Monthly Archives: February 2024

Week 4 Recovery

Healing, Hope

What a difference a fourth week of recovery makes. I thought I felt good after week 3, but now I’m getting to the end of week 4 and impressed with how much quicker I pop up from my seat, get in / out of the car, and even multi-task around my kitchen. Go me.

I’ve had no appointments to worry about this week. It’s been a nice break from doctors. Doctor visits cause emotions – good or bad. And emotions send my mind racing. It’s been nice to be left alone for a week. It’s just me, healing, listening to my body to move or rest. Just me doing my own thing without needing anyone to watch over me. My parents and siblings check on me regularly, which I fully appreciate. But I’m finally independent to drive my kids to and from school and sports. I even made a trip to the grocery store on Monday morning. It wasn’t the usual hustle & bustle of the grocery store, more of a calm pace of retirees and stock boys, but it was just the trial run I needed being out in public on my own again.

On Monday, Feb 19th, I will kick off the week going to the oncologist. This is my official appointment that sets the stage for the next few months. Chemo or no chemo? That is the question weighing on my mind. It must be fully weighing on me more than I realize because I had an awful dream. In this dream, I was told I needed one more test, and this test would be positive or negative. If it was one result, I’d die in a few days. If it was another result, everything would be fine.

I woke up before the result came back.

All this to say, clearly my next visit to the oncologist, and her interpretation of my recent tests, is getting to me, despite another doctor telling me “good news”. I can’t really rest easy until I hear it from the oncologist’s mouth.

It’s funny because a doctor visit is usually only about 15 to 20 minutes long. I spend all this time fretting about it, or more so trying not to fret about it, and then it’s a quick visit, I’m done, and what’s been said has been said. It’s so odd how everything matters and doesn’t matter.

I know either way I’ll be fine. I know either way I’ll get through whatever needs to be done. But man, this is a mental load. I’m trying to live each day looking forward to the good things of the day. The yummy meal for lunch, the fact that I can now fold laundry, a nice hot shower, and the fact that I don’t need to rely on anyone to pick up my kids from school. Those are now all very wonderful things.

I have two more weeks of medical leave left. I don’t intend on going back to work in the same way that I left. I started to worry about work details for a minute, but I plan to refocus my energy when I return. I need to make a change on my work habits when I return or it will eat me alive. Whether I have chemo or not, I know I’ll have radiation. So when I return, there is more that my body has to go through. And in however many more months, I’ll need another reconstructive surgery. I can’t afford the energy output at work that I used to use. It will be physically impossible.

I’m so blessed I’ve been working at my job for almost 5 years. I’ve built great relationships with everyone and have earned respect of the owners and officers. I won’t be at 100% at work for the next few months, but I think they’ll support me. I hope so.

This is quite the rambling blog post. Not much to share except that I’m grateful for each day and I’m feeling much better. I know a lot lies ahead, but right now the good outweighs the bad and that works for me.

Stifle Me Not

Hope

Breast Cancer, Healing, Hope

I’m grateful for this new week. This new week gave me hope. After not getting my drain removed last week, I was kind of down. It’s the little things that can get you down. Taking a shower with an attachment to your side, having to worry about changing out the gauze around it, and constantly having to track your drain levels is just exhausting. Also sleeping. Sleeping is challenging when you have to make sure you don’t roll over on, or accidentally pull on, your drain. I went through the motions all week, day-by-day doing all the things I could do, not thinking too far ahead just so I could keep going.

On Wednesday afternoon, I had an appointment with my radiation doctor. I put zero thought into this appointment. I had been jotting down questions for all of my other appointments, but I suppose I was just tired of it all. I viewed this visit as a simple consultation of what was to come in a few months. I had no hopes or fears for this visit. I was just showing up.

My stepmom picked me up. I was aggravated about going to another place with the damn drain in. Fast forward and we’re in the exam room waiting on the doctor. To my surprise, a younger female doctor appeared. She initially looked too young to be a doctor, but as discussion unfolded, she proved to clearly know her stuff. In the middle of our discussion, she blurted out that she saw my oncotype score had returned. And she asked if I wanted to know what it is?

What?

I was stunned. I wasn’t expecting to hear about this score until February 19th at my next oncologist visit. It was only February 7th at this point. I wanted to know, but I didn’t want to know…

Before I could say much more, she tells me that it’s 18.

This score can be anywhere between 1 – 100. If it’s over 25, you’re in for chemo. If it’s under 25, it’s a maybe, depending on how close it is to 25. My oncologist said last week, for me, it would need to be below 22. And here I’m learning that my score returned at 18. I almost started crying, except I wasn’t sure if it was real. I wasn’t sure if I should be excited by a different doctor telling me this information since it wasn’t my oncologist telling me it.

The radiation doctor said she’d be very surprised, and would question, if the oncologist did insist on chemo for me. She printed off my score results and explained them to me a little more. I was in shock. Happy shock. That was the most hope I’d had in two months. I loved that this doctor explained everything so well. She continued to talk through the radiation process with me and how to prepare for that. For an appointment that I had no expectations for, she sure turned my dreary outlook around, even with the drain still attached.

