4 down 8 to go

UPDATE: I had what felt like the stomach flu for the rest of the day. It started right after I posted this. I think I jinxed myself...doh.

This time, I refused the steroids. Best. Decision. Ever. Now I can actually feel what's happening in my body without all the noise from a monkey mind (see post below).

And on this 2nd day I can tell you exactly what I'm feeling: tired. All my bones are made of lead kind of tired.

So I have only 3 things on my list to do today, one of which is done. (Mmmmm...coffee tastes good) Anything extra is gravy. I give myself permission to honor this fatigue.

If you need anything, I'll be on the couch, or on my log chair outside, doing very little. With a big smile. And a sigh of relief.

Round 2 - 1 of 12

In breaking news: I'm not nauseous!

For these next 12 treatments I'll be receiving Taxol every week. Among the biggest side effect women report is tingling in the hands and feet. Among the least reported side effects: nausea. 

I've heard this, from my Dr and the Nurses but didn't really buy into it. I wanted to experience it first hand. And viola! Here I am. I can't tell you how relieved I am. 

Maybe the other side effects will rear their ugly heads after these steroids wear off, and I'll keep you posted on that. But after feeling like I lived on a boat traveling over rough seas for 3 months I can honestly say that a little weakness and tingling sounds aok. 

One complaint I will report isn't about the Taxol at all, but about the premeds. 

I have to get crap-load of Benadryl intravenously because Taxol often causes severe allergic reactions. Luckily, I can tolerate the Taxol. I was less than able to tolerate feeling like I had just slammed a 12 pack of Miller Light and then given a rufi. It came on rather suddenly, made me feel really sick and lasted about an hour.

Since I tolerated the Taxol though they said that they will cut the Benadryl in half next time. So just a 6 pack next time then and maybe no rufi...?

Lastly, a word to those kind people who have agreed to accompany me to treatments over these next 11 weeks...we didn't get out of there until 5:15 pm. 

I think subsequent treatments will go quicker now that I've got the first one under my belt, but I wanted to let you know. This way, if there are conflicts with your family's schedule you can recuse yourself. Know that I totally understand if this is the case and that I love you.

Portal

Today I had a port installed for my next round of treatments. I have 2 freshly minted scars: one on my neck and one on my chest. The one on my neck, I didn't expect and it was a bit jarring, to be honest.

The surgery itself wan't so bad. Not eating for many hours and then being woken up from the best sleep I've had in weeks were the worst parts.

The port will make my life less painful for the next 12 weeks. So this is a case of my present self helping my future self.

One last thing, bendy straws wielded by Bryan contain the most refreshing drinks. Just saying.

Oh where are you...?

This last treatment marked the half-way point for me, and it was time for a scan. A little how-we-doin check-in ultrasound.

The tech who did the ultrasound and the doctor who read the scans were the same team who I saw three months ago. The same team who discovered the 3 tumors and lymph involvement.

This time, there was not a tumor in sight and the lymph node looked very unexciting. Quite normal actually.

While I can't be sure that the cancer is no longer in my body (only a PET scan could confirm this) I do know that no visible tumors and a normal looking lymph node is wonderful news.

So what next? Do I get to hop on a plane to Tulum this weekended to celebrate by sunbathing and toasting to my everlasting good health?

Not quite yet.

I still have 3 months of chemo to make it through. Then surgery. Then 6 weeks of radiation.

While the common cold may be more annoying (see previous post) the recovery time is way faster. Cancer is a lot of things. Speedy isn't one of them.

Sigh.

And the award for the most irritating chemo side effect goes to....

...drum roll please....

My constantly running nose.

Bryan said my nose is making up for all the work my feet aren't doing as of late.

But I'm not buying it.

PETt'ed

Finally, the results from the PET scan are back.

Good news people: the cancer is isolated to my right breast and right lymph nodes; and hasn't spread into my organs or any where else.

In other words, I have lazy cancer.

Fight for the Cure

Every single person reading this and every single person they know and love this has suffered greatly from this epidemic.

It can strike you down no matter how many hot yoga classes you attend or how organic your food is. Every moment of every day this beast is lying in wait to attack your healthy body and turn you into an immobile lump in your bed. Today I am calling BS on public enemy #1: the common cold.

Worse than cancer, the recurrence factor is 100% certain and it affects everyone on the planet.

We cannot--should not--rest until this demon is quelled once and for all. Who’s with me?

Small Plans

Spoiler alert – the following post contains mention of vomiting, hair loss and loss of taste and not in the context of the morning after a long night in Vegas. You have been warned.

Since having cancer I have never had so many people openly comment on my breast size, “Since your breasts are so small, we will have to do this rather than that.” This is said at pretty much every appointment.

I heard it yesterday from my medical oncologist. He said, removing a 3cm section from a larger breast wouldn’t really have a cosmetic effect. However, removing the same section from small breasts, such as yours, will most certainly have a cosmetic effect.

