Monthly Archives: December 2023

The Waiting Game

Breast Cancer, Cancer Sucks, Change, Honesty

There are comfort zones you get into in life. Whether it be a job, a relationship, a lifestyle, etc. They always last for a certain amount of time… 1 year, 5 years, 7 years or more. But in my experience, no matter how long a comfort zone streak lasts, all good things must come to an end. That doesn’t mean you won’t find a new comfort zone, but it may be disruptive, no matter how big or small, as you transition to the next one.

In my 44 years of living, I’ve noticed that my comfort zones last approximately 7 years. Give or take a few years. I won’t count basic childhood years because that’s just a series of disruptions no matter how you look at it. Once I graduated from college, the 7-year phases began. At the end of college, when I was 21, I met my now ex-husband. It was all fun and dreams for 7 full years. We got married at 28. We had a child at 29, and before I knew it, the 30s slapped me in the face with a 7-year streak of learning how to parent. I had a second child one week before turning 36. 7 years of dating, 7 years of marriage/parenting, followed by a new 7-year streak of figuring out my marriage was sham, divorce, and learning how to live on my own with two kids. Not to mention I had a career change in there.

As I enter 2024, after 7 years of figuring out how to navigate this “new” divorced life, I’m now being thrust into another life. No matter what the circumstances in my life, I’ve always been “healthy”. Not being able to define myself as healthy is really throwing me for a loop. Getting up to drink coffee, go to work, take care of kids as usual, and not be considered a healthy person is really messing with me. I feel fine, I’m interacting with everyone fine, but… I’m not fine?

This waiting game from one phase to a next is about as psychotic as it gets. Telling someone they have cancer, but not doing anything about it for 2 full months seems like insanity. Today is Dec 29th. In exactly one month, I have 1-week post-op appointment with my oncologist. I’m not counting down the days to my surgery on Jan 22nd. I’m counting down the days to Jan 29th, when they tell me my recommended fate after my surgery. Surgery is like this big distraction leading up to the actual results that dictate how my next 7 years may or may not go.

I’m not excited to see what’s behind the next curtain. I’d rather the cancer curtain stay shut forever, but I guess this is the next leap out of a comfort zone for me. I want to say things happen for a reason, but that sounds like a load of radiant rainbow bullshit right now. So for the next 30 days I will be going to more appointments and preparing my kids and my work for my healing process. I kick off the New Year with a trip to the plastic surgeon on Jan 2nd. Goody goody gum drops.

I’m not going to be 100% positive. I’m going to be realistic with sprinkles of positivity and challenge-coping in between. I don’t plan on making some big “I’m going to beat this” statement, because I fully plan on living to be at least 92 and a half, plus I know this cancer was caught fairly early and is highly treatable. I just know it’s going to be a change from what I’m used to. I’m used to being 100% in control of every aspect of my life, and this is going to cause me to rely on others, which sounds like a damn nightmare.

It’s time to hurry up and wait for the next 30 days.

Stifle Me Not

Rollercoaster Ride

Breast Cancer, , , ,

I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster I did not sign up to ride. I’ve been feeling pretty good mentally and emotionally about moving forward with surgery in January. I’ve been researching what to expect post-surgery and trying to mentally prepare myself. That’s how I operate, the more I know, the less shock, the better I can deal with it. I’m even okay with not having all the information so I can adjust to expecting the unexpected. I can handle surprises along the way, but for some reason my first visit to the oncologist punched me in the face and sent me spiraling.

Leading up to the oncologist appointment, I’ve been in a world of distractions. I hadn’t thought about it too much. I jotted down some questions to ask, but to me it was just another appointment. I ended up with the flu after my son had it last weekend, so I dealt with the 3-day fever and focused on getting back to work. I met with my surgeon over the phone because I couldn’t go in for the appointment due to my fever. She explained my MRI results more and the surgery plan – what to expect and what is to be determined after further testing up to a week after my surgery. She answered every question to the best of her ability.

