I’ve hit turbulence with Taxotere. What a ride it has been.
Today is Day 10 of my fourth treatment cycle; I’m just starting to feel better. As I’ve been told, the bounce back time from each chemotherapy cycle increases with each additional treatment. An extra bounce back day has been added to this cycle.
During my Taxotere treatment, my nurse Crystal told me that this drug is prone to reducing white blood cell counts more dramatically than FEC. I believed that because I was already on white blood cell booster medication, I would get through this new cycle of chemo more easily as my blood counts are being boosted. Unfortunately, this would not be true.
On Sunday, I woke up “feeling off”. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I should have been able to recognize the symptoms of low white cell blood counts as I’ve had them before. Naively, I thought that my white cell counts would help me to stay healthy because I have been taking blood cell booster injections.
By Sunday evening I wasn’t getting better. When I went to brush my teeth, I found a white coating inside my mouth. I call to my oncologist’s office the next day resulted in a diagnosis of a throat infection called Thrush--a bacterial mouth infection caused by chemotherapy and low white blood cell counts (a side effect I wasn’t warned about). An anti-fungal prescription to clear the infection was issued.
I went to my Art Therapy class on Monday morning continuing to feel out of sorts with some joint and muscle pain, but pushed past the pain to be in class. By dinner hour that day, I was feeling sick and starting to spike a fever in addition to escalating joint and muscle pain.
With chemo, you’re told that if you are spiking a fever of 38° (after 5:00 p.m. or on weekends) you need to report immediately to the emergency room of your treatment hospital. I called the oncologist on call to check in, and was told that if the fever persisted at 38° for an hour or more then I should take a trip to the emergency ward.
My sister Jen, who is a registered nurse, stayed with me to monitor the fever. My fever bounced just above 38° or just below it for seven hours. Chills and shivers took turns with heat and sweat. It seemed that another infection was brewing and putting me in a dangerous position because of low white blood cell counts and an inability to fight the infection.
As I was already taking pain medication that had acetaminophen in it, when the fever climbed to 38.3° at 11:30 p.m. we made the decision to go to Emergency. It was a trip that I was dreading. Intuitively knew it would not be a short visit from past history with ER. I packed a care bag, which included my daily injections in the event that the visit to the emergency ward would be a long one.
The ER trip matched my dread and intuitive hunch on the length of stay. It was yet another 11-hour visit to emergency. With it came the usual cast of characters waiting to be seen, many appearing to have non-emergent conditions that a family doctor or walk in clinic could have assisted with.
When cancer patients present to emergency wards with a fever, the protocol is that they should be taken in as soon as possible. They are to be placed in a single bed treatment room to isolate them from other sick people in the emergency ward, because of their lowered immunity and inability to fight infection.
That didn’t happen until 7.5 hours later as all of the beds were full all night in the emergency ward. In the absence of an isolated room, I was issued a facemask to help block germs circulating among the patients who were in the waiting room with me. It was a long and tiring wait. I didn’t get any sleep overnight.
After my daily 7:00 a.m. injections, I was finally able to get into a solitary treatment room. In all, the assessment took nearly three hours by the emergency room physician (bouncing between patients) who first apologized for the long wait.
As it turns out, another infection seemed to be in the works somewhere in my body, but lab tests could not pinpoint where. Culture samples were also taken to confirm what kind of infection was building; the results are yet to come.
When a cancer patient has a fever, it is assumed that there is an infection brewing somewhere. No chances are taken to find out what kind of infection is bubbling. The ER physician consulted with my oncologist, resulting in me being immediately put on two types of potent broad-spectrum antibiotics to eliminate the infection.
Within 24 hours, I was put on three new medications. I’m beginning to feel like a walking pharmacy with chemo drugs, blood thinners, blood cell boosters, painkillers, an anti-fungal throat rinse, and anti-biotics all being housed in my body.
Taxotere has been a tough trip in this cancer fight. There are two more chemo treatments with this drug. I continue to persevere in my treatments with Strength, Courage, and Determination.
When I first met my surgeon on March 11 to hear of the results of my biopsy and learned I had breast cancer, he made two comments: it was going to be a rough journey to recovery and my sisterhood of women will be very important to get me through it.
As it turns out, it’s not only been my sisterhood that have kept me grounded, focused on getting better, and ensuring there is more to life than just living with cancer. There have also been a goodly number of guys who likewise mirror similar support to that of the women.
