Category Archives: Breast Cancer

Back to Basics

Breast Cancer, Change, Perspective Shift

Life can be hard enough when you have normal health. But when you add medical treatments in the mix, daily life becomes very deliberate and basic. I look back at what I used to do and wonder how I accomplished so much in 24 hrs.

My mornings used to involve my alarm going off at 5:30 AM with me thinking “I wanna sleep in”, as I shuffled my sleepy self to the shower. I’d rush through the entire morning – getting ready, packing lunches, nagging kids, etc. I’d fly out of the driveway with my son, drop him off at before-school care, and rush through traffic to get to work by 8 AM. I was almost always 5 minutes late. I’d work through a morning of phone calls, emails and people stopping by my office.

Lunch was my break, but not physically. I’d eat and typically go for a mile walk in the park.

Then I’d power through an afternoon of calls, emails, and people interaction to 5 PM. From there I’d race through traffic to get my son from after-care, get home and start dinner. Dinner, clean-up, and parenting all mingled in there. Sometimes I’d fall asleep on the couch by 9 PM (no wonder), and sometimes I’d indulge in wine and snacks and maybe a phone call with a friend or watching a show.

Wow. How impressive I was. For the past 20+ years I’ve been quite literally running my ass off.

Since January, when I had surgery, life has slowed down. When I returned to work from medical leave, it temporarily sped back up. That gave me a sense of normalcy for about 3 weeks and then I started chemo treatments. Life is now very deliberate and slow. I cannot pop out of bed, shower, and immediately caffeinate. My new ritual to pray, hydrate, focus, and determine how much I can handle in a day. That is followed by coffee, but my day is no longer fueled by coffee and chaos. I’m way more intentional about what I choose to do in a day.

Today was one of those days. Yesterday, I went into the office to work for a few hours, and I could feel myself overdoing it. I finally threw in the towel and told my boss I had to leave. I needed a mango smoothie, rotisserie chicken, and a nap. He’s been an absolute angel, allowing me to work both remote and in the office when I’m up to it. I decided that today I did not want to feel overdone. Today I could only handle the basics.

I didn’t sleep well last night and woke up with a terrible headache. My first priority was getting rid of the headache. Going into the office was not going to help that. I hydrated with some organic coconut water and laid under blankies on my couch. When the headache subsided, I made some coffee and toast. My next priority was getting the kids off to school. Next, I texted my lawn guy to see why on earth my yard was still not mowed after more than a week since the last service. It’s been bugging me all week, and I wasn’t about to go all summer having to nag the lawn company – I was ready to switch companies if this is the norm. I usually do all of my own yard work, but chemo has me doing less these days and I’m supposed to stay out of the sun.

Before 9 am, I accomplished getting rid of my headache, getting the kids off to school, and the lawn company magically appeared to mow the lawn. I then started working. My world did not magically combust because I didn’t focus on work first. It got better.

When you get diagnosed with cancer, or anything for that matter, or if something otherwise terrible happens, the first question often seems to be “why?” Why is this happening to me? There may never be a clear answer, but from here it looks like maybe I’m supposed to be paying attention to some very basic things and not let myself be swallowed up for the sake of doing everything I can to burn the candle at both ends.

I think for the past 20 years I’ve been trying to do my best at anything and everything. Now it’s time for me to do my best as some very basic and meaningful things.

Stifle Me Not

In the Thick of It

Breast Cancer, Cancer Sucks, Hope, Learning

I’m doing it. I’m halfway through my chemo treatments. Monday was round 2 of 4. Yes, two down, two to go. The actual day of chemo is not hard. And neither is the day after. I’ve been keeping a little notebook of how my days are going and it seems to be that days 3 – 6 are the roughest so far. Yesterday was day 5, and I cried. I looked back in my notebook at what I wrote on day 5 after the first treatment. Yep, I cried. I have two more treatments where I have to be prepared for the emotional dip on day 5.

What a rollercoaster ride this is. Everyone demonizes chemotherapy, but I think all of the other drugs are a big culprit in the process. I think going on and off steroids each treatment messes with me more than the actual chemo. The day before a treatment, you load up on steroids. You continue that the day of, and after, treatment. Also, during treatment, they give you an additional dose through your IV. I’m all hopped up on roids the first 3 days! Then, once I miss the first does of steroids on day 3, I start to go downhill feel like complete crap. The sweating is endless, I feel like a little drunk stumbling around my house, and eating becomes a game.

