Click on this link and turn up the volume to HIGH!
Pink is the color of October, National Breast Cancer Awareness month. Pink has become my favorite color since March, which most of you noticed with my “Barbie” netbook, travel bag, sweaters on the sister trip to Banff. There is a story that should be told regarding my preference for pink and it involves one of my dearest friends, KK. But first, crank up your volume and play “Celebration” by Kool & the Gang because it is truly time to shout, to sing, to dance and to clap. KK has graduated and completed all her treatments! Yep, from biopsy to chemo to platelets and finally radiation…the girl is a winner!
So how did Sissy, whose only thoughts seem to revolve around retail therapy, become immersed in cancer therapy? I first met KK nine years ago when we were teaching at the same school. I was ready to retire soon and KK was our new librarian and newly married. Life was good. I was lucky to have landed a good job and lucky to have survived cancer surgery earlier in the year that was negative.
KK was one of those people who had a smile, a laugh and could not be tempted into a grumpy disposition. My entire attitude toward librarians changed immediately. Kids loved to have library days and it was a pleasure to team teach units on the library with KK. Years passed. I retired. KK had two children. We kept in touch but not as often.
KK called one evening in March and very calmly told me that she had breast cancer. That was it. More would follow when she could discuss the situation. Okay. What do you say when the healthiest person you know has cancer? KK ate the “good” foods; didn’t smoke or drink; exercised a lot; had a three year old and a six year old and a hardworking husband. How could this happen to KK? And, the mammogram taken a month earlier had not indicated a problem. After crying and questioning the universe, I realized it was time to focus on KK.
In a few weeks, e-mails began arriving from KK. Even though she lived four miles from us, this was going to be the method of communication for some weeks. It was easier than talking and saying the same thing over and over to the zillions of questions bombarding her. And I realized that some little part of me was afraid to talk to KK. How silly was that? If I didn’t talk to her, then perhaps all this was just a big mistake. At the same time KK was facing the biggest challenge of her life, I had reached my limit of frustration with my part-time job and decided to resign with no plans for facing the future.
KK had found the “bump” quite by accident. Her underarm had been itchy for days and in the course of scratching, this bump became obvious. Being pro-active, KK went to the doctor and requested a professional opinion. A quick scan determined that the bump needed to be removed and tested. The results were positive for an aggressive stage I breast cancer. Then came the consultations with a myriad of doctors who gave more information than anyone should have to process. The ultimate decision for treatment would be left to KK. The one thing that she did while listening to the doctors was have her husband take notes at each session. Never, ever visit a doctor under circumstances such as these without an advocate to listen and to take copious notes. (KK’s advice to every reader) The patient is already in a state of shock and denial from the diagnosis and will hear and retain very little information. [From personal experience, I know that is so true and wish I had had someone listening for me. Basically, I heard only the negative parts and began to dwell on those thoughts.] Some of you are reading this and thinking, “Why did the doctors take so long to start treatment?”. Liability, insurance, scheduling, tests, tests, more tests for drug reactions and KK’s desire to have a valid plan of action not only for her family but also for the end of the school year.
Early May, I was unemployed. KK was having a “hat” party, courtesy of her school friends. Upbeat, courageous, beautiful and positive would begin to describe KK that afternoon. The hats and scarves were fabulous with some hat sets…one for each of KK’s girls. I cannot describe how sad I was that afternoon and left before crying in front of everyone. On the drive home, I decided that I had to be involved and not just sitting on fringe. Cooking is not my thing. Yes, I could send cards and e-mails but those seemed a little lame. Not working and home all day put a new spin on the situation. I could drive for KK and heaven knows, I have a big, tank of a car that would transport her safely with room to sleep in the backseat. So with that idea, I went to see KK at home and announced that I was going to be driver for her chemo treatments. At first, KK being her independent (read that as “stubborn”) self, started with reasons why I didn’t need to do that. I claimed the age card with twenty years on her and told her that there would be no discussion…I was driving. With the exception of three times, I did drive. One of those three, KK decided she could maneuver the twenty-five miles and traffic on her own. Hmmm. When she dozed slightly and bumped the curb, KK’s gig was over.