Which is why, along with the Tumor Board in my town, he recommended that I have chemo first to shrink the size of the tumors. Chemo will also off-set the little trip this cancer has taken into my lymph nodes (plural). Thereafter, surgery will take out the effected tumors and nodes. Then, for good measure, I’ll get zapped with Radiation.

Chemo is scheduled to start the day after my birthday. Maybe I’m being petty, but I don’t want to have my first treatment on my birthday. Remember Jesus? Even he decided to have a last supper. I’m going to do the same while I can still taste the food I’m eating.

Yea, you read that right. Chemo is like a nuclear bomb to your body. Pretty much any pleasurable physical experience you can think of is eliminated by the application of chemotherapy. This includes turning off those little bumps on the tongue that allow taste to happen. Out of all the things the doctor went over yesterday, this one was the most disturbing to me: not being able to taste.

I’m also not all that excited about the hair loss. Don’t get me wrong, I love bald heads (hey baby!); I just don’t love that my head will be bald. I guess I can just be thankful that I get to shop for scarves, hats and a couple wigs. Maybe I should be like Mr. Potatohead and get angry hair? (If you’ve watched Toy Story 2 you know what I’m referring to.)

Last but not least on the list of sucky things: vomiting. When I was 30 I basically decided to stop drinking because every time I had even one glass of wine, I would vomit. I don’t know what was up with that, but for a year I made that adjustment and viola! no more vomiting. Then, fast forward 5 years. During the 1^st trimester of my pregnancy I projectile vomited on what seemed like every block in New York City. I’m sure my neighbors thought I was a complete deviant. It was awful. Truly.

All of this is to say, when taking chemo every enjoyable thing about having a body is replaced by almost every pain you can imagine. And then a few more, just like the cherry on top.

Just Be Negative

The results are in: the genetic test is negative for cancer. My genes are clean.

Because of this, the chance of recurrence is much lower and the treatment might even be tolerable. Ok, rose colored glasses on that last one. But this is very welcomed good news. 

One point for me.

Remember that lymph node though? That thing is full of cancer. As are those other two lesions. 

Doh ~ one point for cancer.

Does this mean me and cancer are even now?

Bad things do come in 3's

The MRI and mammogram results are in: the scans are clean. Yea, you read that correctly, no tumor in sight.

I don't know about you but when I heard that, I secretly thought, "that was the easiest case of cancer I've ever heard of. It lasted about 2 weeks and I really didn't feel a thing. Wow, that wasn't so bad." Big sigh of relief.

Not so fast. 

As it turns out, some tumors won't show up on a mammogram or an MRI. Its rare, but it does happen. It happens more commonly in women with small dense breast tissue. Let me clarify something here, dense breast tissue is common in young women. Old women, not so much. 

At the ripe old age of 40 you would think I wouldn't have such problems, namely the breasts of a much younger woman, but there you have it. The tissue in my breasts is so dense that its more or less opaque. 

Getting an image of what's going on inside such dense breast tissue is kind of like driving in fog. Your lights are on and you know there's a car ahead, but you can't really see it. Get closer though, and there it is. Kind of like it appeared out of nowhere. 

Well, in this case, when the doctor pulled her car up to my tumor to get a better look via MRI and mammogram, she couldn't see anything. She was still too far away.

When she hopped into her ultrasound though, out of nowhere she saw the original tumor and two additional ones. A little off to the side, she saw something else which she very scientifically labeled as suspicious. The suspicious thing is one of the lymph nodes under my arm. 

I'm not sure if it was the shifty eyes of that particular node that made her feel so uneasy, or if it looks like it's filled up with cancer. Either way though, having a body part labeled as suspicious is never a good sign.

And, just to cheer this post right up, it became clear to me this morning that having more children will not be an option for me. My insurance doesn't cover the cost of freezing eggs and eggs don't like being hard boiled by cancer treatments. 

AND, on top of all this, I really need to go to the grocery store. 

I'm at a low point right now. I freaking hate shopping.

Update

I saw my surgeon today. What she told me was, I can survive this. That was nice to hear but then she got down to business: We are in the information gathering stage.

I've got more tests tomorrow, I'll give you a hint about which one I have to get first thing tomorrow morning (check a couple posts back). If genetically predisposed to cancer, then the treatment will be aggressive. If not, it will be more simple. Those test results take 5-10 working days to come back. The surgeon strongly suggests not doing anything until we have this information. Measure twice, cut once and all of that.

The other thing I'm having tomorrow is an MRI, the results of which will be returned tomorrow. In that test, they are looking to see if there are any more tumors and to get a good look at the one that we know is there. One report says its 1.1 cm while another says 1.5. She needs good data in order to know where to cut and how much to cut. I want squeaky clean edges all around where she cuts because that means she got all the cancer.

