Breast Cancer Awareness month (October) also sometimes referred to as "Pinktober" due to the large amount of pink ribbon corporate campaigns is over. While I was honored to be a small part of the awareness by giving a PSA which aired on three local radio stations during October, I'm glad the pink craze is over! I like my money and support to stay local for the most part, and I was tired of being asked if I wanted to contribute a donation toward BC awareness when I was shopping this month, only to ask and be told the donation went to a national organization. I never know how much of what is donated is spent on actual research and/or patient needs vs. administrative fees or used to pad the pockets of high-salary executives at those national organizations.
The support I have received is amazing. So many folks care and want to help in any way they can - I have been lucky to have a lot of good people in my corner. I was sitting in the chemo suite yesterday and overheard a woman talking to a nurse about how she basically had to go on disability because her boss was not understanding and made her work life almost impossible; she just couldn't take it anymore and left her job. I couldn't relate as my boss and supervisors have all been so understanding and supportive, that I couldn't imagine being faced with having to leave my job and take even short-term disability because my employer was not understanding. I know there are those out there, and I am thankful that I am in the position I am. I received a card from my aunt who has not spoken to me in a year after an uncle told lies about me and she took his side. No olive branch was extended in her letter to repair our relationship, but rather the card was basically just a way for her to tell me she found out about my breast cancer and "I was in her prayers." I want to say to her, "Don't pray for me - pray for yourself!" I didn't need breast cancer to show me those I need to have in my life vs. those I need to cut out of my life. Auntie is definitely one I can cut out and not look back.
I have three treatments left and I can't wait-November 21 can't come fast enough! I was switched from Taxol to Docetaxol (Taxotere) for my last four treatments. My fingernails are horrible, two are trying to come off and are extremely painful, and I had some pretty significant bone pain that lasted until Tuesday this week (which is very uncommon), so my doctor and I hope the Docetaxol will be a little kinder on the fingernails and bone pain and not as toxic as the Taxol. Of course, Docetaxol comes with different side effects, but hopefully they won't be as significant as what I have endured on Taxol.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Terrible Taxol is Taking its Toll
This past week has been pretty rough. My bone pain was pretty strong on Sunday and Monday, and my mom ended up informing my doctor about it (as she works in the cancer center) and my doctor prescribed stronger pain pills which have seemed to help. Over the weekend, my left middle finger started to swell and the nail looked like it was raising. By Sunday, my finger was turning black around the nail and it looked like I had closed my finger in a car door. I call it my "Halloween Finger" as its black and gnarly looking and, well... just in time for Halloween! I could seriously scare the crap out of some people with it. Monday I noticed the fingernail on my first finger on my right hand was coming lose on one side. Denial was working well for me and I was trying to be gentle with it so as not to lose it; that thought just creeps me out. I don't do well with fingernails and eyeballs - they gross me out when there are problems with either of those! Mom and I were so concerned about my middle finger possibly being infected that I was able to get an appointment with the on-call oncologist Tuesday, October 22 and have it looked at. Just before I was walking out of work to go to the appointment, I was fussing with my wallet and I'm still not sure exactly how it happened - but my finger slipped and my nail caught and ripped, and almost all of it came off my right pointer/index finger. I was in soooooo much pain. It seriously took my breath away for a few moments and I was sobbing in my office. I eventually composed myself enough to grab a Kleenex and some tape from my desk and wrap my fingernail so I could leave to drive myself to the clinic for my appointment. I cried almost the entire way there from the pain and also a little frustration of having crappy nails that are falling apart! The good news is that my middle finger was/is not infected. The bad news is that the finger is scary and that's the result of Taxol. Just one of the side effects I'll have to live with for now.
Friday, October 4, 2013
Chemo Countdow
I'm now five treatments into the T/H combo of chemo that I will receive, and so far the Taxol and Herceptin have had some nasty little side effects that are different from the Adriamycin and Cyclophosphamide that I previously received.
