F-ted if I do, F-ted if I don't

Yesterday was a long, busy, tough day with some distractions dispersed in it. For example, I went to yoga practice in the morning, I went to the pub in the evening and saw more friends afterwords. But, C de Lune had an ear doctor appointment, I had a bank appointment and the big one, a medical oncologist appointment. That wasn't fun. So much information to take about my life and my health at once, it's overwhelming. So this is what I know now. The tumor, crappy tumor, was 1.2 cm X 2cm. That was what that 1cm -2cm was all about. Still in stage 1 though. Now my odds? Not as good as 5 to 10% for my lifetime (that's on my chest area). Realistically, it's a 20 to 25% chance that cancer will come back anywhere in me in the next 10 years. Since I'm so young, that's a lot of 10 year periods in front of me. So they say that those odds are unacceptable and ever though I'm probably already cured, they need to make it better. That means 6 rounds of nasty, nasty chemo every 3 weeks and total of 4 different kinds of poison drugs. Yes, they will stick a porta-cath in me --a tube that goes from my arm to my heart artery and that stays there, to prevent poking me every time (otherwise it's 6 IV's and 12 blood tests at least). Yes, I will lose my hair, I will be tired for 6 months, my brain will get foggy, I might be naughteous -although they were quite confidend that they could stop that, and yes, I will be menoposal for up to 2 years --chemo side effect. That means if it's anything like PMS, I'll end up not being able to cope and screaming at my poor child all the time. So, my "prognosis": I'm screwed if I do, I'm screwed it I don't.

My cancer was hormonal receptive for both estrogen and progestorone, which I feared, but I was told that that's a good thing. I thought if is wasn't, it just didn't grow, but that's not accurate. It means that my tumour needed spikes of hormones to grow, and without those, it didn't. What causes spikes is puberty and pregnancy. I knew there was a reason I only has one child... Anyways, cancers that are not hormonal receptive grow out of control, without any natural regulators. I still don't know about the HER2 gene mutation, but if I have that, I'm looking at one full year of drugs.

The good news in all of this is I might be cured already, I'm healthy and strong, I have an awesome heart --I'm not kidding, the average heart performs at a 5o to 55% and mine is at 65%, I might still look good without hair, and I'm getting fresh new breasts in a year. But even so, I'm having trouble accepting my fate. It will take me awhile I think.

Let the next step begin

Tomorrow at lunch time is my first Chemo appointment --not the first treatment, but the first meeting with the medical oncologist who will tell me what's next. I have to go to the Cancer Centre at the General; it's the first time I actually have to go to a cancer specific place, and it's somewhat freaking me out. I might also get results for the hormone receptors and the gene mutation. That's stressful because I don't want to do hormone-blocking therapy. I don't want to be menopausal at 35. Because I decided on the double mastectomy, there's only a 5 to 10% chance the cancer will come back. Chemo must happen because the cancer was a grade 3 and because I'm so young --they want to flush my system of any potential cancerous cells, since I theoretically have a long life ahead of me. And if it ever does come back, god forbid, I will feel it right away, and so will doctors. The thing is, it's not something I'm worried about. I've read many women's experience with breast cancer, and so many of them were paralysed by the idea of it coming back. I'm not. I was healthy before and I plan to be even more healthy now: I'll never skip breakfast again, I'll go back to yoga, I'll run every week, I'll drink lots of water, I'll keep sleeping good nights, I'll keep smiling, I'll take vitamins and replace much of my coffee consumption with green tea. But hormone-blocking therapy, that's another thing. Loosing my breast was tolerable for me, it was a decision I don't regret. But menopause now, nuh hun. But I might not have a choice.

22 days later

3 weeks after surgery and I'm feeling fairly normal. I still feel lots of tension in my chest, tightness and pulling when I move my arms, but it's tolerable. My skin, however, hurts. Skin that used to be protected behind bra wires is now exposed to chaffing cotton. Ouch! I hope that goes away soon. And the itching! I want to scratch, please let me scratch. The problem is, I can't feel that skin, so scratching does nothing. Well, there are worse things to go through...like chemo. Yes, I'm scared, what gave it away? I can only hope it wont be as bad as I'm fearing. I found the surgery to be doable, maybe chemo won't kick my arse so much.

