Better living through chemistry—sometimes a pill provides the solution
EDITOR’S NOTE: In 2013 retired nurse and midwife Mary Buie approached The Expositor with a mission. She had recently been diagnosed with breast cancer and was wondering whether this newspaper would be interested in following her journey as she battled the disease. It was with some trepidation that this paper agreed as the eventual outcome was far from certain to be positive. What followed was an engaging series that leavened a very serious health issue with Ms. Buie’s irrepressible personality. Ms. Buie recently informed The Expositor that she would once again be facing down cancer. The Expositor continues the series ‘Following Hope’s Path’ to relay the ongoing story of her journey.
by Michael Erskine and Mary Buie
KAGAWONG—Dealing with cancer, especially when the prognosis is terminal, can be a real rollercoaster—without much in the way of thrills and way more chills. Mary Buie recently passed through one of the deep troughs. “A bad time,” as she describes it. “I didn’t want to carry on.” Thankfully, things have rebounded considerably. “They are better now,” she assures The Expositor.
“I just recently returned from (son) Neil and Megan’s,” she said. “I have all the personal support workers and everything I needed. I was able to play games with them.”
The challenge she finds these days is the enforced inactivity brought on by the advanced stage of her cancer—with increasing fluid in her lungs she is not able to do much of anything. The result can be very hard on even the most upbeat of personalities. Being a ‘take charge’ personality, Ms. Buie did not accept the growing weight on her outlook from depression.
“I went to see the nurse practitioner,” she said. “She prescribed a happy pill. It works! I have been able to be around and do things—although there is still not much we can do.”
Still, she was able to visit with her son. “I managed to go out to see live music,” she said. “It was a men’s live group at the Western Lodge. It was nice to be able to do that.”
Her last chemotherapy treatment in North Bay recently proved to be something of a nail-biter for all involved. “Before that I had to get PICC lines put in,” she said. PICC lines, that’s ‘peripherally inserted central catheter,’ is a long, thin tube that’s inserted through a vein in the arm and that passes through to the larger veins near the heart. A PICC line gives your doctor access to the large central veins near the heart, explains Ms. Buie. “It allows the medical staff to give you medications or liquid nutrition and helps avoid the pain of frequent needle sticks and reduce the risk of irritation to the smaller veins in your arms.”
Before that was another bevy of bloodwork tests.
Unfortunately, this time around Ms. Buie experienced a very bad reaction. “I just about died,” she said. “I was Code 4, almost departed. Apparently, it had happened before.” Code Priority 4 (or Blue) are those patients with critical and potentially fatal injuries or illness—that means no transportation or treatment until the patient is stabilized.
“After that, I said ‘enough!’” said Ms. Buie. “I am not going to do any more. It is not working, and I just don’t want to do it anymore.”
Ms. Buie did have transfusions of platelets, a common procedure for cancer patients going through chemotherapy, which can destroy bone marrow and thereby lower platelet levels. Bone marrow, a sponge-like tissue found inside bones, contains stem cells that develop into red blood cells, white blood cells and platelets. Platelets, in turn, are small, colourless cell fragments in the blood that form clots and stop or prevent bleeding. Dangerous internal bleeding can occur when platelet counts falls below 10,000 platelets per microliter—and low levels can prove to be fatal.
“I am now under the care of my family doctor,” said Ms. Buie. “If I need them, I can also get packed cells.” Packed cells are red blood cells that have been separated and are used to restore oxygen carrying capacity.
Ms. Buie notes that her radiation treatments have helped immensely, giving her a prognosis of between three to six months. “I am getting a little more fluid in the lungs now, but I am holding my own.”
Her most recent experience in hospital in North Bay left Ms. Buie with a couple of observations she feels it is important for her to pass on. “When I nearly departed, I was moved to the chemo room on the fourth floor,” she said. “There are about 60 beds there. It was basically palliative care. It was a beautiful room, had a fridge in it, which is really important. I moved in Friday afternoon, but when I was feeling better and they were ready to send me home, I was moved to an ‘undesignated area.’ It was basically a staff room. There were four of us and I only had a commode, no access to a bathroom.”
“There were too many people for the facility to handle,” she said of her experience with what is known as hallway medicine. “It was a bit scary.”
Now at home, Ms. Buie was anticipating the arrival of her daughter Jenn and some of the grandchildren. She is able to go outside for a while and is thankful for her brother, who has come by to trim rose and other shrubs, clearing things up in the garden for her. “He’s done a good job,” she pronounced.
“I can stand out there now and see the bulbs coming up,” she said. “They are just peeking up through the ground. Our house is in the sun and the ground warms up early.” The result is the crocuses and daffodils she planted in abundance with her family around the house last year are starting to make an early appearance.
“Now I am just waiting for the kids and the grandkids to show up,” she said. “They will be here for some of the March Break. We are going to have a houseful.”
In the meantime, Ms. Buie invokes God’s blessing upon the many people who continue to offer her prayers and support, as well as those following her journey along Hope’s Path.
“Until next time, God Bless.”