I was lucky on A/C in that I didn't have many side effects. A small rough patch on the roof of my mouth and a little soreness on my tongue around the fourth treatment, a very little bit of diarrhea, but no nausea. Food didn't taste very good and some was just downright disgusting. But otherwise, I was never "sick" from the A\C combination.
Taxol/Herceptin however, sucks. The first treatment was by far the worst. The infusion went fine and I sailed through work on Friday, September 6, but all hell broke lose that weekend. Saturday I woke to pain and feeling cold. I'm never cold. I'm always sweating and bitching about the heat, so to be cold in early September is odd for me. My legs felt like what I imagined it would be like to have "restless leg syndrome", and ached; I vaguely remember shin splints from my time on the varsity basketball team in high school. As I lay in bed, I would constantly keep moving my legs and trying to get comfortable, but nothing seemed to work. Saturday night I was shaking so bad my back hurt, my spine and shoulder blades felt like they were on fire from the violent shaking. My body would tense and I would just shake uncontrollably, and have to use every bit of willpower to make myself relax and stop. However, as soon as I got relaxed, the shaking would return. I was wearing a long sleeve T-shirt, under 2 blankets and still couldn't get "warm" or stop shaking. Finally, exhausted I managed to fall asleep but the sleep was restless. Sunday morning I experienced for the first time bone pain. I had heard of this from other patients, but not yet experienced it myself and was honestly hoping I wouldn't! My legs ached and some of my joints felt like I had arthritis. I took 6 ibuprofen in 5 hours and the limit was 8 in a 24 hour period. Thankfully I was able to get a prescription from my doctor for the pain which helped tremendously.
I was lucky on A/C in that I didn't have many side effects. A small rough patch on the roof of my mouth and a little soreness on my tongue around the fourth treatment, a very little bit of diarrhea, but no nausea. Food didn't taste very good and some was just downright disgusting. But otherwise, I was never "sick" from the A\C combination.
Taxol/Herceptin however, sucks. The first treatment was by far the worst. The infusion went fine and I sailed through work on Friday, September 6, but all hell broke lose that weekend. Saturday I woke to pain and feeling cold. I'm never cold. I'm always sweating and bitching about the heat, so to be cold in early September is odd for me. My legs felt like what I imagined it would be like to have "restless leg syndrome", and ached; I vaguely remember shin splints from my time on the varsity basketball team in high school. As I lay in bed, I would constantly keep moving my legs and trying to get comfortable, but nothing seemed to work. Saturday night I was shaking so bad my back hurt, my spine and shoulder blades felt like they were on fire from the violent shaking. My body would tense and I would just shake uncontrollably, and have to use every bit of willpower to make myself relax and stop. However, as soon as I got relaxed, the shaking would return. I was wearing a long sleeve T-shirt, under 2 blankets and still couldn't get "warm" or stop shaking. Finally, exhausted I managed to fall asleep but the sleep was restless. Sunday morning I experienced for the first time bone pain. I had heard of this from other patients, but not yet experienced it myself and was honestly hoping I wouldn't! My legs ached and some of my joints felt like I had arthritis. I took 6 ibuprofen in 5 hours and the limit was 8 in a 24 hour period. Thankfully I was able to get a prescription from my doctor for the pain which helped tremendously.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Hair today, gone tomorrow....my secret is out
My hair barely made it to the second round of chemo. Thursday, July 25 I was able to go to chemo with hair even though it had started to come out when I combed it that morning. However, Friday morning in the shower as I wet it and ran my hands over the top, I had a fistful of hair left behind. Friday at 10:30am I got my head shaved. I had read a blog entry from another woman with breast cancer who said nothing can prepare you to lose your hair. She was correct - as much preparation as I had done in buying scarves and caps for when my time would come, I was still not prepared and it was indeed a shock.