On Thursday, I went to work as usual and left early for my 3 pm oncologist appointment. My mom was waiting for me in the parking lot. I’m so grateful for my mom. She talks a lot, but she’s really trying to be there for me. She’s a good distraction while we wait in the waiting rooms because she talks about the craziest stuff. And this time was no different. We got checked in, led back to the exam room, and waited for what seemed like forever for the oncologist. I was asked the same questions I’m always asked over and over – medication list, etc, etc.

My oncologist, a petite Indian woman in her mid 50s, walked in and began the appointment. She spoke quietly, studied my chart quite a bit, asked a few questions, did a quick exam, and basically told me more of what I already knew – that I’d have to wait for post-surgery pathology results to return in order for her to be able to make a plan. She basically ran through a few potential plans, but kept ending it with, “but we’ll have to wait for your results”. At the end, my mom innocently asked “if she were to have chemo, how long would that process be?”

The doctor, with her face mask covering most of her expression, so I could only see the serious look in her eye said, “6 months”. She said, “it will be very strong, and it would be every two weeks for 6 months.” There was no hesitation to this response. There was no maybe this or maybe that, it was a very direct and definitive response.

Well shit.

I was happily digesting all information until that point. And then my brain malfunctioned into a soggy mess. My mom sat there with her mouth open for what seemed like eternity, while I fought back tears. I can’t tell you what else was said in that appointment. She ordered me two more tests to get and was on her way, said she was going on a trip to India and would be back after the New Year. The next time I’ll see her is a week after my surgery, when she decides the best treatment plan for me. Everyone left the room, and I cried while I got changed back into my clothes. My mom tried to hug me. I walked my tear-stained face to the appointment desk to make three more appointments in January: Bone density test, CT scan, follow up visit to oncologist. I feel like I need a personal assistant to help with all of my upcoming appointments.

I’m not sad for me. Obviously, I want to be healthy, but all I can think about is how my health is going to negatively impact my kids. They are 14 and 8. I physically do a lot to take care of them. I literally don’t sit down until about 8 pm every night after very full days. I was prepared for a 4-to-6-week recovery time from surgery. That feels very temporary. But to realize that my New Year could be completely eaten up with cancer treatments that are going to exhaust and deplete me (after finally recovering from surgery) is so disheartening and just makes me sad that I’ll be a burden. My parents are in their mid to late 60s. They already raised me, I don’t feel like they should have to take care of me. I then get furious at my ex-husband. I should be his mess. He should be taking care of me and the kids. I called him crying on my drive home from the appointment to let him know of the possibilities I just heard. I don’t expect him to take care of me, but he needs to step it up with our children. He didn’t say much, mostly tried to tell me “we’ll figure it out.”

Ugh. I got home and got my kids in the car, drove to meet my ex so they could be with their dad for the next couple of days. I ordered Indian food for pick up and came home to watch a movie and eat. Nothing tasted good. The movie ended up having a woman in it that got breast cancer and died. Seriously? I cannot make this up.

All I can do is pray. I have no control over anything. I’m supposed to be on this rollercoaster for some reason that remains to be seen. If I had no Faith, this would be much worse. It brings me peace when I’m spiraling. I’m a planner, but long-term goals are not in my view right now. So I’m going to go short-term and concentrate on enjoying Christmas with my loving family.

Stifle Me Not

This Would Be Easier if I Didn’t Think So Much

Breast Cancer, Overthinking

This week I went for an MRI. I’ve never had one before, and I will not forget the experience in that freezing dim hospital basement. I knew an MRI could be a claustrophobic experience, but the loud noises (even with ear plugs) were so shocking to me. It was a full half hour of loudness while I laid as still as possible and thought every thought imaginable. I was worn out after that.

I already have an appointment lined up next week to discuss the MRI results, so it came as a complete surprise when a nurse called the very next day to tell me the results. They returned in less than 24 hours. It was both great, and not so good news. Great news because they couldn’t see anything had spread outside of my left breast. For awhile, that was all I heard, even as the nurse continued talking. I was so thankful that the worst of the worst wasn’t a reality in that moment. It had been a grueling three weeks of only knowing small amounts of information. To know the rest of my body is “safe” for now, that was great news.