I’m noticing a pattern. It’s known that you get nauseous or sick during chemo, but I guess no one really steps you through WHY this happens and how you can get through it easier. You get nauseous because eventually your body wants to eliminate all of this hard stuff out of your body. What you do or eat leading up to that first “elimination” is pretty key to how the experience goes. No matter what, your body is going to force out stuff, and you just have to help it along the best you can. I was way more conscious of my food and hydration choices this round, and I really think that helped me. I’m also trying to move around more. Too much sitting is not good. Rest is good, but no movement throughout the day is not good.

Today is a better day than the last week, but today is a tricky day. It’s a day where I feel mentally better, but physically I’m not ready yet. I’m happy to know there was a clearing last time and I can feel the clearing coming this time. My patience has never been so tested in all my life. I’ve never wanted to fast forward through something so bad in all my life. But here I am, in the thick of it.

Although this is hard, I think I’m going to be happy I did this later on. A couple of days ago I woke up and my hair, on my already shaved head, was falling out even more. I needed my 15-year-old daughter’s help with shaving it down more. She didn’t hesitate to help me and patiently helped me shave it down to a zero. I told her how much I appreciated her help and how much I love her. And I told her I’ll be there for her in the middle of the night when she has babies later on and needs help with them. She just said “you better”. And we laughed.

I realized I’m going through this hard time not just to live for me and my kids now, but to also be there for my kids when their days get tougher as adults. I’ve needed my parents more now in my 40s than I did in my teens or 20s. I want that for my kids too.

Stifle Me Not

There’s a Clearing

Breast Cancer, Change, Healing, Learning

As much as I don’t love being a person on chemo treatment, not all of the days are bad. Maybe it started out that way, but there’s a clearing. There’s light. It’s not all doom and gloom.

My first week was rough, but the second week was way better. Easter Sunday was the 7th day since my first treatment and I was fine to go to my parents for Easter dinner, eat, and enjoy the kids getting spoiled by their grandparents. It was the kick-off to a good week.

The past couple of days I feel very normal, other than getting tired a little easier than I normally would. I went into work yesterday for the majority of the day. I came home and was tired, but not exhausted. It was a good productive day.

I think the biggest change for me is veering from my normal eating habits. I have to eat small, frequent meals and avoid acidic or citric foods. I like to eat flavorful and even spicy stuff, so this is odd for me. Also, carbonated beverages are not preferred right now. I usually drink a couple of sparking waters a day, but that is just not appealing right now.

What I wasn’t expecting as the days go on is I can adjust. I had adapted to my new normal of fearing nausea and eating only certain things I knew would agree with me, but now that we’re two weeks in, I can mix it up a little. Also, my energy has returned more. I definitely don’t want to go for a run, but doing errands and basic chores are not a problem. I’ve been working at home and gone in the office a couple of times, and it’s all working out.

I’m doing okay. It’s okay. Another day might be a bad day, but there’s a day after that. There’s a clearing, and it feels good to know I can still enjoy myself during this very different season of my life.

Stifle Me Not

Ready or Not, It’s Here

Breast Cancer, Cancer Sucks, Healing

Last Monday was my D-Day, or should I say C-Day, since it was my first Chemo Day. It went unexpectedly well. I was bracing for the worst, and it was the most efficient day. I reported for lab work at 7:45 AM, saw my oncologist right after, and headed into the infusion center by 9 AM. After a 40-minute cocktail of pre-drugs, including steroids, anti-nausea, and Benadryl, I started getting the cancer healing drugs over the next 1.5 hrs. I sat in a comfy heated recliner with my blanket and pillow, and I literally ate snacks the majority of the time.

My dad anxiously stared at me from a nearby chair, trying to read my face and stay as calm as a father in his position could possibly be. We were out the door by 12:30 PM. It was quite amazing. I slept well on night one. My sister stayed the night with me just in case, but all was fine. And then I went on Day 2 for a white blood count injection. I drove to the hospital and back for that, with my nervous sister riding shotgun. We got back home to my mom stopping by. She chattered for 4 hours while I made chicken and asparagus. I slept well on night 2.

I woke up okay on day 3, but by Noon I took a seat in the bathroom and stayed there for awhile. It was gut-wrenching to say the least, and Imodium and Gatorade saved the rest of the day.