Since then, I have been trying to experiment with scarves as the thought of a wig in August just sounds horrible to me. Some scarves have worked, and others have failed. I find the non-slippery, long, rectangular head scarves to be easier to tie around my "Uncle Fester" looking head! I highly recommend having a fabric cap for the days you just don't want to deal with tying a head scarf; they are easy to pull on and go. Put on a pair of dangle earrings, some lip gloss and it's a quick out-the-door look.
One thing I have resented more than anything has been losing my hair. My secret is now out. When I had hair, no one knew I was sick to look at me, and that was fine; it was normalcy for the time being and I knew what would eventually come. Another resentment I have was a coworker who posted a picture of me and her, both in headscarves as she was being supportive of my cause, to her Facebook page and she tagged me. Ouch! When she asked me if she could have a picture, I had no idea she would post it in such a public fashion. I was absolutely horrified to see the photo of me in my cap on Friday - the first day I didn't have hair and before I could get used to wearing a cap - show up on my Facebook page when I had not yet gone public to all my friends and even some family members. Well, that certainly took my secret and put it out there for the world to see in a way I wasn't prepared and didn't authorize. I understand she did it out of support, but I would caution and urge everyone - please ASK someone if you can OUT them on such a social forum before doing so. By the time I realized she had posted the photo and tagged me, too many people had already seen and liked the photo for me to feel like I could request it taken down. I feel violated to this day. This is MY news to share with the world or whomever I damn well pleased - not anyone else's.
Lesson learned......no photos!
Since then, I have been trying to experiment with scarves as the thought of a wig in August just sounds horrible to me. Some scarves have worked, and others have failed. I find the non-slippery, long, rectangular head scarves to be easier to tie around my "Uncle Fester" looking head! I highly recommend having a fabric cap for the days you just don't want to deal with tying a head scarf; they are easy to pull on and go. Put on a pair of dangle earrings, some lip gloss and it's a quick out-the-door look.
One thing I have resented more than anything has been losing my hair. My secret is now out. When I had hair, no one knew I was sick to look at me, and that was fine; it was normalcy for the time being and I knew what would eventually come. Another resentment I have was a coworker who posted a picture of me and her, both in headscarves as she was being supportive of my cause, to her Facebook page and she tagged me. Ouch! When she asked me if she could have a picture, I had no idea she would post it in such a public fashion. I was absolutely horrified to see the photo of me in my cap on Friday - the first day I didn't have hair and before I could get used to wearing a cap - show up on my Facebook page when I had not yet gone public to all my friends and even some family members. Well, that certainly took my secret and put it out there for the world to see in a way I wasn't prepared and didn't authorize. I understand she did it out of support, but I would caution and urge everyone - please ASK someone if you can OUT them on such a social forum before doing so. By the time I realized she had posted the photo and tagged me, too many people had already seen and liked the photo for me to feel like I could request it taken down. I feel violated to this day. This is MY news to share with the world or whomever I damn well pleased - not anyone else's.
Lesson learned......no photos!
Monday, July 15, 2013
Chemo weekend #1
July 15, 2013
Thursday, July 11 was my first chemo treatment. I have felt fine since then with just a slight bit of dizziness on Friday morning when I awoke and a very slight headache on Saturday, Sunday and Monday. I have been keeping on top of my anti-nausea medicine as I don't wish to begin feeling nauseous. Appetite is down slightly (which is just fine - I could stand to lose a few pounds....), but food for the most part still tastes the same. No mouth sores, gastrointestinal issues, or other unpleasant side effects from the chemo yet that I had planned on experiencing so I'm thrilled. Now, if every treatment would go this smooth, I will be a happy lady. I'm not holding my breath - I'm sure at some point the amount of drugs in my body will start causing more havoc than good. Wait for it.....wait for it.....