Early on in this blog I named the sisterhood of supporters “The Women Warriors of the Amazon Tribe” who soon were followed by my male warriors “The Action Heroes.” They are my anchors in fighting the cancer battle.
The circle of supporters around me have been phenomenal in this cancer journey, as are the associated concentric circles of caring people that have been supporting my husband, son and daughter-in law, daughter and son-in law, and other extended family members since my diagnosis. I am amazed by the ripple effect cancer creates in the lives of those who journey with me in this disease.
From the earliest days of living with cancer, a group of cancer survivors from amongst family and friends emerged and surrounded me with sage advice on how to armor myself for this battle of life. They have inspired me, and sustained me. Most of all, they uniquely understand the highs and lows of this fight in ways no one else can unless they’ve walked on the cancer battle lines.
Then there is the legion of medical caregivers who have been the guiding lights in my fight for life. Always patient, kind, and caring they have given me a wealth of information and tools to battle cancer mentally, physically, and emotionally. They keep me alive in all aspects of my being.
Today, I am humbly thanking all of these people for the parts they each play in traveling with me in this cancer journey. I learned early on that no one person has the capacity to be all things to a cancer patient. It takes a community of supporters to fill in the many multi-faceted needs a person living with cancer has in their journey to wellness.
My Family of Women Warriors and Action Heroes
Joe, Josh and Jill, Marissa and Bryan: words can never aptly describe your daily love and presence in helping me with all of the emotions and struggles of fighting cancer.
The extended family of Women Warriors and Action Heroes faithfully fill in when there are gaps to fill. Mom, Jen and Mike, Tim and Lorraine, Pat and Jocelyn, Mom Emily, Walter, Theresa, Nestor, Christine, Veronica, Bernie and Lorna, Carolyn & Jordan, Andrea and Benjamin your love and support in all ways is precious.
Aunt Sonia, and cousins Bev and Dave, Kim and John, Lori, Adele and Mike, Myrt and Bob, Lyd, Linda, Pat, Don and Susan—your contacts by phone, email, cards, and visits have boosted my spirits time and time again.
Cancer Survivor Mentors
Friends and family who are cancer survivors hold a special place in my heart. They have been my constant inspiration as they walk with me in this fight for life. They understand the struggles in this battle in ways only cancer patients who have traveled ahead of me can fully comprehend.
Shawnda, Andrea, Jim, Dale, Ron, Barry, Cec, Rosa, Lyd, Adele, Linda, Darlene, Dave, Don and classmates in my Cancer Art Therapy program and cancer yoga class have kept me sane at moments when my world feels likes its falling apart. I know that all I need to do is make a phone call, send an email, or visit with them to keep me grounded and focused in my cancer battle.
Friends, Co-Workers and Colleagues: the Additional “Women Warriors” and “Action Heroes”
This large army of supporters has impeccable timing on when to step in as they walk with me in this cancer journey. My heartfelt thanks go out to all of them.
Friends: Linda and Dave, Marianne and Bert, Jennifer, Luba and Stan, Juliana, Vivian and Izzy, Mike and Anne, Kathleen and Craig, Nicki, Jeannette and Rick, Peter and Joan, Isabel and Wally, Joan and Henry, Lilly and Jim, Derek and Barb, Ray, Jean, Susan, Cathy, Sandy, Kim, Bohdan, Frank, Val, Don & Darlene, Dale and Claudette, Jim, Ray, Diane, Elvia, Chris and Gord
Co-Workers: Shawna, Laura, Zdenka, Laurel, Johanna, Lalie, Monique, Debbie, Audrey, Aileen, Laurel, Jane, Sheila, Rhonda, Alida, Janet, Christine, Eveline, Guizzy, Jan, Lori, Deborah, MaryAnne, Dave, Ernie, Dan, Brian, Brian, Clif, Susan, Holly, Stacie, Jo-Ann, Reagan, Tricia, Oscar, Pam, Gary, Peter, Val, Julie, Jack, David, Ron, Denise, Nancy, Darlene, and Leslie
Colleagues: Lorraine, Norva, Chris, Jeff, Candy, Regan, Rick, Shirley, Ana, Stephanie, Dawn, Jerry, Jacqueline, Doris Mae & Cam, David, Nigel, Keith, Gus, Shirley, Jorge, Marsha, Reis, Gerry, George, Tara, Trudy, Wendy, Adrienne, Kim, Lori, Liz, Sheldon, Steve, Diana, Lisa, Annette, Susan, Barb, Jan, Carol, Cathy, Carolyn, Chris, Dawn, Lesia, Linda, Lori, Lisa, Lori, Marnie, Maria, Kevin, Priscilla, Christa, Robert, Eric, Gay, Sheri, Joyce, John, Sandra, Debbie, Dennis, Glynis, Heather, Terry, Richard, Joanne, and Kara
Concentric Circles of Supporters, Medical Caregivers, Blog Readers and Anonymous Others
Colleagues, co-workers, and friends of family members have formed circles of support around my loved ones. I don’t know many of these supporters but they keep my family members surrounded with care and compassion. To these known and anonymous supporters, thank you for being there for my family. They all speak highly of the help you give them each day as they cope with being family members of a cancer patient.
