Some relief!

After the freezing from the nerve-root injection wore off on Wednesday night, my leg hurt as usual, but over the past three days the pain has diminished considerably. Yay! My leg still feels weak and I get tiny spasms all the time, something like restless-leg syndrome, so I still have difficulty falling asleep, but when I do I am able to sleep for six or seven hours with the help of codeine.

I went off the amitriptyline and the next day felt slightly more energetic and in a better mood, and my food tastes a little better, so I hope I can stay off that one. Still, when I go for a walk I'm moving at about half my usual pace, and I continue to have difficulty getting up the stairs.

Pollyanna moment:

• Yesterday I found the energy to bake some Christmas cookies, so I didn't go to my brother's early-Christmas dinner empty-handed.
• I still can't lie still for long periods of time, but I can get a little reading done here and there.

The root of the problem?

This morning I had a nerve-root cortisone injection in the base of my spine in an attempt to resolve the sciatic pain that's been making me crazy. I've slept through the last couple of nights, but only because of heavy drugs. Not only does my leg hurt, but it's getting weak; I'm having trouble climbing stairs, and when I crouch down I have trouble getting up again.

So, since the injection I feel pain-free, but I've been warned that may be just because there's freezing in there. We'll see how I feel when it wears off. I'm actually putting my hopes on a placebo effect. Apparently, the procedure is diagnostic as well as potentially therapeutic; if I get some relief, then they know they've hit the right spot, and if they later decide to do surgery (the effects of the injection don't last) they know where to work.

I've just read some accounts on the Internet about people who had nerve-root injections and three days later had wildly increased pain! Oh, I should never have done that search.

The procedure wasn't very pleasant, but it didn't hurt much. The doctor was a student, which worried me a little, but as soon as she hit an obstacle, she fetched a senior radiologist, who guided her through the process expertly and in great detail. They inserted needles using an X-ray to guide them. Three times they hit something that hurt, and when I hollered, they asked if the pain was in my back or down my leg. The fact that it was in my back was good, I gathered; if it had been down my leg it might have meant they were damaging the nerve itself. The technician who assisted during the whole thing was a friendly and soothing guy; all in all, Jocelyn and I were impressed by the staff's kindness. And I, of course, was impressed that Jocelyn was kind enough to accompany me.

I still have no appetite. I do hope that I can start cutting down some more on these drugs. Reducing the amount of codeine I've been taking has resulted in some bouts of extreme agitation and jumpiness. I had an expert reflexology session two days ago and had to cut it short because I felt so antsy on the table I couldn't relax or lie still. I guess that's withdrawal.

Pollyanna moments:

• Jay visited and serenaded me accompanied by his guitar. It had been a long time since I'd heard "Scarlet Ribbons" -- what a sweet song.
• Although it's been very tiring to get through my seniors' writing workshop sessions, I've enjoyed them, and I've been impressed by my participants' hard work, and their patience and understanding when I'm not well.

Maintaining

I'm not sure how to describe the past couple of weeks. I've hit a very low point in my life. The inability to sit or lie still because of sciatic pain in my leg makes it difficult to read or write, so this post won't be long. I've lost 25 pounds; it's hard to say how much is anxiety, how much is damage to my esophagus from the radiation treatments and how much is aversion to food because it's so hard to swallow. All I can eat comfortably are soft foods, and I have a raging thirst. Water is hard to drink, so I eat a lot of popsicles. I am still so exhausted I have to lie down after I climb a flight of stairs.

Pollyanna moments:

• My book club friends met at my house and did all the setting out and cleaning up in the kitchen. It was a little overwhelming, but it helped to make me feel like I was in the real world.
• When I went out to some medical appointments, I did a little Christmas shopping, moving very slowly, and that, too, made me feel like I was part of the world instead of just wearing a track in my hardwood floors all day and night.
• Barbara Z. arrived at my door with a huge teddy bear, perfect for hugging.
• Chuck put up my pathetic little string of Christmas lights in the porch and fixed my door lock.
• Some of my coworkers showed up with wonderful soup from Whole Foods, and fruit popsicles.
• Hugh sent me DVDs of The Monkees TV series.
• Liz keeps cooking me wonderfully rich foods and driving me hither and yon. People have been so kind!