Thursday, July 11 was my first chemo treatment. I have felt fine since then with just a slight bit of dizziness on Friday morning when I awoke and a very slight headache on Saturday, Sunday and Monday. I have been keeping on top of my anti-nausea medicine as I don't wish to begin feeling nauseous. Appetite is down slightly (which is just fine - I could stand to lose a few pounds....), but food for the most part still tastes the same. No mouth sores, gastrointestinal issues, or other unpleasant side effects from the chemo yet that I had planned on experiencing so I'm thrilled. Now, if every treatment would go this smooth, I will be a happy lady. I'm not holding my breath - I'm sure at some point the amount of drugs in my body will start causing more havoc than good. Wait for it.....wait for it.....
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Hello Red Devil....
July 11, 2013
I will be exactly 7 weeks post op tomorrow, and had my first round of chemo drugs this morning. It's hard to believe it's been that long, and in other ways the time seems to be flying by; I hope the feeling of time flying by continues, but only for the next two years....then it can slow down again!
I was up at 6:30, but began thinking of all the unknown today and procrastinated in bed (got on computer, kept laying in bed hitting the snooze button) until almost 7:30. I finally decided it was time to face the day and get in the shower already. Worked until 10:30, then bid farewell to the coworkers extraordinaire to get to the clinic. Upon arrival I checked in at the front desk and went upstairs. Didn't have to wait long to get called back and then we did the weight thing (ugh....) and she asked if I wanted a room with a bed or a chair. Upon looking at the chair and how small the rooms are, I chose the chair as I knew I might have visitors and there would be more room. Mom came and joined me just as I was getting ready to give her a call to try and tell her exactly what room I was in and found me before anything got started. They had only taken my vitals (blood pressure, temperature and pulse/oxygen). We sat for probably 30 minutes and my nurse came in to inform that they were looking at orders and waiting on the meds to be mixed and it shouldn't be much longer.
First up was inserting a needle into my port. I had put a small dab of the EMLA cream I had left over from surgery on a bandaide at work around 9am as to numb the area a little so it would hurt less. Mom was smart and mentioned the freeze cream they have and so my nurse Heather shot me for a good 10-15 seconds with the freeze cream. Then, she inserted the needle into the port and pulled on the syringe for the flash of blood. Nothing. So, she opened a syringe of saline and hooked that one up and flushed the line, and flash - there was blood! (Yes, this is good! It means the port was working and just needed some prodding; I had not had anyone do anything with it until today.) The freeze cream is amazing! Never felt a thing going in and no pain whatsoever tonight from the IV.
Next up, administering half a bag of saline through the IV/port before any of the chemo drugs. This took maybe 20 minutes or so. But before any of the chemo drugs were administered, they gave me two different drugs for nausea via IV. Each one took about 20 minutes.
And then.....it was Adriamycin, a.k.a. "Red Devil"! This is THE mother of chemo drugs that I will be receiving. The nurse administered this to me via push. A "push" means the medication is in a syringe and they literally sit next to you and upon hooking the syringe into your IV, they gently apply pressure and "push" the medicine in slowly, as opposed to the drip of an IV. I received three large syringes (think 1 inch diameter and about 5-6 inches long). They had me suck a popsicle (or ice works too) while it's being pushed to reduce the chance/occurrence/severity of mouth sores. While it will deliver the gifts of (potential) nausea and heart problems, along with drowsiness, fatigue, hair loss, diarrhea, red urine, and will lower my white and red blood cell counts as it attacks not only the cancer cells but other rapidly dividing cells in my body, I must remember that in the end it will make me better. This will be a journey. I will travel this yellow brick road and kick some red devil ass along the way!
Last but not least was Cytoxan. This was another bag hung with the saline and given over 90 minutes. I turned on the TV only briefly to watch maybe 30 minutes of Ellen. The rest of the time was spent talking to mom and/or interacting with the nurses who came to stop the beeping and change out the four bags of fluid I was given today. It was great to see Sally, my moms supervisor and have a chance to speak to her for a short while. I also got to meet Ralph who works in the pharmacy and mixes drugs; while he didn't personally mix mine, he was on top of it! Oh Ralph - loved his German brogue and hearing about his granddaughter and seeing his adorable picture of her.