My medical caregivers number over 20 people from many disciplines. They are the knowledge keepers and practitioners in treating me physically, mentally, and emotionally. They all work together as a team to keep me living.
There are many blog followers and even more readers of this cancer e-journal. Most are well known to me, others are not. I know that the number of readers of this blog is continually growing and the entries are followed from around the world.
Anonymous others range from people who silently support me through prayer groups, blog referrals from readers, and friends of friends. I am continually surprised and humbled in how this cancer diagnosis touches lives far beyond my family and me.
Staying strong in my cancer journey cannot happen without the support of so many people who touch my life daily. They give me the Strength, Courage, and Determination I need to fight so hard to live. I owe them all much gratitude.
In a few days, I will begin a new phase of chemotherapy. Halfway through my chemo treatments, the medicine is being changed to a new concoction for the remaining three cycles of infusions.
The new chemo drug is Taxotere (or Docetaxel), which was originally produced from the needles of the European yew tree and is now created in laboratories. “Taxotere Tuesday” will see me undergo treatment with this new drug. As with other chemo cocktails, this one will likely produce some side effects.
It starts off differently than the chemo of my first three treatments. With Taxotere, I will be taking steroid drugs a day ahead of time to minimize side effects, which include allergic reactions to the chemo drugs and nausea. But unlike the first round of chemo (“FEC”--Fluorouracil-Epirubicin and Cyclophosphamide), this new drug is supposed to have less nausea associated with it.
The downside is that Taxotere has the potential to affect finger and toe nails. I could lose nails, or may experience numbness, tingling, and burning in fingers and toes. It may even change how I walk. Part of my treatment will result in having ice packs placed on my hands and feet to try and minimize these side effects.
Other side effects may include fluid retention, hair loss, and the ever-present chemo fatigue. Taxotere also has the potential to create muscle or joint pain within a few days of treatment.
I can’t use Aspirin or Advil for pain relief due to blood thinners, so Tylenol is the usual drug of choice to alleviate pain. For me, taking Tylenol or Tylenol 3’s is akin to swallowing Smarties-they don’t work. To manage pain, I have been prescribed a narcotic painkiller to have on hand if needed.
My doctor warned me that I would need to fill the prescription within three days of issue otherwise it would be void. As I understand it, this requirement has something to do with controls on issuing of narcotics, which also resulted in me having to sign off on receiving my prescription when it was picked up. The pharmacist that filled the prescription advised that I will be quite dopey with the drug and that I should not drive while using it. It will be interesting to see how my body reacts with this drug when added to compounding chemo fatigue.
The chemo fatigue phenomenon still puzzles me. After nine weeks of treatment, I continue to learn and listen to the fatigue signals in my body. With chemo, there is an undercurrent of fatigue that is always present. You learn to live with being tired, otherwise you would never do anything or have a sense of normalcy in your life.
However, it is a different kind of tiredness than when I’ve been healthy. My experience with chemo fatigue has had fewer warning signs when my body is getting more tired vs. feeling tired when I have been healthy. It’s only after I have done too much in the course of a day that I recognize what chemo fatigue feels like. After a few episodes of doing too much, I am now starting to read the chemo fatigue signals more readily.
These days, my activities are lessening because of the fatigue. The only major activities I may do in a day is a handful of laundry, grocery shop, or prepare dinner. When doing any activities such as these, I get tired more easily and have to rest when they’re done. After dinner visits with family and friends have to end by 9 p.m. as that’s when my body starts powering down rather quickly.