Day 4 was full of aches and tiredness. Day 5 and 6 was more of the same. My mouth feels like its coated in muck, my feet and hands occasionally tingle, I get weird twinges here and there, and laying down is preferred most of the time. Nothing really tastes right except for sweet things. All I seem to want is wheat-based and milk-based foods. Vegetables and citric acidy type foods sound like the devil. Even though everything tastes “off”, I have an overwhelming sense of smell. It’s a little too good. I bought new soap, which I usually love, but it’s too strong smelling to use right now. And I can’t wear any perfume or body mist – it suddenly makes me gag.

I’m also having some temperature regulation issues. I’m usually always cold, but after 3 days of steroids, I get so hot, but then after those wore off a few days later, cold cold cold. It’s crazy.

I was doing so well all week without any nausea or vomiting, and then mid-day Saturday after lunch, I was in so much belly pain. Only to see lunch again. That took me about 3 hours to recover with Body Armor and some Zofran.

Day 7 was Easter Sunday, and lucky for me I was able to eat pretty well that day. I was tired all day, but the achiness has subsided. I’m so happy I was able to be with my kids and family for Easter. I appreciated every last drop of that day.

Today it has been officially one week since treatment began. I guess now I have an idea of what to expect the next time. My next treatment is scheduled in two weeks. I’m curious how much I’m going to perk up in between these treatments. Today I successfully took my daughter to a doctor’s appointment and went into work for about 2 hours, but I couldn’t eat anything except a protein shake at the start of the day. I’ve also been working on my laptop from the couch. I’m so thankful that I can work when I can. I’m so grateful that my employer is so understanding.

I’m glad the first round is done, and I can say I’m 25% way through. I’m keeping my eye on the prize – to be done and feel healthy again.

I’ve been playing with my hair, knowing full well it won’t be there for much longer. Trying to take it day by day instead of getting to wrapped up in the anxiety of future happenings.

Stifle Me Not

Fighting the Good Fight Against Myself

Breast Cancer, Cancer Sucks, Change, God, Hope, Overthinking, Positive Attitude

It’s one week until I start chemo. I am, quite frankly, terrified.

I know this a last week of normal-as-I-know-it. I thought being diagnosed and having a mastectomy messed with my normal, but I returned to normalish pretty quickly after getting back to work. Returning to work helped me get back into a familiar routine. The worst of it is trying to quiet my mind about what’s next.

I’ve been trying hard not to try too hard. I’m trying to enjoy day as much as possible, but knowing chemo is right around the corner is really messing with me. I feel like I just got my life back from healing from surgery, and I appreciate each good morning. I wake up every morning and feel pretty good, think of what day it is, and immediately think of how many more days I have until I have strong drugs infused into my body. I woke up crying two days in a row, just because I was overwhelmed within my first few thoughts of the day.

Three weeks ago, I started on two drugs: an injection that’s supposed to suppress my ovary function and a daily aromatase inhibitor pill. The pill lowers estrogen levels, which helps to decrease growth of any breast cancer cells. Since getting the injection and being on the pills, I feel an overall difference in my body, energy, joints, etc. The first week was full of head and body aches. It improved by week 2. It’s not the worst, but it’s not a carefree-breezy-feeling-body anymore.

Last week, my doctor told me to stop the pill while I go through chemo and radiation. I’ve felt great since being off the pill for a week. I think my fear is valid. Not only are chemo and radiation going to have their own set of side effects, but there’s no returning to my current “normal”. After the major treatments are over, I’ll be on pills for a good part of the next decade.

The diagnosis I received in November is supposedly the “good kind” that is highly treatable. After learning of my diagnosis, it was immediately followed up with, “but it’s non-aggressive and treatable”. That made me feel better for a little while, until I experienced how the treatment makes me feel. What they don’t tell you is the drugs alter your everything. Your life flips upside down just as much as someone else’s life. In my case, instead of gradually entering into older age, I’m being forced into menopause (and more) all within a few months. This sounds so much simpler than it actually is.

Sounds. So. Simple.

People often refer to cancer patients as “fighters”. The definition of a fighter is someone who doesn’t easily admit defeat in spite of difficulties or opposition. The truth is, yes, you’re fighting, but you’re not fighting anything or anyone but yourself. You’re relinquishing complete control, and that’s the hardest part of the fight. I’m not in control of any of this. Yes, I’m questioning my treatment options along the way and making a few key decisions. But whichever path I take, I’m releasing control and having to trust outside of my own actions.

