It appears that post cancer/chemo depression is common. My oncologist said that some women even need anti-depressants to help them through this phase. Every breast cancer book has a chapter on it. In my case, I can't say that I'm depressed and no, I'm not in denial. I know depression from observation and having lived through situational depression myself in the past, and that's not what I'm feeling now. I would describe it more as being in turmoil. Confusion, sadness, exhaustion, fearfulness are all feelings that come and go on a regular basis lately. But in general, I'm in a good mood and I still feel like my positive self. It's strange actually, everyone around me including myself, expected me to be over the moon with relief and joy once chemo was all done, but I'm not. "Just one more!" you would tell me "You're almost done!" That's what kept me going, even what I was chanting to myself. But, like my doctor said, women go through all this horrible mess that is breast cancer, and take up all their strength, energy and courage to keep their head above water and still care for their family that when the it's all done, they crash. I described it like this to D in the car last night: When you're in shit over your head, you get used to the smell. But back up a few feet and boy does it ever reek. I guess that's it, isn't it? What I've been through stinks so much, that I'm now terrified I'll have to go through it again. Like a little black cloud that follows me around threatening to explode on me again. 18% probability of precipitation fowever. At least, I'm not alone, I'm normal. And alive. I will get through this phase like all the other ones before it and I will not let that cloud mess with my head, or my life. It will just have to become part of the scenary.
On another note, yesterday, at my 6 month-follow-up-of-surgery appointment, I got my referral for plastic surgery. That's exciting. Next year will be a strapless summer. The bad news is my surgeon found another lump, this one under my left arm (my tumor was on the right). I'm going for another ultrasound. No one panic, I'm not. It feels smooth and it's sore, which is very different from my turmor and typical of my PMS. And lets not forget I've just had 6 rounds to nasty chemo, but that's no garantie. On the flip side, it confirms my decision to have both breast removed. Lumpy as they were, can you imagine having to go for tests and biopsies for every lump they find? I had dozens on any given month! At least that's one thing menopause would fix --period induced lumps.
Speaking of which, once again this doctor and nurse were shocked that I had had my period during chemo. Apparently, It's very rare. I shared my fears on Tamoxifen with my nurse and found out she had breast cancer 8 years ago (this is not my home nurse, which also has it 7 years ago). She shared with me that she was fairly young when she had a mastectomy on one side because the tumor was big, and she took the drug for 5 years, as prescribed. She said there were changes for sure, but in general the advantages outweighed the rest. AND, I thought she looked her age, not older, which was very comforting to me. I might be vain yes, but not so vain that loosing my hair and removing my breast was not something I was willing to go through to save myself. I'm coming around to the menopause idea. I'm starting to see it as a challenge --refusing to let it affect me.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Same old, same old
There is no closure. I was dead wrong. I went to my oncology appointment and was hit hard with reality. My head is still spinning and I expect it will for days. I can't take anymore bad news for awhile. My quota has popped. This is today's bad news.
That hormone blocking pill that induces menopause I didn't want to take? I'm pretty much forced to take it if I don't want more cancer. All those pathology percentages they gave me, 25%, 10%, 15%, 30%, etc, etc, etc --they were all wrong. Either I misunderstood or they weren't explained clearly. I presume it's a bit of both. Here is my reality:
-Before my double mastectomy, there was a 60%-65% chance I would get cancer again in my breasts.
-After the mastectomy, there is a 10%-15% chance I will get breast cancer again in the remaining breast tissue (skin, muscle).
In addition, and here is where it gets complicated:
-Before chemo, there was a 60% change I could get cancer again. Anywhere. Think about it. 60% is a passing grade in school.
-After chemo, i.e. right now, there is a 20-25% change I will get cancer again. Anywhere. Especially in the next 10 years. This means either breast cancer in my remaining breast tissue, or a new type of cancer, or breast cancer that has metastasized (moved to another organ). If it's breast cancer in my breast again, they'll find it quickly because it will be easy to feel. If it's a new form or cancer, well, you can imagine all the scary things it could mean. But here is the scariest of all: If it's a metastasized breast cancer, that's a stage 4 --terminal. If I get cancer again in the next few years, that's what it is.
If I take this Tamoxifen drug, my chances of recurrence would be cut down another third, to around 15%. What this drug does is acts as fake estrogen, taking the place of real estrogen in receptive cancer cells and therefore killing them. As a result, it shuts down my ovaries and induces menopause. And why do I need this?