As anyone who knows me will attest, I tend to have a lot of energy and a reputation of carrying on “non-stop” for hours at work and at home. With treatment, I struggle with how little I am able to do each day because of chemo fatigue. I often wonder about the times when I was well and how much I did in a day. I got up early each morning, multi-tasked in a demanding job all day long at work, fit in lunch hour exercise three times a week, and ran a household. I can’t even imagine maintaining this kind of schedule now.
I’m also still learning about other less mentioned side effects of chemo from members of my cancer care treatment team. One of them recently told me that the chemo steroids can affect one’s body in ways other than weight gain and fluid retention. They can make you restless (“More restless than normal?” my husband queried) and they can affect your overnight sleep. Its fairly common with chemo steroids to only get a solid block of three hours of overnight sleep and then fall in and out of sleep until morning. My poor sleeping habits are now starting to make sense because of the effects of chemo.
The chemo journey continues and enters a new phase this coming week. Like with the first three cycles, I say “bring it on.” I will continue to fight cancer with Strength, Courage, and Determination.
This is the 40th blog about my breast cancer journey since I was diagnosed with it in early March this year. It has been the most trying one to write.
Every morning I wake up, look in the mirror, and see a body deformed by cancer. I can’t help it; cancer has been a life-changing experience in every aspect of my life.
Some days it’s easier to accept because I am still alive despite the diagnosis. Other days it’s discouraging, and makes me feel sad because my life is forever changed by cancer.
I didn’t ask for cancer, my own body delivered it to me. I still struggle daily with how to live with this disease.
There are times when it feels like it’s just a bad dream, but then I wake up and realize that it’s not a dream. All I need to do is look at the changes to my body, feel the effects of cancer treatments daily, and remember to attend an array of medical appointments every month.
I know that some of the cancer changes to my body are temporary, and that one day I will be fully restored to a “new normal”. Other changes are permanent. It’s the permanent changes that are hardest to live with.
Part of my body was removed to rid it of cancer. I now wear a breast prosthesis to look normal. My head is hairless. I now wear a cranial scalp prosthesis to look normal. My eyelashes and eyebrows are fading and are starting to fall out. Soon, I will wear artificial eyebrows and eyelashes so that I can look normal. Hopefully, I will be lucky and all of my hair will grow back once treatments end, as some cancer patients face permanent alopecia after treatment.
Maybe I’m paranoid, but when I’m in public, it feels like people stare at me and secretly wonder about my appearance. They likely know that I have cancer, as a hat on a woman’s baldhead is usually a dead giveaway that one is sick. “She must have cancer, poor thing,” I can almost hear them say to themselves. Others give me a smile knowing I’m not well.
Before cancer, I once owned a fit, slim body. With cancer, my abdomen is swollen from daily blood thinner injections and houses a tender band of bruises. Chemo fatigue has created a lack of energy to maintain my former several times weekly rigorous exercise routine. When these factors are married with steroids in the chemotherapy medication, the result is that my body shape is changing. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that this is only a temporary condition.
I’ve lost the trademark “sparkle in my eyes” as the weariness in living with cancer is starting to show in my eyes. My positive spirit has become a resident on an emotional rollercoaster, as I go ride the ups and downs of dealing with this disease.
With this breadth of change going on in my body, I look and feel far from beautiful.
The Look Good Feel Better Program
Perhaps this is why cancer treatment organizations and the cosmetics industry throughout North America have banded together to create the “Look Good, Feel Better” (LGFB) program for female cancer patients. It’s a great program that I attended before our daughter’s wedding earlier this summer.
In the LGFB program, patients are taught techniques for skin care and make up application to look good and feel better, with emphasis on reducing the risk of infection when using cosmetics. The risk of infection arises for cancer patients when they use old contaminated make up. Thus, the LGFB program makes cancer patients discard all of their old make up to reduce their risk of infection with immune compromised bodies.
The cosmetics industry is aware of this hardship, and works with local volunteer cosmeticians and cancer treatment organizations to replace a patient’s old make up with a box full of free cosmetics and skin care creams. The LGFB “prize package” by my estimation is worth $200-300 per patient. It is a nice treat to leave the session with new make up and a new look.
The LGFB program orients patients to look good and feel better, but it’s only a temporary high. The reality of living with cancer sets in soon after the session ends, because you‘re never really free to not think about your illness. Cancer patients are reminded about the condition and how it affects their life every time they look in a mirror.