Pathology, pathology...

You are looking at a cancer free me! Yes, you read correctly. My pathology report from this morning indicates that the cancer is gone. It's out and it hadn't spread at all, anywhere. It was a well contained tumor, and my decision to get my breast removed means the margins are all clean, and there's only a 5 to 10% chance it will come back. But if it does, I'll feel it right away under my skin, no need for regular imaging. Even better, I went down a stage since the tumor was 1.2 cm as previously thought from the ultrasound, not 2.1 cm as the MRI had indicated I'm therefore officially a stage 1 --a good, early catch. Unfortunately though, my cancer was a grade 3, the most aggressive kind, not a grade 2. That's not a surprise, since breast cancer in younger women tends to me more aggressive. But it's gone, so whatever. However, I haven't found out if the cancer had hormonal receptors and/or had the whole aggressive HER2 gene mutation. If so, it most likely means more yucky, expensive treatments. The results of those tests will take about 2 more weeks.

This doesn't mark the end of my Cancer Chronicles though since, in my surgeon's words this morning, they will give me a "nasty dose of chemo" to make sure it doesn't come back. First appointment with the oncologist is in two weeks and first chemo treatment will be two weeks after that. That'll be fun...

Work day

Went to work today. Why? Because I get to see people I like, because it makes me feel normal, because I have no real stressful responsibilities and because I was going stir crazy at home. At least this way, I can help out at work where I'm needed without burning myself out. I'll take it easy and stay home if I don't feel up to it, but I'm fine. Really. If was funny to see colleagues do a double take today after seeing how healthy I look --I guess I don't look like I just had surgery. Good, because I doubt chemo will be this easy. Well, maybe this is not easy, but it's not impossible.

Thursday morning is my my post-op appointment. That's the dreaded pathology report day. I'll find out if I need more surgery for cancerous lymph nodes, and if my cancer was hormone receptive and fun stuff like that. I'm scared, but my gut tells me I'm fine. I hope my gut is right. Will keep you posted.

Coping, not courage

Many people in my life have been expressing their awe at my courage and strength. I often hear the words "I don't know how you do it" or "I could never do what you're doing". My first thought in response to that is always "what other choice do I have? If I don't, I'm going to die". It's not courage or strength, it's more a form of surrender. I have given in to my reality and instead of fighting it, I'm living with it. Death still doesn't seem real though until 14 days ago, it was just a few years away. Maybe the fact that I'm healthy and physically fit helps keep my demons at bay long enough for me to care for my child, who doesn't care about a disease --she needs a school lunch, and bedtime stories and all the rest. Life actually does go on. I'm just good at coping, I guess. It's something I've perfected over my life, and it's serving me well. Besides, when you're smack in the middle of a situation, your brain does something to help you get through it. I'm sure my memories of it all will be much worse than reality is, so far.

Whole

Today was difficult. D had a dentist appointment, so off to the Glebe we went. As I waited for him, I ended up in a trendy baby store and I wasn't prepared to see all those nursing bras and supplies. I seriously doubt I'll have more children, a fact I knew going in to this, but it still hit me --I'm not normal anymore. I live with cancer and I no longer have my breasts. The other thing that was getting to me is the huge public awareness campain for breast cancer that's happening. I'm reminded everywhere of my state. Just today, I saw the ads on a passing truck, in the coffee shop and at the card store. After the appointment, I sat with D at the pub where we met to have lunch and I fought back tears while he said silly words like "chicken but" to stop me. I told him it wasn't the concept or even the reality of not having breasts that hurts. It's the fact that a part of myself is gone, a part that had a job, once. They took it away after I asked them to.

Phew, glad that's over!

A week later and I'm doing well. Less pain, less meds, less naps, but still as flat chested as ever. Really flat. Sigh, I keep forgetting and surprising myself in the mirror, although I know I'll get used to it quickly. I forget because I don't feel any different. Only, when I hug people, I still expect my chest to touch them before the rest of me. I should be able get prosthetics this week or next but I'm not sure I'll wear them much --I like this no bra thing I have going on. It feels like I've never worn bras in my life. Maybe I should get double D's just to see the look on people's face. Ha! Good fun. The steri-strips come off tomorrow, which means I can take a real bath and or shower (another good step) and soon I'll be able to sleep on my side... god I can't wait! Like in every good zombie movie, with every hurdle I cross I think "Phew, glad that's over!" I might even go to work next week...

