Let the good times roll

Newsflash: there are no weekends off from cancer. Which, in my view, is worse than working during the summer. Just sayin. 

I think I'll go clean and organized my house now. Good times.

Letting Go

Do these genes make me look like I have cancer?

Do you know about genetic testing for cancer? You may have heard of it after an upstart named Angelina Jolie had the test.

Let me simplify what this test is: it is a blood draw. Normally that takes oh, 15 minutes tops. Easy peesey. I'm in and out on my lunch break, right? Right?

Wrong. Think of this test as a combination between a blood draw and an after school special. There is counseling and an educational video which will answer all of your questions.

Well I do have a burning question: why does my son's lunch box smell like the interior of an old gym shoe? I'm pretty sure that this 2 hour appointment won't answer that question. And I have others also, but I digress.

And to the genetic counselor, I hate to steal your thunder, and I'm not sure if they broke the news to you: but I actually have cancer. I know this may come as a shock to you, it did for me. You'll get through this though, I swear.

Also, just a thought here, the test takes 2 weeks to get results back, right? And not for nothing, but I'm dealing with some heavy shit over here (see lunchbox question above). By the time I get this shit back I'm going to have forgotten 99% of what you said. So perhaps you can just alert me if I have, like, more cancer? And we can skip the after school freaking special?

People, I have to draw the line somewhere. 2 hours for a blood draw so I can hear how screwed I'm gonna be if this gene or that one comes back bright red and burning with the impure fires of cancer...? Um, naaa.

Lastly, if I hear one more person mention Angelina Jolie I'm gonna choke someone. While I am flattered that you'd think to draw the comparison, she has way better shoes.

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.