Cancer Brings Out the Humanity in a Person
Cancer has a way of bringing out the humanity in a person as they journey on the road to getting well. Admittedly, there are times when it is darn difficult to muster the strength I need to battle this dreadful disease.
There are times when I live with cancer that make me feel numb to the outside world, and to the inner world of my feelings. I have started to experience cancer overwhelm moments where I “zone out” and have a temporary memory lapse. For a few brief seconds, I don’t know where I am and shake my head to get back to reality. At these times, I feel at a loss in how to live with cancer. I want to hide in the safety and familiarity of my home.
Most days, I feel strong, confident, and know that I can conquer this disease. Then there are days when I feel weak, and am looking to wave a white surrender flag. Fortunately, the good days far outnumber the bad days. The loving support of those who care about me is critical in this cancer combat.
Somehow I’m getting through the tough times, but honestly I don’t know how. Getting through this cancer journey is no longer a day-by-day survival, many days it’s an hour-by-hour survival.
The expressed love of others in daily phone calls, emails, cards, prayers, and visits sustain me in living with cancer and the treatments I am undergoing. Daily, I look forward to the various forms of contact from people who show that they care. These simple gestures mean the most to me as I battle this disease.
Many days my “wellness” well is dry. These gestures add water to my life-giving well. They lift my spirits and assure me that although I am away from others—be it family, friends, colleagues, and co-workers, they have not forgotten to walk alongside me in this difficult journey.
I draw strength from this wellness well each day as I am challenged daily to find ways to replenish the life-giving water that is so needed to fight this disease. With the love of others, I am committed to refreshing my life and spirit day after day with Strength, Courage, and Determination.
I thought that after two rounds of chemo, I’d pretty much know all the side effects. I was wrong.
The third chemo cycle has whacked with a whammy.
Each chemo treatment has presented slightly different side effects from the previous one. With chemo #3, it’s been more than a slight difference on this seventh day of my treatment cycle. I now understand what other cancer patients say about getting through chemo and how it gets tougher as you advance through more treatments.
With the first and second chemo infusions, I would feel rough on day three. By the eve of day four, I was bouncing back to better energy levels and stronger emotional and physical health. By day five, I could feel that I was slowly starting to get better.
It came as quite a surprise that this third chemo session has hit as hard as it has these past few days. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, as medical professionals treating cancer patients tell them that chemo side effects are cumulative as more of the medicine stays in their system after each infusion.
Yesterday, I was one-third through this current chemo cycle. I have yet to bounce back to better energy levels and stronger emotional and physical health. I am now getting familiar with chemo fatigue.
As a cancer patient, you are well educated about chemo fatigue, but you really don’t know what it’s like until you start to experience it. I am now experiencing it.
Chemo fatigue makes you feel more than just tired. There is lethargy with chemo fatigue - a mental, emotional, and physical tiredness. There are times when you literally struggle to move your body, even if its just a few steps or climbing a set of stairs. Your memory tends to fail you with all of the chemo drugs in your body.
This third chemo cycle has redefined sleep deprivation in my life. I have never been a good sleeper, but it’s gotten much worse while living with cancer and chemo.
With the lack of sleep, a side effect of the chemo that has arisen is clogged sinuses. With this chemo cycle, my head has been stuffing up at the end of each day as if I had a bad cold. Overnight, I will reach points where I can’t breathe because I am so stuffed up. It forces me to wake up several times a night to hydrate my mouth. The ongoing “chemo dry mouth,” is now further compounded because of mouth breathing with clogged sinuses. The head cold symptoms do pass once I get up and move around.
Presently, a “good” night’s rest will have me sleep three solid, uninterrupted hours. Any sleep time after that is a bonus. The bad part of all of this is that I have never been a napper, so catching up on sleep during the day seldom happens. Maybe it will with advancing chemo fatigue.
Throughout my cancer journey, I have been emotionally strong until these past few days of chemo cycle #3. There is now an emotional frailty that has unexpectedly crept in with this third chemo cycle. The littlest day-to-day things can set off a river of tears that rise up in me from nowhere.
I’m also acquiring new fears because of the many treatment related complications that have beset me. I have to be selective in where I go in public places due to cleanliness concerns that can pose an infection with my chemo-lowered immunity. I also have to watch my contact with people who may be sick as they too are an infection risk, so my social life is affected. These concerns, when combined with the various chemo complications make me want to stay close to home, rather than be out for any extended period of time. Consequently, I am becoming more selective on where I go, and with whom I spend time.