If you refuse treatment, you give up control of knowing what’s going on in your body. If you agree to treatment, you’re handing control over to doctors and nurses. Even if you’re somewhere in the middle, in which you agree to some treatment and not others, you’re still left with not really controlling a damn thing. Something could get away from you, or someone could screw up something. You’re constantly fighting you own doubts, worries, fears, etc.

So when you hear someone say, “he or she is a fighter”, it’s not untrue. They’ve become masters at fighting their constant thoughts and emotions. This is where mind over matter comes in. I’ve heard about this, but I see it now. I see how you have to keep your attitude going in a more positive direction to influence your physical well-being.

A mental battle I keep encountering is handling other people’s thoughts and emotions too. Not everyone operates the way I do, and that can frustrate me. I’ve already overanalyzed every possible thing about my treatment, so when someone else does it in front of me, I’m already over it. I don’t want to discount their valid feelings, but I also don’t want to spend more time on something I’ve already conquered in my own mind. I don’t want to be set back.

Something that does keep setting me back emotionally, which I really hate, is that I’m upset that my family is helping me out. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family and that they’re there for me. I’m so happy and blessed to have them. But I had a husband once upon a time, and he decided to cheat on me because he’s a selfish narcissist. Now he’s off having fun with his girlfriend, while avoiding serving an important caretaker role in my life. Now, 6 years later, of course I don’t want him to take care of me, but I can’t help but feel like I should be his mess. He should be the one taking me to appointments and worrying about me, but I know if he was here he’d blow the fight right out of me.

So I can’t help but wonder if all of this will have some weird twisty ending in which it was supposed to happen this way. And I continuously go back to God must be mysteriously up to something. I don’t know what it is, and I won’t know what it is for a while. But it’s all for something, even if it doesn’t feel that way.

Stifle Me Not

Jealous

Breast Cancer, Cancer Sucks

Today I went for a Chemo Teach appointment with a Nurse Practitioner. It was full of information about what I should do and can expect before, during, and after my first chemo session. I knew quite a bit of what she told me. It made me realize that I really have researched a lot and educated myself about as much as I can.

2-week countdown. Ugh.

I really can’t focus well right now. I don’t know if I’m stressed (probably) or if it’s the medication I started two weeks ago that’s messing with me, but I can’t focus. And when I try to accomplish anything, I get sidetracked and overwhelmed.

I’m also terribly jealous of anyone who is planning anything fun right now. The week I start chemo is Spring Break week. My kids will be out of town with their dad on vacation. And some of my co-workers are going on vacation. I’ve been slowly adapting to the reality that this year isn’t going to be the best, but now my love of the sun is being taken away from me. I’m supposed to stay out of the sun, obviously, while I’m in my treatment phase.

I don’t live a crazy party life. I work, eat, sleep, care for my children, go to the grocery store, cook, clean, and keep up with family and a few friends. I typically keep it low key and peaceful. I’m really not missing out on too much, but right now all “fun” possibilities are wiped out and it’s really bumming me out.

Dating is also out of the question right now. Like what am I going to say when I meet someone? “Hi, my name is … my life consists of working, taking care of my kids, and cancer treatments.” Ha! I think not.

Not that dating was going well last year anyhow. I attempted to date last July and again in October. Nope, and nope. I paused my dating life after the Oct dating flub, but two irregular mammograms and a biopsy ruined the rest of 2023 for me. I never did get “back out there.” Wherever “out there ” is.

I once started seeing a guy who, a couple of weeks in, told me that he had severe colon issues and he was about to get surgery done in the coming weeks. It wasn’t a quick fix surgery either. There were possibilities of complications, etc. I was perplexed as why he was actively dating???? He was rude early on and that quickly opened my eyes that he wasn’t a very good person. I think he wanted someone to take care of him. I felt bad for him, but I wasn’t going to be taking care of him.

And I don’t want anyone signing up to take care of me mid-cancer treatment either. That’s not fair to the other person.

That’s my other area of jealousy. It seems like everyone I know who’s had some kind of diagnosis like this has someone. I have my parents and siblings. I am beyond frustrated that they are helping me out. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all doing great helping me out, but it makes me silently furious at my ex-husband. He should’ve been the one taking me to appointments and helping me pick up medication. He should’ve been the one listening to me worry or help me make decisions. Not my parents.