Under the microscope, I didn't have the most aggressive breast cancer they have ever seen, not buy a long shot. But they are still worried for two reasons (and worried oncologists are never a good thing). The first is my age. I'm too young and there are a lot of years of life to save, and a lot of reproductive years ahead of me. Which brings me to the second reason: I am too fertile. I have too much estrogen in me on any average day. So much in fact, that my period didn't even stop or hardly get affected by chemo. I thought that was a good thing, but in fact, it's very bad. My ability to have babies is threatening my life. The answer is to stop it from working.
So this is it my options: menopause and all it's side effects and I might still get cancer again, or live with the 25% recurrence rate I have now. The thing is, I'm a good candidate for cancer recurrence based on estrogen. Which also mean I'm also a good candidate for estrogen blocking therapy. My cancer was fed. They can starve it.
You might wonder why this is a problem for me. The problem is I'm terrified of early menopause. More than I was terrified of chemo. Natural occurring menopause at 5o when it's supposed to happen? Fine. But not at 35. Think of someone who's been through menopause and ask yourself -- Would you want it early? Forced on you? I feel I'm f*cked if I do, f*cked if I don't. Same old, same old. I'm going to go throw up now.
That hormone blocking pill that induces menopause I didn't want to take? I'm pretty much forced to take it if I don't want more cancer. All those pathology percentages they gave me, 25%, 10%, 15%, 30%, etc, etc, etc --they were all wrong. Either I misunderstood or they weren't explained clearly. I presume it's a bit of both. Here is my reality:
-Before my double mastectomy, there was a 60%-65% chance I would get cancer again in my breasts.
-After the mastectomy, there is a 10%-15% chance I will get breast cancer again in the remaining breast tissue (skin, muscle).
In addition, and here is where it gets complicated:
-Before chemo, there was a 60% change I could get cancer again. Anywhere. Think about it. 60% is a passing grade in school.
-After chemo, i.e. right now, there is a 20-25% change I will get cancer again. Anywhere. Especially in the next 10 years. This means either breast cancer in my remaining breast tissue, or a new type of cancer, or breast cancer that has metastasized (moved to another organ). If it's breast cancer in my breast again, they'll find it quickly because it will be easy to feel. If it's a new form or cancer, well, you can imagine all the scary things it could mean. But here is the scariest of all: If it's a metastasized breast cancer, that's a stage 4 --terminal. If I get cancer again in the next few years, that's what it is.
If I take this Tamoxifen drug, my chances of recurrence would be cut down another third, to around 15%. What this drug does is acts as fake estrogen, taking the place of real estrogen in receptive cancer cells and therefore killing them. As a result, it shuts down my ovaries and induces menopause. And why do I need this?
Under the microscope, I didn't have the most aggressive breast cancer they have ever seen, not buy a long shot. But they are still worried for two reasons (and worried oncologists are never a good thing). The first is my age. I'm too young and there are a lot of years of life to save, and a lot of reproductive years ahead of me. Which brings me to the second reason: I am too fertile. I have too much estrogen in me on any average day. So much in fact, that my period didn't even stop or hardly get affected by chemo. I thought that was a good thing, but in fact, it's very bad. My ability to have babies is threatening my life. The answer is to stop it from working.
So this is it my options: menopause and all it's side effects and I might still get cancer again, or live with the 25% recurrence rate I have now. The thing is, I'm a good candidate for cancer recurrence based on estrogen. Which also mean I'm also a good candidate for estrogen blocking therapy. My cancer was fed. They can starve it.
You might wonder why this is a problem for me. The problem is I'm terrified of early menopause. More than I was terrified of chemo. Natural occurring menopause at 5o when it's supposed to happen? Fine. But not at 35. Think of someone who's been through menopause and ask yourself -- Would you want it early? Forced on you? I feel I'm f*cked if I do, f*cked if I don't. Same old, same old. I'm going to go throw up now.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Closure week?
I know I've been writing less, but less is happening on the cancer front which is a good thing. We're back from PEI, where I got to relax in the countryside and at the beach. I was quickly reminded though, of just how weak I still am. I must pace myself or I just zonk out.