However, one of the biggest whammies with this chemo cycle is the loss of appetite, which has really shaken me. Until now, I’d been feeling well enough to eat and enjoy most foods while undergoing treatment. This is a perplexing phenomenon for me. For a foodie, this loss of appetite is disconcerting. It comes with a reduced sense of smell and taste, accompanied by a constant acidy-metallic dry taste in my mouth. Many foods now disagree with me.
From when I rise to when I turn in at the end of the day, I have no desire to eat anything. I don’t have the smallest scrap of an appetite. My stomach hurts because it’s empty, but food is unappetizing—especially raw fruits and vegetables, acidy foods, and any kind of meat. I literally have to force myself to eat. For anyone, food is fuel, but its even more critical for cancer patients to repair chemo damaged cells with proper nutrition.
It’s a new chapter of struggle in this cancer journey. Each day, I make a vow to renew this cancer fight with Strength, Courage, and Determination.
This week marks closing one chapter in my cancer chemo treatments and lays the groundwork for opening a new chemo chapter in the next few weeks.
I have finished my first set of three chemotherapy injections. As I had been forewarned, this round of chemo is taking a while longer for me to bounce back from due to the cumulative effect chemo has on one’s body.
Today is chemo day #4. I am still feeling a bit nauseated and out of sorts. In the last two chemo cycles of chemo, today’s out of sorts day would have been day three. With each successive chemo cycle, one can expect to add another day to recovery, so after today’s out of sorts day, tomorrow should have me feeling better.
Three chemo treatments are now finished with the first phase of treatments. Three more are to come with a new cycle of chemo drugs. The next three cycles of chemo will be harder to endure as the injected cocktail will be harsher on my body than the first one.
I will be required to pre-medicate before treatment as the potency of Taxotere—my next chemo drug--has more side effects and possible allergic reaction than the first compound, so medication is used in advance to minimize complications.
The three cycles of the second chemotherapy drug will be hard on finger and toe nails, so I will be supplied with ice packs for my hands and feet to offset the possible loss of nails with treatment. As well, Taxotere can create painful side effects in joints and muscles, which is the side effect most cancer patients say is hardest to deal with in receiving this cancer-fighting drug.
I also met this week with my radiation oncologist who advised that I would need 16 rounds of targeted radiation for the last phase of aggressive breast cancer treatments.
The daily rounds of radiation will be 15 minutes each and will start six weeks after my last chemo cycle in November. I can expect to be in radiotherapy before Christmas this year and running into mid January. Supposedly the side effects are much lessened than those with chemotherapy, although I can expect some minor discomfort in the treatment area akin to sunburn.
Today also marks the start of the next round of Neupogen white cell count booster injections so that my chemotherapy can continue on schedule. By next Thursday, the injections will be over for this chemo cycle, so I am looking forward to not having to contend with muscle and joint pain for a few days when the needles are done.
As predicted, chemo is slowly starting to get tougher to get through. I am feeling a bit more fatigued than the last cycle, which I am told is a normal reaction. I feel a need to rest and sleep more.
As the chemotherapy continues to accumulate in my body, I am learning more about slowing down and listening to my body. I move on more slowly in my treatments and do so with Strength, Courage, and Determination.
As I write this blog, the smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the house. I’ve returned to the pleasure of making home made bread today to amuse myself while under treatment. It’s one of my boredom busters.
There is something soulful about baking bread from scratch and smelling it throughout the house as it rises and bakes on this late summer day.
I took on making bread today because I feel quite well in this third week of my second chemo treatment. I am counting down to my third chemo session next Tuesday, which will be halfway through this second stage of fighting cancer.
Living with a cancer diagnosis seems so far away as I get lost in baking for a few hours today. It is a joyful time. I’ve been waiting to do this for some time, as my right (dominant) arm hasn’t been strong enough to bake bread since before my mastectomy this past spring. I am thoroughly savoring the experience.
While combines ride over Manitoba fields harvesting wheat, oats, rye, and barley at this time of year, I’m reading recipes that don’t use any of the flours made from these grains for the baking I am doing. Unfortunately, my gluten intolerance disallows using of any of these wonderful grains in baking.