I have to nix those thoughts each time though, or I’ll spiral. I’ll spiral into a world of anger and regret. It always starts with me thinking that maybe I should have tried harder, or stuck it out longer, or something… something different. And then I remember why I made the final decision to split — because it would not have ever changed. The criticisms. The cheating. The overall toxicity.

And then I remember how terrible he was at taking care of me while I had the flu. I can’t fathom my disappointment of being (not) cared for by him during cancer treatments. And this brings me back to reality that having my family take care of me is way better than not having anyone at all, even if I don’t have a significant other right now.

I don’t like this jealous me right now. I know I could have it much worse. I know my diagnosis is very treatable. I know I won’t be in this “treatment phase” forever.

All I can do is pray away the jealousy with the hope of better days to come.

Stifle Me Not

Preparing for the Next Journey

Breast Cancer, Change, Hair, Healing, Overthinking

I’ve come a long way, mentally and emotionally, since last Friday. Probably because I started back to work and it’s a nice distraction from sitting around on my couch for too long. Basically, being at work is preventing me from overthinking.

Since Friday morning, when I found out when my first chemo session will be, I’ve been a mix of anxious and relieved. Relieved because I have a better understanding of what to expect, but anxious because I’m not excited about what’s anticipated to come. I just want to get it over with.

On Saturday morning, I went to get a haircut. I originally scheduled the appointment for a hefty trim since I was returning to work. I ended up chopping off 3/4 of my hair in preparation of what’s to come. I wasn’t ready to go directly from long hair to a shaved head, so I made a plan to go with a short cut I’ve had in the past but don’t particularly like. Baby steps. I still have a lot of hair making up this short bob, but I figure this style will drive me crazy and I’ll be ready to shave it off once it’s time. Honestly, is anyone ever really ready to shave their head in a situation like this?

I’m actually more upset about the hair growth I must go through after chemo is all over. It took me 4 years to get my hair to where I liked it! Shaving my head is one thing, growing hair out is another journey altogether. I’m not going to have my hair back (the way I want it) for 1+ to 2 years.

I will survive, I know. That is the whole point of this of course.

Being back at work has been good for me. I’m surrounded by good people here. I’m busy without be stressed. They’re being very understanding and know I’m in for more challenges this year. That makes things so much easier.

So now I have a new countdown, to starting the rest of my life. Nineteen days until my first infusion. Please get me to June quickly.

Stifle Me Not

The Power of a Second Opinion

Breast Cancer, God, Hair, Hope

Today is my last day of medical leave. On Monday I return to work, but it won’t be without more future days out. I thought that going to my oncologist appointment on February 19th would bring great relief. It was quite the opposite. Not only did I not get the treatment recommendation I was hoping for, but I completely refused it and left more confused than when I first started this whole process. I didn’t refuse out of being stubborn, I refused out of being confused. I can’t move forward with something that will affect my health without fully understanding it.

I would have been okay with getting a treatment recommendation I didn’t want if I understood why I was getting it. Up to this point, most signs pointed to no chemo for me. There was so much hype about this oncotype score I got, and when I got a “good” score paired that with the previous conversation with my doctor, I was in complete shock when she walked in the door and started reading from her computer (rather than looking me straight in the face) that “it is recommended that you get chemo”. Of course I questioned it. And she kept saying “it will be really strong, and over 6 months”. She said “there is a 7% difference between the group that gets the chemo and the group that doesn’t get the chemo”… but she didn’t specify what the 7% really meant. Recurrence? Mortality? I tried asking so many questions, but I was frustrated and couldn’t find all the words. Her answers were not explanations, they were couple-word answers as she peered at me over the top of her mask. I felt crazy. And I just didn’t like her. Her bedside manner quite frankly sucks.

Something about that type of chemo regimen for “early stage” breast cancer just wasn’t sitting well with me. That, paired with the fact that 7% didn’t seem like much of a difference to move forward. Also, that’s not all there is to my “plan”. There’s also radiation, hormone therapy, and an additional cancer drug. I left her office refusing chemo and proceeding with hormone therapy, with radiation scheduled in the coming weeks. I was pissed. I was at peace that I refused her recommendation, but not at peace that I knew enough to be confident in my decision for the long term.

