It's my body" were the only things I could manage to say. I begged the anestheoligst to let me leave. He said "ok, if you want to go I will walk you back out" "YES, I want to leave now" was my response. "ok, let me flush your IV and pull it out then we will leave", "ok" he told me I needed to lay down on the table so he could get the IV because I was probably going to get dizzy and then we will go. Why I believed that, no clue. I layed down and next thing I knew I was looking at Ryan. The nurse walked over and said everything was done they were just waiting for the x-ray to make sure the port was in the right place. My doc strolls on over, not looking like his pleasant self and claims "somehow I knicked your lung" what? He told us it was only delfated 7.5mm, nothing to worry about it should heal on its own. He apologized, said he had no clue, he never expected this to happen. Thinking it was nothing big we were discharged and heading home.

We got home a little after 4 and by 2:30am I could not breathe. I could not cough, I could not laugh, I had stabbing pains in the left top side of my back and whenever I did inhale, it made a funny little sound. I woke Ryan up said we needed to get to the ER something was wrong. My sister came down to be with kids and we left. All the way to the ER I kept telling Ryan all I don't want is a chest tube. Now, earlier my surgeon had told me what would happen if my lung continued to "delfate" and he said we don't want that it is very painful. Sat in the ER until about 4:30am waiting for X-ray results, doc finally came in and said, lung is collapsed. Again, I freaked. First thing out of my mouth was "do I need a chest tube" he responded with "yes" and I may have yelled the F-word. My nurse, Tara (God love her), was right there calming me down, the best she could. They explained the chest tube placement procedure to Ryan and myself and I was not happy! Will it hurt is all I wanted to know, it's not pleasant but we will get you through it was the answer I got. Awesome. About 5 mins later 3 thoracic surgeons, my nurse, and Ryan were all wearing surgical gear. This was all happening in a little ER room, seemed a little strange to me. As one doc told me to turn on my right side I got a glimpse of his name badge and it happened to be flipped around to show his AI Dupont badge, so in true Amy fashion I asked very loudy if he was a pediatrician, I was a grown woman and did not want a pediatrician putting a chest tube in me. A little offended, I am sure, he said no he works there also, not confident anymore. The other surgeon looked like he was 15 and I asked him if he was old enough to be doing this, he said yes, now 2 out 3 surgeons did not have my cofidence. As I lay there draped with a surgical sheet I see the third doc carrying in what looked like a police officers nightstick. The 15 year old surgeon was the one to place to tube, he starts feeling my ribs and counting, he then asks the other surgeon "between rib 3 and 4 or 4 and 5" "WHAT! Have you ever done this before" is what I quickly yelled. "yes" was all I got. I still think I was his first. He tells me I will be feeling some stinging and pinching, ok, feel it, then he says "you will now feel me seperating your ribs". Ok, some advice to doctors, don't give so much detail. OH THE PAIN. Then came the tube, the pressure, the pain, the jerking of my entire body because he could not get the tube in place, since I was his first patient EVER. He moved away and surgeon number 2 quickly jumped in, he was pushing and pulling and it literally felt like he was stabbing me in the heart, I felt like I couldn't breathe I was screaming and I mean SCREAMING for them to stop, I kicked the one doctor and my nurse who were down by sides. Poor Ryan, they had to get him a stool to sit on and he was as white as a ghost, sweating, hyperventaliting and made me let go of his hand. Finally I hear him say all done Amy. What, "I did not hear the gush of air you said I would did it not work" is all I asked. Dr. Sarcastic reponds with "you did not hear it because you were screaming so loud, it worked, I heard it". Ok, then the drugs kicked in and I was out. I woke up maybe 20 mins later in excrutiating pain. They kept giving me morphine but nothing took the pain away, every nurse or doctor who came in would comment on how painful these tubes were and they would never want to be in my place. That is comforting. The worst part was, hospital was at full capacity, which meant no bed available for Amy. I had to stay in the ER on the uncomfortable strectcher until 2:00pm when I finally got a room. I spent the next 4 days in a lovely private room, thanks to chemo for making me neutropenic!

After 4 long, depressing days in the hospital a wonderful doctor came in and said on my last 2 chest x-rays my lung was at 10% deflated and not moving. What does that mean, its safe to get the tube out and go home to Gabby and Cole, who I had not seen in 4 entire days! It was 10:00pm did I want to do it now or first thing in the morning, now! Pull the tube and send me on my way. I was scared to have it taken out, the pain of it being put in was still haunting me. The doctor who took it out was amazing, he was cracking jokes about my nerves and asking about the kids, he told me calm down and take a deep breath, take another deep breath, one more and hold it. Two seconds later he was waving the tube around into my face saying "hellooo there". EWWWWW, that was inside my body for 4 straight days. He also then decided to get a little serious and personal with us. He told me that my surgeon, the lung collapser, was the best in the state. He confided in us that he has not only been on the professional side of breast cancer surgery with him but also the personal side and he is the best at getting the cancer out. I told him I appreciated him telling us that information and that I already knew that. This was not his fault. It was a risk to the procedure I was having done, it just happened to be me. My surgeon feels terrible, he told us that a million times, I am the 4th lung he has ever hit, and he has been doing this a very long time the doc is at least mid 60's. His last one was ten years ago. He spent hours every night in the hospital with us, talking, watching tv, anything I wanted. He had a moment with me when we were alone and he said some very nice things. Hell, he even called me this morning to see how I was doing.

Basically first week of treatment, horrible! It can only get better from here. I hope.