The Dumpster Fire - Kicking Cancer's Butt

 It's been another week of appointments this week. Today being Thursday has had no appointments and it feels a little bit like a vacation because the last two weeks have been SO. BUSY. What's interesting is that last week Monday, September 16, the RN at the oncologist's office told me that the next two weeks would feel crazy overwhelming. She was not wrong! In fact, this week Monday, September 23, when we had the chemo education class, I couldn't believe it had only been 7 days since that first post-op appointment at the oncologist. Everything has happened so quickly. This is great, of course, because the sooner we get things going, the sooner I'm cured and ready to move on with my life. This week we had the chemo education class on Monday. I had blood drawn (which will be occurring at each infusion appointment to make sure my blood counts are good) and then we saw the FNP, another nurse and a social worker.  The chemo education portion is a LOT of information. A. L...

Wow, what a busy week! We saw the medical oncologist, Dr. V on Monday. We had met her at the MST appointment on August 22, but this was our first appointment at her clinic. She’s very direct and to the point but also made sure that we understood everything that would be happening going forward. My surgeon, Dr. M, had initially wanted to go back to surgery on October 1st to test the other lymph nodes. However, Dr. V asked if we could delay that surgery and go to chemo. I’m okay with that because it will give my body more time to heal from the bilateral mastectomy and it means more time before I have to deal with more drains! Win-win in my book. I will have 16 chemo treatments. The first four are bi-weekly and are the AC drugs. (I don’t know the actual names off the top of my head but people call the combination The Red Devil because of its color and the fact that it is what makes your hair fall out.) After those are done, we will have 12 weekly treatments with the other drug. (From ther...

 No one in their right mind would ever tell you that the cancer journey (of any kind) is easy. It isn't. It's so overwhelming. The first little while it is literally information overload and you will feel like your brain is going to blow up (like that emoji where the brain is coming out in an explosion - you will actually feel that emoji). There are so many appointments, meetings and tests that you will need to go through to ensure your treatment is best tailored for YOU. And it can be so, so much. And my journey is really just beginning.  It has been 63 days since we found the lump, 34 days since we got confirmation it was breast cancer and 14 days since surgery. Really everything has blown up since the breast cancer confirmation so in the last 34 days, I've been poked, prodded, examined, offended and surgically altered. (I say offended because I still have bruising from the biopsy which was 38 days ago!) At any rate, there are things that breast cancer has already taught ...

Jeff and I went to the post-op appointment together on Thursday, September 12. We met with the surgeon’s PA (same one who missed my surgery because she got the ‘Rona). She was wonderful. Super upbeat and bubbly, very kind, but also gentle. My pathology report came in literally just before the PA came in to meet with us. The nurse came in to let us know this and said it would just be a couple minutes more so the PA could quickly review it. Well, once it’s available to them, it’s available to me so I also looked it up. I like to joke with my students that I’m a doctor but not that kind of doctor and this is one of those cases where it was very evident. I can read and interpret stuff but so much technical and medical jargon went right over my head. When the PA came in, she went over it with us. The bad news is that while the radioactive tracer only led them to three lymph nodes, each of them came back positive for disease when they were dissected. The surgeon is concerned that even though...

Truthfully, one of the hardest things for me, right now, during the still-early stages of this journey is hearing people's well wishes. How's that for sounding like a selfish ass?! "You're going to kick this cancer's ass!" "You're strong, you got this!" "You're the strongest person I know! You'll come out stronger!" Maybe. Maybe not. The issue is, you have to get through the journey first. And right now, in this moment, in this part of the journey, it sucks. It sucks hard.  And maybe I don't want to fight or be strong or be the ass kicker anymore. Maybe I just want to dip into oblivion and be left the hell alone for once. Stop sending those freaking lemons my way, you hear me universe?? I want to hit something. Throw something. Pound my fist and shout "this is utter bullshit." And you know what? I can't even do those things because I don't have the full use of my arms yet! It's just one more damn thing ...

 I am not a religious person. I never have been. Back in June, at a routine appointment, they asked me if I was religious or spiritual. I appreciated the distinction because I don't think they are mutually exclusive. I've long since believed in a higher power than myself but that doesn't mean that it has to be a religious figure.  In January of 1998, when I was 19 years old, my maternal grandfather passed away. He was the first person I had ever really been close with who had died. We were in the room when he passed away and I remember being a little afraid to touch his hand afterward to say goodbye because it would mean I was touching a dead person. The loss hit me pretty hard and I was very upset that night. I remember laying in bed with my daughter, Emily, who was 2 1/2 at that time and trying to fall asleep, wondering what life would be like without grandpa in it. Even though I didn't see him super frequently, he had always been there when I needed him to be and kno...

Please note this is being written multiple days after surgery and is based upon what I can remember myself and what I was told. It may not be entirely accurate.   On Tuesday, September 3, 2024, my life changed forever.  My wonderful husband, Jeff, indulged me in an amazing shower knowing it would likely be the last one I could take alone for awhile. And boy did I linger. I relished being able to lift my arms up to wash my own hair. I shaved my legs and felt a sense of satisfaction being able to do something normal for the last time for awhile. Getting dressed required some thought as to what I would be able to do after surgery. I couldn't just get dressed in any old clothes because I would have some limitations in the use of my arms after the surgery. I recognize that some women always take a lot of care in what they wear. I would say about 50% of the time, that was me. But now, it needs to be 100%, at least until I have my full range of motion back and I'm fully healed u...

 I don’t think you can deal with a cancer diagnosis and not find yourself vulnerable at times. This is also why I will never understand people who don’t share their journey. Maybe it’s just because I’ve had lots of lemons thrown my way in life and I didn’t share them for a long time…and once I did, I became an open book. I will tell strangers. Like, I legit don’t care who knows. It’s freeing in a lot of ways. Much better than coping in the dark, often alone and without support. But there is a level of vulnerability a strong, independent person like myself will struggle with. Growing up, my parents put themselves first. It was about their needs and desires, not what us kids needed. It took me a lot of years to recognize that my mother is a narcissist. Everything is about her and she is incapable of feeling real empathy for others. She made a choice to choose money and an abusive asshole over my well being and that’s when I stopped talking to her. One thing she and my stepmonster tau...

 Most people know about the stages of grief: shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, testing and acceptance. I'm not sure I have hit them all in the month of August as my world literally turned on it's head. I don't think I ever hit denial. I remember very clearly on August 8, laying there while they did the ultrasound on my breast, still trying to come down from the adrenaline of the car accident I had just been in and thinking to myself "there is no way this isn't cancer -- they wouldn't be doing all of this if it was nothing."  I'm not sure I ever hit bargaining or testing either. There was never a choice that this was the hand I was dealt and that, as usual, I was going to have to put on my big girl pants and fight yet again. There has never been an option in my life to not be a fighter.  As a child with an abusive stepfather and an emotional vacant and neglectful mother, fighting was just what I did. To be seen, noticed, cared for. As a teen...