More good news

Well, after scaring the pants off me for the past month, try as she might my oncologist could find nothing sinister in my scans that wasn't already there two months ago. All that's in my skull is a brain, and my spine is unchanged: dotted with cancer. Nothing in my liver or lungs.

As for why I feel so lousy, she agrees it's a combination of radiation side effects, too much medication and depression. She prescribes a vacation. And will probably start permanent chemo in January. She is encouraged that nothing is progressing, so although it's still incurable Stage 4 cancer, we're not at the death-is-imminent phase just yet.

I know I should be doing cartwheels about that, but if this is what "death-is-not-imminent" feels like, I sometimes wish it were imminent after all, because feeling this ill is not the way I'd hoped to end my days. However, here's hoping I'll feel a little better soon. I'm pretty sure the radiation is working; I've stopped taking Tylenol and cut back on the codeine. But the sciatica is driving me nuts and making it hard to sleep, I feel nauseated and woozy and everything I put in my mouth tastes and feels like cardboard.

I asked Dr. Lee if I had heard her correctly when she suggested that cancer would take advantage of compromised bone. Yes, she said. So, I went on, my taking Arimidex for two years, which may have caused my spine to collapse, may therefore have made my cancer spread instead of impeding it. She looked a bit stricken and offered only that there are now trials ongoing that have patients alternate Tamoxifen and Arimidex.

Meanwhile, I asked, should I keep taking Tamoxifen? We went through the usual debate about how much estrogen-sensitivity my cancer has, while I pointed out for about the third time that she was going to do a pathology review of my tumours, which she finally managed to locate. Turns out the biopsy of my lower spine showed no estrogen-sensitivity, but the tumours they removed from my armpit in January (which the lab didn't bother to even test until I bugged Dr. Lee and she bugged the lab in October) were estrogen-positive. So I'm glad I pushed to go back on the Tamoxifen. I think.

Whine over.

Pollyanna moments:

• I can now swallow a mouthful of water without it coming out my nose.
• I can now wear tons of clothes I haven't been able to do up in years.

Some good news for a change

I saw the ear, nose and throat specialist again today (wonderful, wonderful doctor), and she says the CT scan of my neck shows nothing to be worried about. She examined my vocal cord again and says she thinks it's working a little better and would like to wait a while to see if the paralysis goes away on its own. Interestingly, she saw another patient recently who is undergoing cancer treatment and suddenly got a paralyzed vocal cord unconnected to the cancer, and she mused that something in the treatment must do something weird.

So I'm delighted about that, though I'm not sure how much longer I can stand not being able to drink water without choking. I nearly coughed up a lung yesterday morning as I worked my way through my gazillion morning pills. And here's something anatomically fascinating: the doc confirmed my suspicion that my recent inability to bear down -- meaning I don't have the usual oomph required to cough, shit, or get up from a lying-down position, or, I suppose, give birth -- stems from my inability to create a vacuum in my abdomen by completely closing my voice box (or something like that). Who knew?

The other question is: why did they radiate my neck if there is no cancer in my neck? I looked up side effects for neck radiation, and found out it causes the changes in taste I'm noticing -- sweet things taste bitter, for example. Apparently, the amitriptyline I'm taking for nerve pain leaves a bad taste in the mouth, too. It's not helping my appetite.

I finally gave in and bought six bottles of Ensure, chocolate flavour. The symbolism of having that meal-replacement stuff in my home is overwhelming; I associate it with imminent death. But there you go.

Anyway, I feel absolutely shitty, physically, but happy to get these results. Next step: tomorrow I'll see my oncologist and find out if anything weird showed up on my torso and brain scans.

Onward and upward....or sideways...or something.