Messed with the wrong chick

I hate drains. I think I'm healing because I now feel those suckers (literally) in my chest and they feel gross. The problem is the removal tomorrow is causing me serious anxiety. I'm afraid I might even throw up. I physically react to potential pain, like shivering, nausea and not feeling my legs. The bright side will be no more drains! Apparently I'll feel much better once they're gone, both physically and emotionally. The first thing I'm doing after is taking a bath, but my chest will have to stay dry --a challenge, but possible. Then a nap since I suspect the drain removal will have drained me. Ha! Other than that, I think I'm going great, considering. Went shopping and to a friend's house for dinner yesterday and walked Oli in the woods today. My body is still not working as it should, but I'm doing what I can to fix that. I even think I might go to the Dale Smith gallery tomorrow night if I feel up to it. Could use a nice artsy distraction with lots of people I like. I need to get D out of this house too --the stress is making him tired and he needs to get away from me a bit... really, who wouldn't at this point. He's being great though. I think I scare him right now, but he doesn't tell me. His usual not saying much and avoiding reality is quite useful at the moment.

Everywhere I go I see this ad for the breast cancer walk weekend in June. I think I'll sign up for it. Anyone interested? We could walk first, then drink copious amounts of booze (to steal words from a friend). Well not me since I'll be in chemo, but you could! :) Cancer f***ed with the wrong chick and I plan to bring it to its knees --if cancer had knees. No wait, I will sit back while cancer grows knees (it grew balls at some point, didn't it?), watch them get solid and healthy (yes, still talking about knees here), then I'll break them slowly! Ha! goooooood. When I'm done, cancer will be begging me to stop torturing it and I won't listen. I can be nasty when I'm mad and in this case, I'm livid.

Conquerer on the job

This is the 4th day of life without my beloved breasts (she says in Stewey's voice from the Family guy). The house is a mess and I cannot get the house boy to clean --he cooks and provides plenty of medication, which gives him a passing grade. However, how am I supposed to conquer the planet with the house is this state of disarray? I have just given the finger to Giada De Laurentis, the chesty chef on television, not only because she cooks food I cannot eat from my living room, but because she shamelessly flaunts her bouncy assets. We'll see who's flaunting in 25 years, sweatheart. My bandages have been changes to my disliking, and the scars are as nice as they could be --I will most likely be able to deceive the world's population by wearing a bikini in 2010. In the mean time, I'm plotting my revenge against the rogue cells that used my body as a party vessel for a year...amputation just doesn't seem adequate enough.

Pretty goofs

Here are piccs of me and C de Lune being goofs, making me pretty two days after surgery. I'm ok.

Surgeon of my dreams

I'm here. Alive. Not that I had a real doubt, but it's nice to put it out there. Didn't all go as planned, but nothing ever really does for me. Something about me being a child that almost wasn't, I guess. My surgeon bent lots of rules and got the whole team in for my urgent Saturday morning surgery. Suddenly I was in the OR, getting and IV and crying my eyes out from nerves and fear --and that was it, I was asleep. I also think I told my surgeon I love her. That's a good feeling to have for the person who, in many ways, holds your life in their hands. I don't remember much about waking up except I was sleepy and cried, and could hardly speak. My mom and dad were there, and the nurses were talking about calling D. He arrived shortly with C de Lune. Funny, she didn't think they had done anything to me yet and simply wondered why I was whispering.

I also remember my surgeon telling me that the surgery went well, that the cancer wasn't attached to anything --no chest wall, no muscle, nothing. But that the lymph nodes hadn't been biopsied yet, since no pathologists were working that day. She did take some out though, and from what they looked like, she doubts they are anything but clear --but I'll know that for sure a bit later. I might be cancer free right now, I don't know.

So, I'm achy but not in serious pain, I can walk around and use my arms a bit and type, obviously. I feel like I played pitcher in a major league baseball game without ever have practiced. The morphine side effects freak me out so I'm trying tylenol. Not to worry though, I'm not alone and there's plenty of meds to help.