The not so good news, though, was that there were more spots in my already troubled area, which means I’ll need a mastectomy instead of a lumpectomy. It didn’t bother me on that initial phone call, but I’m still processing it. The nurse was wonderful and answered every question I had. A plastic surgeon called me within the next 20 minutes to make me an appointment. Over the next few weeks, I have four appointments coming up: breast surgeon (to finalize surgery plan), oncologist (to discuss post-surgery treatment plan), plastic surgeon (to plan reconstruction), and a genetic testing counseling meeting (to go over my genetic testing bloodwork results).

My mind is so full. My surgery is tentatively scheduled for January 22nd and will take 4 – 6 weeks for recovery.

Meanwhile, work is nonstop, I woke up today to my son having a 100.4 degree fever, next weekend is Christmas, my daughter’s birthday is next month, and my kids are both in sports. Life is not stopping. In fact, I feel like it’s going extra fast.

I’m trying to concentrate on the good news and not let anything drag me down, but all it takes is one sneaky little thought to send my mind racing. All it takes is one stupid thought to make my eyes shine with tears, and I become stuck in a pit of what ifs. This is annoying and not healthy. I usually pull myself out of it after a few red lights, but I’d really love not to overthink at the moment. Wish I could temporarily pause my brain waves.

For now, I have enough information to know it’s not all doom and gloom head, but it’s also not going to be a picnic either. I know once this process starts, I’m going down an all new life path. I have a little over a month to wrap my head around that.

Stifle Me Not

Getting Ready

Cancer Sucks, God

My life has changed since November 23rd, when I got the news that I’m not “healthy”, even though I’ve been going through life feeling and functioning very well. It’s insane to me that your body can deceive you like that. I know my diagnosis is in the early stages, so feeling well is to be expected, but I guess with cancer you get images of cancer patients in your head and forget that they went through this phase of finding out first, before they got to the treatment phase where you don’t feel well from side effects.

I’ve been knocked down mentally, emotionally, and spiritually many times, but my body has always been there for me. I’ve always been able to count on myself to be physically capable. Knowing that my body isn’t cooperating is throwing me a giant life curveball. I’m used to sucking it up and dealing with just about anything physically (a cold, aches, etc.) because “I’m healthy”. To have someone tell me otherwise is such a shock. I’m angry about this part, I feel tricked by my own body.

I’m equally eager to move forward and stop in my tracks all at the same time. I met with a surgeon, who was wonderful and explained everything very well. I trust that she’ll do a great job. Her team is great as well – all of the nurses explain things in detail and communicate great. My next step is to get an MRI this coming week, followed by a series of appointments to discuss more details of the surgery and meet with the oncologist to dive into the best “treatment plan”.

The purpose of the MRI is to make sure it hasn’t spread anywhere else in my body. Ugh. I will be suppressing the knot in my stomach until I find out more in the results meeting.

In the meantime, I’m gradually telling people who are close to me about my “news”. I’ve had a few weeks to digest this information, so watching a person’s face contort before my very eyes as their brain tries to grasp what they just heard and what it all means is surreal. Sometimes I choke up a little when I tell someone, and sometimes I’m as matter-a-fact as can be. Everyone wants to say “let me know if there’s anything I can do for you” or they immediately dive into a story about someone they know who’s in this situation. I don’t blame them, I used to be the same way.

I won’t have any surgery or treatment done until at least January, so I’m trying to enjoy the Christmas season while I can. Most days I go about my same routine, with occasional tears in my eyes in my car, as I overthink during a drive from home to work or wherever. And then I catch myself being too negative before I know all the information yet, and I scold myself for doing what I know I should not do.

I have two great kids and an army of a family behind me. God has some plan here and I have to trust it. Every bad thing in my life has turned out for the better. I said a prayer not long ago to God, praying that He help me with this breast pain I get each time I go through my female cycle. I’ve always thought it to be “normal” because I’ve had some sort of pain for a long time, but when you deal with something for so long, sometimes you don’t realize just how bad it’s become. It turns out that all along my hormone levels have been very high and they are the cause of this madness. Although breast cancer isn’t really in my family, there are other things that indicate the females in my family have had other issues that relate to high estrogen and progesterone.

This isn’t what I had in mind, God, but I know there’s a reason I’m not seeing yet.

Stifle Me Not