Once the Cytoxan was finished I was done. The nurse came in and removed the needle from my port, which didn't hurt at all and was a cinch. She reminded me of the anti-nausea prescriptions at the pharmacy and insisted that if I had any problems or side affects they warned me about, I was to call ASAP. Mom and I gathered my stuff, and we were free! Total ordeal took from 11am to just after 4pm. I was at Walgreens about 4:20 buying my meds and drinks and then to my parents for dinner. Fantastic bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich with a little bit of potato salad and just a little bit of my new favorite ice cream from Hudsonville for desert.
Now, sleep so I can hopefully go to work tomorrow (Friday) morning for a little while before my afternoon appointments. This weekend will be taking it easy and hopefully feeling somewhat decent given the circumstances.
I will be exactly 7 weeks post op tomorrow, and had my first round of chemo drugs this morning. It's hard to believe it's been that long, and in other ways the time seems to be flying by; I hope the feeling of time flying by continues, but only for the next two years....then it can slow down again!
I was up at 6:30, but began thinking of all the unknown today and procrastinated in bed (got on computer, kept laying in bed hitting the snooze button) until almost 7:30. I finally decided it was time to face the day and get in the shower already. Worked until 10:30, then bid farewell to the coworkers extraordinaire to get to the clinic. Upon arrival I checked in at the front desk and went upstairs. Didn't have to wait long to get called back and then we did the weight thing (ugh....) and she asked if I wanted a room with a bed or a chair. Upon looking at the chair and how small the rooms are, I chose the chair as I knew I might have visitors and there would be more room. Mom came and joined me just as I was getting ready to give her a call to try and tell her exactly what room I was in and found me before anything got started. They had only taken my vitals (blood pressure, temperature and pulse/oxygen). We sat for probably 30 minutes and my nurse came in to inform that they were looking at orders and waiting on the meds to be mixed and it shouldn't be much longer.
First up was inserting a needle into my port. I had put a small dab of the EMLA cream I had left over from surgery on a bandaide at work around 9am as to numb the area a little so it would hurt less. Mom was smart and mentioned the freeze cream they have and so my nurse Heather shot me for a good 10-15 seconds with the freeze cream. Then, she inserted the needle into the port and pulled on the syringe for the flash of blood. Nothing. So, she opened a syringe of saline and hooked that one up and flushed the line, and flash - there was blood! (Yes, this is good! It means the port was working and just needed some prodding; I had not had anyone do anything with it until today.) The freeze cream is amazing! Never felt a thing going in and no pain whatsoever tonight from the IV.
Next up, administering half a bag of saline through the IV/port before any of the chemo drugs. This took maybe 20 minutes or so. But before any of the chemo drugs were administered, they gave me two different drugs for nausea via IV. Each one took about 20 minutes.
And then.....it was Adriamycin, a.k.a. "Red Devil"! This is THE mother of chemo drugs that I will be receiving. The nurse administered this to me via push. A "push" means the medication is in a syringe and they literally sit next to you and upon hooking the syringe into your IV, they gently apply pressure and "push" the medicine in slowly, as opposed to the drip of an IV. I received three large syringes (think 1 inch diameter and about 5-6 inches long). They had me suck a popsicle (or ice works too) while it's being pushed to reduce the chance/occurrence/severity of mouth sores. While it will deliver the gifts of (potential) nausea and heart problems, along with drowsiness, fatigue, hair loss, diarrhea, red urine, and will lower my white and red blood cell counts as it attacks not only the cancer cells but other rapidly dividing cells in my body, I must remember that in the end it will make me better. This will be a journey. I will travel this yellow brick road and kick some red devil ass along the way!