Instead, my culinary flours come mostly from far away places, some with exotic sounding names. Recipes I am using today will comprise of several combinations of flours including: amaranth, sweet rice, garfava bean, sorghum, chickpea, urad (black lentils), corn, quinoa, brown and white rice, coconut, mesquite, potato, soy, bajra (millet and rice), buckwheat, millet, teff, and tapioca.
Ground almonds and flax, potato, corn, and tapioca starches, sunflower, pumpkin, millet, sesame, chia and poppy seeds, honey, cider vinegar and maple syrup will round out the recipes and add delightful tastes to the breads that will be made. Because gluten free flours don’t bind dough or batter the way gluten does, xanthan or guar gum will be used to do so.
The lack of gluten also means that one bakes bread without kneading dough, relying on drop batter to form breads. There is a definite knack in baking with gluten free flours, and after several years and many recipes later, I am finally starting to master the art of gluten free baking.
Today’s baking will result in breads that are healthier and tastier than any gluten free breads I can find locally in stores, and far less costly. By the end of the baking session, I will have made savory, dessert, and sandwich breads. All of them will taste quite similar to their equivalents made with traditional flours, but their texture will be slightly different.
Breakfast tomorrow will be a treat as gluten free foods can make the first meal of the day a challenge!
More Boredom Busters
Yesterday, I bid adieu to several pots of summer flowers that surrendered to this year’s growing season. They were no longer able to endure the long stretches of scorching heat, downpours of rain and gusty winds that we’ve experienced these past few weeks. By Labor Day, I expect that the rest of the patio flowerpots will have also surpassed their summer glory.
It was nice to have something concrete to do to take away the boredom for part of the day.
Yesterday’s weather was a pleasant change with lower temperatures. I welcomed the lower temperature, as I was finally able to be outside comfortably. The blood thinner and chemo drugs I am on make tolerating hot weather and humidity difficult, and there is a heightened sensitivity to sunburn while under chemo treatment. However, yesterday’s air felt like a whiff of fall outside with a daytime high temperature of +17.
As I worked and looked around the yard and neighborhood, the signs of summer ending are surfacing everywhere. Slowly, summer is drawing to a close.
Early morning dew was on the windshields of vehicles parked outside. Some leaves in our back yard are starting to turn yellow. The return of wasps around our windows is a sure sign that late summer has arrived. In the near future, we will have our first frost, signaling that summer is over. Next week, schools will open their doors to welcome this year’s classes of students. Cocooning for colder weather isn’t far away…
Yesterday also marked a return to part of my past.
It’s been over 20 years since my sewing machine and I were well acquainted. It took me two weeks to get my courage up and convince myself that sewing might be a good boredom buster, as I find ways to occupy my time from now until next summer when I may be able to return to work.
As with anything new that I undertake in life, I need to spend some time ruminating about what I want to do and how to tackle the project. I also need to prepare to get the things I need in place before I start a project. Getting reacquainted with my sewing machine was no different.
So, I’ve spent the last two weeks in and out or fabric and second hand stores scouring for supplies. Our dining room and spare bedroom have been converted into sewing and sewing storage stations.
I will ease into projects that were once familiar by using cheaper materials until my comfort level rises, and I have once again mastered the intricacies of sewing and using my machine. The last time I sewed extensively was over 20 years ago when my kids were small and I was a stay-at-home mom.
My goal with returning to sewing is to learn how to quilt so that I can make tapestry quilts. It has been something I have wanted to do for a very long time, but didn’t have the chance to do so while raising a family and building a career over the past three decades. My cancer diagnosis is giving me a chance to do something that was put on hold for a long time.
With chemo being an unpredictable experience with each treatment, it would be difficult to attend classes to learn how to quilt. I’ll learn the art through self-teaching using two new “how to quilt” books I purchased.
Eventually, I will have to figure out what to do with the stockpile of items that will be made. Ten months is a long time to be productive with a sewing machine! My daughter says I should open an on-line store on an artisan web site. Perhaps this could take care of the “mental” challenge that’s missing for me with treatments. It might be fun to create a business plan to do so.
With September upon us next week, I have enrolled in two classes for cancer patients that start next month. One class is in art, the other in yoga. Both are new experiences for me. The classes are designed to give patients alternatives in learning to live with their disease, and provide tools to manage the stress that comes with a life-threatening diagnosis.
I look forward to the changing of the seasons, my new classes, and the challenges that lie ahead in finding things to keep me occupied. I continue to walk on this cancer journey with Strength, Courage, and Determination.