What do you know about chemo treatments? I was so ignorant that it was embarrassing. You go get a shot of chemicals and go home, right? Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! If your appointment is at 10:00 am, first there is a 45 minute visit with your oncologist to check your progress both physically, mentally and emotionally; an involved record of all the drugs taken orally and through injections are reviewed. One of KK's pills was $800 and thank goodness for great state insurance. Then KK could do the weigh-in, blood samples and be attached to her I.V. The blood samples would determine the potency of the “cocktail” she was about to receive. At this point, I could be in the chemo lounge with her. Once the drip began, it would take at least four hours. KK had a port, surgically implanted in her chest, and gruesome as it may seem, this was better than searching for a vein every visit.
There were twenty-five or more recliners with I.V. poles for patients, chairs for friends, a baby grand piano, five nurses and it was cold. I learned quickly to dress for chemo climate and not the 80 degree days of summer. For KK, it was usually two or three heated blankets. KK was the youngest person at every session and we quickly found our favorite nurse, who was closer to KK’s age. Now, food and drinks were permitted, as were laptops/portable DVD players with ear buds. KK always brought her laptop and at least two “chick” movies, which we screamed with laughter watching. We had something yummy to eat and watched one movie each time before KK would fall into a deep sleep. At this point, I would mute her cell phone and spend some quality time reading.
Don’t I sound like a little angel? It took a few sessions before I could relax enough to understand what an awesome gift of time I had been given. The first time, I thought I would jump out of my skin with impatience. Can you be still and quiet for four hours and just be in a state of zen? Could I remember that this was not about “ME” but all about KK? That bit of insight was a revelation and suddenly, these sessions became precious moments in a friendship and ended too quickly. Whatever was in KK’s drip could induce some serious sleep. Often she would still be asleep the next day when I arrived for the drive back to do platelets. For the first five platelets days, it would take at least three hours of drip before an injection of platelets. Two days of treatment every other week for ten weeks was summer vacation. Did KK complain? Not once. She was a saint.
School was back in session in mid-August but chemo was not completed and KK was determined to be present at the first teacher workday. Just as school began, KK's husband was downsized which would have crushed an ordinary woman but not KK. Platelet treatments took less than twenty minutes and were preceded by a bountiful lunch at some fun places. KK was supposed to eat red meat and that was just the clue I needed to find awesome burger places (not fast food but the really good stuff). One of the best days was when KK ate every single bite on her plate, including fries, and reached over to eat what I had left! She was back.
Finally, the last chemo was September 3rd. Now after all these weeks, a celebration was certainly in order and had been planned for weeks. The chemo staff was floored but I was disappointed that they did not at least give a certificate of “graduation” to the patients upon completion of treatment. KK’s bag of goodies even had these ridiculous plastic hands that clapped, which we kept using the entire time. Obviously, some people were not as excited as we were but they got into the spirit. Hey, we had had to listen to some of the worst piano playing on the planet one afternoon and didn’t complain. Another item was a gift certificate to Camp Bluebird. ( Google this site) Camp Bluebird is for adult cancer survivors and would be held in our county in late October. I was prepared for KK to say that she could not be away from school for three days and had covered the bases with her principal prior to this day. She said, “Isn’t that funny? My principal told me a week ago that if I ever had a chance to attend a survivors’ retreat, I should go.” All I could do was laugh and admit my duplicity in the matter. Leaving that afternoon was bittersweet. It was the greatest happiness that chemo was a thing of the past but I knew I would miss this special time with KK.
Once her blood work satisfied the oncologist, the port could be removed in an office procedure. This was another day to celebrate. Unfortunately, the date scheduled had not been approved by all those involved, so we had made the trip in vain. I knew KK would want to go back to school so imagine my surprise when she giggled and said, “Let’s just have some fun!” No problem, fun is a Zappo core value! Retail therapy was at the top of list and then food. KK managed to fill the trunk with birthday gifts for her girls and of course, I managed to find an item or two. The following week, the port was removed and we had cause to celebrate on the drive home. Now, KK could begin thirty radiation treatments. Her school friends celebrated with a "de-portation" party!
Would this never end? People told KK that radiation would be horrible, contrary to what her radiologist was saying. Who was right? You got it…the doctor. Radiation was a piece of cake and has just ended. Another reason to celebrate! KK feels good. Her lovely bald head (yes, this “petite ya-ya” has a perfect head without the distortions the rest of us have) is sprouting dark hair and KK is thrilled. She was afraid her hair might be blonde! I have laughed so hard over the blonde issue because I want to be BLONDE. Her eyebrows and her eyelashes are back and she will be even more stunning the second time around.
KK: this was totally dedicated to you. You have been my inspiration and taught me what is really important. Thank you for allowing me to share your life. Love, Sissy
very bored cats!
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