Last but not least was Cytoxan. This was another bag hung with the saline and given over 90 minutes. I turned on the TV only briefly to watch maybe 30 minutes of Ellen. The rest of the time was spent talking to mom and/or interacting with the nurses who came to stop the beeping and change out the four bags of fluid I was given today. It was great to see Sally, my moms supervisor and have a chance to speak to her for a short while. I also got to meet Ralph who works in the pharmacy and mixes drugs; while he didn't personally mix mine, he was on top of it! Oh Ralph - loved his German brogue and hearing about his granddaughter and seeing his adorable picture of her.
Once the Cytoxan was finished I was done. The nurse came in and removed the needle from my port, which didn't hurt at all and was a cinch. She reminded me of the anti-nausea prescriptions at the pharmacy and insisted that if I had any problems or side affects they warned me about, I was to call ASAP. Mom and I gathered my stuff, and we were free! Total ordeal took from 11am to just after 4pm. I was at Walgreens about 4:20 buying my meds and drinks and then to my parents for dinner. Fantastic bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich with a little bit of potato salad and just a little bit of my new favorite ice cream from Hudsonville for desert.
Now, sleep so I can hopefully go to work tomorrow (Friday) morning for a little while before my afternoon appointments. This weekend will be taking it easy and hopefully feeling somewhat decent given the circumstances.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Return to work
Monday, June 8
Today was my first day back since having a left mastectomy on May 24. It was weird; as if nothing had changed and everything changed. My co-workers are the best and have been super supportive so far. I walked around the corner to find two signs on the door of our suite of offices that read "Welcome Back Sarah" and "We missed you!", and two more signs on the door of my office that said, "Welcome Sarah" and "Michael Missed You!" (Michael Phelps = I'm a huge fan and have his Kellogg's poster above my desk at work!). They brought donuts and it was great to sit in the middle of the suite and catch up after being gone for six weeks. Took me a while to get signed onto my computer and had to reset some of my passwords that had expired in that time, but I finally got going enough that I think today wasn't a total waste. Ha!
I start chemo on Thursday, July 11 at 11:00a.m. Not sure what to expect, so that has me nervous, but I'm sure I'll do fine. I think the hardest part of this whole process is not being able to make plans. I want to do so much, but have no idea what the future holds; I can't very well make plans, as I don't know if I'll feel well, be sick, be ok, etc. It sux. Day by day, no future plans being made at this time.
My new friend Judy has second round of surgery tomorrow to have more lymph nodes removed. I pray she does well and feels decent when it's over. Her armpit is going to be sore again, and that sux as she was just beginning to feel better. She's strong and will get through it and we are going to support each other. I like to think of her as my second mom! :) Her sons graduated a couple years before me and a couple years after me.
Today was my first day back since having a left mastectomy on May 24. It was weird; as if nothing had changed and everything changed. My co-workers are the best and have been super supportive so far. I walked around the corner to find two signs on the door of our suite of offices that read "Welcome Back Sarah" and "We missed you!", and two more signs on the door of my office that said, "Welcome Sarah" and "Michael Missed You!" (Michael Phelps = I'm a huge fan and have his Kellogg's poster above my desk at work!). They brought donuts and it was great to sit in the middle of the suite and catch up after being gone for six weeks. Took me a while to get signed onto my computer and had to reset some of my passwords that had expired in that time, but I finally got going enough that I think today wasn't a total waste. Ha!
I start chemo on Thursday, July 11 at 11:00a.m. Not sure what to expect, so that has me nervous, but I'm sure I'll do fine. I think the hardest part of this whole process is not being able to make plans. I want to do so much, but have no idea what the future holds; I can't very well make plans, as I don't know if I'll feel well, be sick, be ok, etc. It sux. Day by day, no future plans being made at this time.