This week is all about medical closure of some sort it seems. Wednesday is my last regular blood test and oncology appointment --I think. Will let you know. My doc will push me to take anti-hormonal drugs that will induce menopause. I'm already having hot flashes just from the hormonal effect of chemo, and they are no fun. Like burning up from the inside. It's not something I'm willing to do, and since my doctor's job is to push me to do all I can to survive, I feel a struggle coming on. Don't get me wrong, I want to live, but there are others things I can do for myself to help me stay alive, without the early menopause.
Thursday is my 6-month-follow-up-to-surgery appointment where I will probably get my plastic surgery referral. And I also have an MRI, the last step of the Chemo fog cognitive study I was part of --until next year, that is. The only things that are left, as far as I know, are a nuclear heart test, other odds and ends tests, and the big one, reconstruction surgery. Not looking forward to that, but looking forward to the result.
This week is all about medical closure of some sort it seems. Wednesday is my last regular blood test and oncology appointment --I think. Will let you know. My doc will push me to take anti-hormonal drugs that will induce menopause. I'm already having hot flashes just from the hormonal effect of chemo, and they are no fun. Like burning up from the inside. It's not something I'm willing to do, and since my doctor's job is to push me to do all I can to survive, I feel a struggle coming on. Don't get me wrong, I want to live, but there are others things I can do for myself to help me stay alive, without the early menopause.
Thursday is my 6-month-follow-up-to-surgery appointment where I will probably get my plastic surgery referral. And I also have an MRI, the last step of the Chemo fog cognitive study I was part of --until next year, that is. The only things that are left, as far as I know, are a nuclear heart test, other odds and ends tests, and the big one, reconstruction surgery. Not looking forward to that, but looking forward to the result.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Blue is the only colour
3 weeks since my last chemo --I would be getting another round tomorrow if I wasn't done. I'm feeling more exhausted than ever before and a complete emotional basket case. I can't seem to keep it together. I'm blue, bored, unstable and panicky. I'm even, dare I say it, depressed. What the hell is that a side effect of? I took my last antibiotic yesterday and there are no more pills to take, so that can't be it. I don't get it. I thought I'd be happier once chemo was over with. But it's the opposite. I seem to be less happy. I've been working so hard at protecting myself and keeping my head above water while the cell killing juice works it's magic and saves my ass... Maybe it's just all catching up to me now that my guard is down. In other words, I'm crashing. Hard.
I have also lost my entire muscle mass. I guess it took 6 rounds to kill off all my muscle cells. They hurt for no reason and are very weak --almost fell getting off the bus the other day. Wanted to start running again next week, but that just might kill me. At least my appetite has returned to normal after the steroids almost made me open my own restaurant. Sigh, my arms are the size of huge sausages, and I feel like one big blob of fat. I think I look like one too. Actually, it's more Dopey or Buddha I see when I look in the mirror. Not a good thing. Where did I go?
Have I wallowed enough? I hope that soon I won't feel the need to. I've gotta be in here somewhere...
I have also lost my entire muscle mass. I guess it took 6 rounds to kill off all my muscle cells. They hurt for no reason and are very weak --almost fell getting off the bus the other day. Wanted to start running again next week, but that just might kill me. At least my appetite has returned to normal after the steroids almost made me open my own restaurant. Sigh, my arms are the size of huge sausages, and I feel like one big blob of fat. I think I look like one too. Actually, it's more Dopey or Buddha I see when I look in the mirror. Not a good thing. Where did I go?
Have I wallowed enough? I hope that soon I won't feel the need to. I've gotta be in here somewhere...
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Mean beached whale
So my heart hurts and keeps racing. For the last few days, I've been having what feels like heart muscle cramps, or lung cramps or something else located in my chest. Whatever it actually is, it's nothing if not disconcerting. It's worrying me quite a bit because I saw my nuclear cardiac test results in my chart and it said "abnormal" on it. Also, last time I was in the hospital, the emergency doctor asked me if anyone had ever mention to me a heart murmur. GREAT. What now? I see my oncologist next month for my follow up, so I'll ask to have those results explained to me --will also be getting another cardiac test. That's routine after chemo.