The next morning, I had another follow up appointment with the plastic surgeon. I suppressed my hopes for this visit because I didn’t want to set myself up for disappointment if they didn’t remove the drain again. But to my happy surprise, they did! I have never felt so free! My stepmom and I went to breakfast afterward. I happily drank coffee and ate French toast. In that moment, life was so good.

Today I woke up with no drain to worry about and hope of possibly not having chemo. What a great way to wake up! I drove my son to school, went to the drug store to pick up a couple things, and came home and made myself an omelet. I then took a very long shower. It was an overdue loooong shower. I’ve been so grateful all day.

I’ve been saying extra prayers the past few months. And many many people have been praying for me. I know on the surface when you hear “I’m praying for you”, it sounds like a nice thoughtful gesture. But I believe everyone’s prayers, including my own, are being heard and answered. I think there’s more than meets the eye going on here. I truly hope and continue pray that on February 19th I’m told chemo is not needed.

Stifle Me Not

Post-Surgery Slow Down

Breast Cancer, Healing

It’s been two weeks since my surgery. I thought I’d be up and on my laptop sooner than this, but honestly, that sucked and my healing timeline is proving to be longer than I thought. The last two weeks have been quite an experience. I came home the same day as my surgery, and it was deceptive coming home so early. The power of a nerve block is that you’re superhuman after surgery, but by Day 2 & 3, you just want to die.

Luckily, pain meds exist for a reason and got me through that first hard week. I thought I’d be bored or agitated. No. Quite the opposite. I was in a daze and unable to do much except listen to my mom nervous talk for 4 days straight and mindlessly scroll through social media. My whole family has been phenomenal with helping me out with my kids, bringing over food, etc. But with every pro there is a con. The pro is I can call a few people for help at any time, the con is I’ve had very little alone time in the past two weeks. This introvert loves her alone time. I can barely take a nap because someone is always checking on me. It’s amazing to be so loved and cared for, but it is also exhausting to not have the freedom I’m used to having. I know, it’s not a bad “con” to have. I’m just whining now. Not ungrateful, just missing my freedom.

The mastectomy itself was successful. My breast surgeon cleared out the cancer, including one compromised lymph node. All of my margins were negative (which is good!). She tested and removed 3 lymph nodes. 1 of the 3 lymph nodes were bad. It sounds like only have one bad lymph node is a good thing, but one is enough as a red flag for my oncologist. So overall, a good outcome from the cancer perspective.

From the vanity perspective, to my disappointment, I woke up from surgery to be informed that they could not do the reconstruction right away and I’m stuck with a plastic expander sewn in my chest for a few months. I wasn’t being vain when I asked the question, it was my quest for efficiency. I just did not want to have another surgery, but that is not the case. It was in my best interest to wait until my skin wasn’t so “stressed” to move forward with a more natural looking reconstruction. Sigh. Okay, fine. I’d been told this may be the better option.

One week after surgery, I had a week of three appointments. First up, my oncologist. She is direct, honest, and offers zero fluff. I appreciate her realism. I loathe her lack of bedside manner, which I didn’t know I appreciated until encountering my other doctors. My other doctors are masters at offering emotional support simply by being more communicative and not solely focusing on percentages of chance of survival. Low and behold, just like last time, I was in tears the evening after my oncologist visit. She keeps saying, if the recurrence rate returns too high, I’m in for 6 months of chemotherapy.

The day after the oncologist visit, I went to my breast surgeon. Right now, she is my favorite. Afterall, she eliminated the cancer cells from my body, and then she had good news about margins, and she helped me understand the need for chemo better, without making me cry. Something about being diagnosed with early (stage 2) breast cancer paired with 6 months of chemo wasn’t sitting right with me – sounds like an oxymoron. Like why do I need such a dosage for something that is “early” and “common” and “survivable”? I keep getting the same roundabout answer – it’s because I’m young. I don’t think of myself of young, but the doctors do. If you’re under 50, you’re “young”.

I guess the more years you have left to live naturally paired with your chance for recurrence, they turn up the dial on the precautions. I’m now waiting for a score, and oncotype score, to decide the fate of my treatment plan. Nothing like waiting on a number to dictate my future.

My third doctor appointment of the week was the plastic surgeon. He is the one I’ll see the most and be monitored by when it comes to the stitches and drain removal. I was so hopeful I’d get my drain removed. Not so. It was too soon. I made my next appointment for early this upcoming week, hopeful again that maybe it can come out. Having a drain attached to you for 2 weeks is exhausting and frustrating.

So my surgery and two weeks has come and gone. I truly thought I’d be doing more by now, at least be driving, but it isn’t so. And it’s okay. For some reason I’m meant to slow down. That thought keeps crossing my mind. There are times when live goes fast, and there are times when life goes slow. I guess I’m meant to go slow right now.

Stifle Me Not