I got a recommendation from my cousin for a second opinion. The next day I immediately called to schedule an appointment. They got me in one week later, which was yesterday.

I was so nervous. It was a virtual video call. I waited about two minutes for the oncologist to appear. Right away he told me he read my file and asked what the best way was he could help. I told him about my concerns with the chemo recommendation. His response was so clear and so confident. It was just what I needed. He said he did absolutely recommend chemo, but not the kind the original oncologist was prescribing for me. He said her plan was too much for what I actually needed. Her plan involved 6 months of frequent chemo. He was recommending 4 rounds of a less toxic chemo over the course of 12 weeks (once every three weeks). He then explained why it was important to get it. He agreed with the radiation, but he strongly disagreed with the cancer drug she was planning for me.

He was a light a big ray of clarity that I have needed this whole time. He stated his medical opinion (didn’t just read from a computer screen), and he shared why he thought that way, and he referenced facts and statistics.

I wanted him to be my doctor. The only problem is that he’s over an hour away from my home, and its logistically more complicated to be treated by him than to go with a doctor nearby. It’s not impossible, I was about to hop in my car and go to his office after being so pleased with how he communicated. He said he would discuss his approach with my original oncologist if she’d be willing to let me move forward with his treatment plan at my nearby facility.

That was at 3:00 yesterday afternoon. By 10 o’clock this morning, I received a call from my local cancer center scheduling me to move forward with his plan, under the direction of my original doctor. So they worked it out. I’m not jumping over the moon, because who wants chemo? I don’t think anyone is jumping for joy for getting an infusion, but I’m pleased with the outcome.

I now have clarity. I now have a plan. I hate confusion. I know there are no guarantees with any decision you make, but I’d at least like to have some amount of confidence I’m moving in the right direction for my own well-being.

I know I type this anonymously, so no one knows what I look like. I have fairly long dark brown hair. It has never been dyed, so it has strands of silver “tinsel” throughout it. I’ve always really liked my hair. I’ve had it short, as in a long bob, a few times in my lifetime, but for the most part, it’s part of who I am. It air dries in soft waves around my face, or sometimes I use the blow dryer and hair straightener to smooth it out. Either way, it looks natural and has always been part of me. I should probably be more worried about all of the drug side effects other than hair loss, but I’m pretty sad to part with my hair for a little while, no matter how vain that might sound. I also don’t want to see the reactions of others. I just don’t want to deal with it.

I was really hoping I could avoid chemo altogether and not have to worry about this at all. It’s just today that I’m realizing just how much I unconsciously play with strands of my hair while I’m doing other things.

I have a hair appointment already scheduled for tomorrow to cut some length off of it to start. I start chemo in 25 days. I already had a hair appointment set up just because I needed a fresh cut before returning to work, but I think I’m going to chop it off above my shoulders to start to lessen the shock when I do have to shave it off. And I’m not going to try to save it with a cold cap or anything like that. I will start from scratch.

Three months. I keep telling myself that by June, I can begin regrowing my hair.

Today was my last visit to the plastic surgeon for a while. I have an expander in, and it’s expanded to its potential. Now I wait to get real reconstruction after my treatment is all complete.

Cancer diagnosis was 11/23/23.

Mastectomy was 1/22/24.

Chemo will begin 3/25/24.

Radiation should begin June 2024.

Next visit with the plastic surgeon is scheduled 9/12/24. I am hopeful I can get reconstruction before the end of this year.

All of this sucks, but it sucks less knowing that I now have some milestones to achieve rather than living in a world of confusion and frustration. I’ve said a lot of prayers lately, and praying for clarity has been one of them. I stopped trying to pray for certain outcomes. God has a His reasons for those, but I pray He takes away my worry/fear/anxiety and gives me peace and clarity to keep moving forward.

In fact, quick story before I end. On February 22nd, a few days after my disappointing oncologist appointment, I was so distraught. I couldn’t concentrate, I kept crying. I wasn’t sure what to do. I already placed a call to my original doctor’s office about putting in for a second opinion, but I was waiting for the second doctor’s office to call me. I finally grabbed my rosary, looked up what mystery day it was, and started praying – all while sobbing big tears down my face. As soon as I finished the first set of ten beads, my phone rang. It was the second doctor’s office calling to set up my appointment. I was in a little bit of shock, but at that moment I knew I was on this path for a reason and God is watching out for me. I just have to trust Him. So I am.

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