Add this heart stuff to me looking like a beached whale with all this steroid swelling, and the overall aggressiveness, mood swings, crying fits and irritability I've been experiencing (another steroid side effect), you get one messed up girl. Thank god D and C de Lune know me enough to know that I'm acting out of character. Not sick per say, just drugged out of my mind. I don't remember it being this bad the last couple of rounds, so I guess it's the accumulation in my system. Once I'm done the antibiotics, I think I'm going to fast for a day or two, drink lots of lemon water and detox the crap out of myself (no pun intended). But for now, I'm terrified this is not temporary. I don't want to stay swollen and mean for the rest of my life. An unreasonable fear, maybe. But still a very real one.
Add this heart stuff to me looking like a beached whale with all this steroid swelling, and the overall aggressiveness, mood swings, crying fits and irritability I've been experiencing (another steroid side effect), you get one messed up girl. Thank god D and C de Lune know me enough to know that I'm acting out of character. Not sick per say, just drugged out of my mind. I don't remember it being this bad the last couple of rounds, so I guess it's the accumulation in my system. Once I'm done the antibiotics, I think I'm going to fast for a day or two, drink lots of lemon water and detox the crap out of myself (no pun intended). But for now, I'm terrified this is not temporary. I don't want to stay swollen and mean for the rest of my life. An unreasonable fear, maybe. But still a very real one.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Tunnel, light...
So that's it. I'm starting to feel better after my last ever chemo. And I mean EVER --will do whatever it takes to keep it that way. But as I say that, if it ever was to happen again, I know I would get through it. I took my last anti-nausea pill a few days ago and my last steroid last night. I still have to get through day 5 to 10 of the round, which is when I have no immune system. Today is day 7. Got a whole bottle of antibiotics to get through before I'm clear of infections. Next week the picc line comes out before the beach trip. Looking forward to that, although it is a great invention I have very much appreciated. Lets just say I avoided about 15 blood tests and 10 IV's by having it - and that's lots and lots of painful, yucky needles.
Once this cancer experience is over, I want to use my blog to talk about what I'm learning in my research to be healthy, and make sure me and my loved ones live in a healthy environment. I don't wanna preach or become a nut case about it -- just share what I know. All those chemical, toxins, hormones and processed crap out there seems so overwhelming and unavoidable, but if you think of a few years ago, no one wanted to hear or to talk green. And look what's happening now...
Once this cancer experience is over, I want to use my blog to talk about what I'm learning in my research to be healthy, and make sure me and my loved ones live in a healthy environment. I don't wanna preach or become a nut case about it -- just share what I know. All those chemical, toxins, hormones and processed crap out there seems so overwhelming and unavoidable, but if you think of a few years ago, no one wanted to hear or to talk green. And look what's happening now...
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Chemo round #last-and-never-again
Tomorrow is my last chemo round and my friend L is coming with me. Not sure how I feel about it--the chemo, not the friend coming with :). It's somehow a bitter sweet experience and I'm not sure why. Will try to talk it out and see.
The biggest part of me, the self preservation part of me is beyond-words-happy about it. The roller coaster of illness ends, the threat of infection and possible death goes away (that's a big one), the picc line gets removed (hurray for real bath and swimming), my hair, eye brows and eye lashes starts growing back, and I recuperate for 3 months. Work starts again in early October and life goes on. However, it's not over yet: major surgery is yet to come and the oncology team will try to get me to go on the anti-hormone therapy.
The other part of me if worried. Chemo and being sick has been part of my life for the last 4 months. Cancer has had been part of my life since October. I know it sounds odd and possibly wrong, but I got used to it and it's part of my life now. How will I adapt to normal life again? How will I feel about not being followed closely by my doctors and nurses? How will it be to be like everyone else again? I'm not stupid --I know this is all good and I never want to be on chemo again. I'm just feeling odd.
The biggest part of me, the self preservation part of me is beyond-words-happy about it. The roller coaster of illness ends, the threat of infection and possible death goes away (that's a big one), the picc line gets removed (hurray for real bath and swimming), my hair, eye brows and eye lashes starts growing back, and I recuperate for 3 months. Work starts again in early October and life goes on. However, it's not over yet: major surgery is yet to come and the oncology team will try to get me to go on the anti-hormone therapy.
The other part of me if worried. Chemo and being sick has been part of my life for the last 4 months. Cancer has had been part of my life since October. I know it sounds odd and possibly wrong, but I got used to it and it's part of my life now. How will I adapt to normal life again? How will I feel about not being followed closely by my doctors and nurses? How will it be to be like everyone else again? I'm not stupid --I know this is all good and I never want to be on chemo again. I'm just feeling odd.
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