So, we are still in a holding pattern. Until all the information is compiled, I won't know some important things:

• Date of the surgery
• The nature of the surgery: just the tumor (my preference), or the whole breast
• If the cancer is isolated or if it has migrated outside of the breast into the lymph nodes (this information determines what 'stage' the cancer is)
• If having chemo would be helpful (radiation is extremely likely for my type of cancer, so that's a sure bet)
• The extent of just how shitty this whole thing will be

Here's what I do know for certain right now:

• I am feeling the love and support from you all
• All that love is sooooo helpful for me, you have no idea
• I love you guys to
• Really and truly
• I do not however, love pink. Sorry about this last one, but I've gotta keep it real.

Love and Muah

Better Reception

I just spoke with my OB who gave me some additional information about my biopsy. 

I have positive receptors for both estrogen (72%) and progesterone (91%) and am negative for the HER2 receptor. 

Why does this matter? Read all about it here:

http://health.nytimes.com/health/guides/disease/breast-cancer/prognosis.html

 

Here’s a relevant excerpt from the article:

“Hormone receptor-positive cancer is also called "hormone sensitive" because it responds to hormone therapy such as tamoxifen or aromatase inhibitors.

Women have a better prognosis if their tumors are hormone receptor-positive because these cells grow more slowly than receptor-negative cells. 

In addition, women with hormone receptor-positive cancer have more treatment options. Recent declines in breast cancer mortality rates have been most significant among women with estrogen receptor-positive tumors, due in part to the widespread use of post-surgical hormone drug therapy.”

In other words, according to my receptors, I’m not totally screwed. I may even live through this. Imagine that. Wonder what that’s gonna be like?

 

 

Don't try this at home

My tumor is 1.5 centimeters. It’s small enough to be considered small, big enough though to warrant lots of concern, worry, fits of crying followed by fits of laughter, followed by complete disbelief.

About 3-ish weeks ago when we were lying in bed, Bryan had his arm around me and felt something. I protested and said it was my rib but he showed me what he was talking about. It was definitely not my rib.

That week I made an appointment to see my OB, have her take a look. She said what she felt was not a concern, but she did want me to have a diagnostic mammogram. 

They took images and did an ultrasound. On the ultrasound the mass was clearly visible and not round.

The technician who did the ultrasound was about 6 months pregnant and when she told me I would have to come back for a biopsy, her face looked terrified. Her every word was like an apology, even though she was talking about appointment times and telling me not to wear deodorant or perfume on the day of the procedure.

Fast forward a week, the day of the biopsy. Bryan and I head over and I get  to lay on a table while a person who had Dr. in front of his name takes away a piece of me. 

We both came away fairly certain he had never seen a live patient before. During the procedure the local anesthetic didn’t work and when he was finished he apologized for hurting me. I kept my eyes closed or on Bryan and didn’t say anything. What could I say with my fists balling up at my sides and my teeth clenched?

Afterward I tried not to think about it. The obligatory 2-3 business day wait for the results wasn’t all that bad, truthfully. During that time I kept busy and distracted. What else could I do? Do you know how grateful I am to have such a fun person to be distracted by? Bryan made it easier to wait. When I’m with him on the couch or in the yard, I feel normal. Less like a ticking time bomb and more like myself.

After the 3 business days, that would be yesterday, I had almost convinced myself that it was nothing. When I got the results, my brain just blurred and shut down. I felt like someone was sucking all the air out of my body while at the same time stepping on me.

I have cancer. I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared. I don’t want to die.

My son, my little buddy, needs his mama. And I need him. I want to see what he will be when he grows up. How he will move through grade school and adolescence. I want to be there for him every step of the way. I don’t want to miss out on anything. Mostly though, I don’t want to burden him with a motherless childhood. I can’t break his little heart like that.

And then there’s Bryan. I can’t wait to see the love of my life every day for the rest of forever. In that sentence, I always thought of forever as being at least 40 more years together, earth-side. Bryan deserves my time, whatever I have left. 

The both of them do.

So if I don’t call or text you back please know that I’m with them giving what I have to give now for however long I can give it. I’ll need you though so don’t stop calling me or texting or stopping by if you’re in my hood.

I can’t do this alone. When the shit hits the fan with surgery, which I will have to have, and maybe Chemo, which I may have to have, I’ll need you. All of you.

I don’t know what Stage the cancer is yet. If I’m exceptionally lucky it will not be in my lymph nodes, and that’s what I’m hoping for. I’m hoping for Stage 1. Anything more advanced makes the recovery time longer and the prognosis worse. So, here’s to the best worst news I can get. I’ll find out when I have surgery, which, at this time has not been scheduled.

I’ll keep you posted on it all though.

One last thing worth mentioning - this blog is rated PG: you will see copious amounts of 4 letter words, references to drinking, self-medicating and I may possibly mention the existence of sex. My apologies in advance for offending your delicate sensibilities if any of these items is offensive.

Love and Muah.

 

 

Yikes

Today I was informed that I have Invasive Ductal Carcinoma grade 2. If you want to keep up with what's happening, bookmark this blog.

At this time we don't know anything else. Once we see the surgeon on Oct 29th we will know more.