My new friend Judy has second round of surgery tomorrow to have more lymph nodes removed. I pray she does well and feels decent when it's over. Her armpit is going to be sore again, and that sux as she was just beginning to feel better. She's strong and will get through it and we are going to support each other. I like to think of her as my second mom! :) Her sons graduated a couple years before me and a couple years after me.
Friday, June 14, 2013
3 week recovery
Three weeks ago today, I had surgery. I still have one drain (the other fell out in the shower just over a week post-op). I feel like I have a large rubberband in my left armpit every time I lift my arm. Sometimes, I have to almost rotate my arm in order to lift it; and even then, it feels like the rubberband is stretching and is about to snap.
I have an appointment today, and was hopeful the drain could be removed - not going to happen. I'm beginning to think it will never be removed. I'm slowly becoming more independent once again; driving myself to my appointments, running small errands, trying to help out more with housework and cooking dinner. I'm enjoying my time off from work so far, but beginning to look forward to returning. I'm not yet sure when I'll begin chemotherapy; maybe that will be determined today at my appointment, or possibly next week. I had an echocardiogram Wednesday morning and while it was basically a sono of my heart, it was painful to do post-op. The tech (not realizing I had a left side mastectomy) asked me to lie on my left side with my arm above my head. Ok, these are two things I can't WAIT to do! As a side sleeper, not being able to sleep on my left side is not making me happy. I can sleep on my right side, but it's not as comfortable as it used to be, and I have to be careful of the drain coming out of my left side, and make sure it doesn't pull or tug. So, during the echo, we modified the position to what I could do comfortably. I also had to have contrast, so a nurse came in and give me an IV for the contrast. I also had to pee in a cup for a pregnancy test, which was clearly going to be negative; what do they think I'm doing during recovery for the past three weeks!? So humiliating and unfair that guys don't have to disclose the last time they got lucky by peeing in a cup when they go to the doctor!
Just trying to find humorous ways to pass my time as of now. I have spent more time on Facebook in the last three weeks than I probably have the last two years. Hopefully soon I can occupy my time in a much better capacity - work! :)
I have an appointment today, and was hopeful the drain could be removed - not going to happen. I'm beginning to think it will never be removed. I'm slowly becoming more independent once again; driving myself to my appointments, running small errands, trying to help out more with housework and cooking dinner. I'm enjoying my time off from work so far, but beginning to look forward to returning. I'm not yet sure when I'll begin chemotherapy; maybe that will be determined today at my appointment, or possibly next week. I had an echocardiogram Wednesday morning and while it was basically a sono of my heart, it was painful to do post-op. The tech (not realizing I had a left side mastectomy) asked me to lie on my left side with my arm above my head. Ok, these are two things I can't WAIT to do! As a side sleeper, not being able to sleep on my left side is not making me happy. I can sleep on my right side, but it's not as comfortable as it used to be, and I have to be careful of the drain coming out of my left side, and make sure it doesn't pull or tug. So, during the echo, we modified the position to what I could do comfortably. I also had to have contrast, so a nurse came in and give me an IV for the contrast. I also had to pee in a cup for a pregnancy test, which was clearly going to be negative; what do they think I'm doing during recovery for the past three weeks!? So humiliating and unfair that guys don't have to disclose the last time they got lucky by peeing in a cup when they go to the doctor!
Just trying to find humorous ways to pass my time as of now. I have spent more time on Facebook in the last three weeks than I probably have the last two years. Hopefully soon I can occupy my time in a much better capacity - work! :)
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Surgery was Friday, May 24 at 10am. I was in surgery for about 4 hours and recovery for 2 hours, then taken to the 7th floor for my stay in the hospital. The morning of surgery I had to put EMLA cream around the nipple of my left breast and saran wrap over the top for approximately an hour to numb the area. I had to be in nuclear medicine at 7am where they injected me with a radioactive dye and scanned the area several times. The injections hurt a lot more than the aspiration procedure, the dye stung and burned going in, but thankfully it was short lived. A second set of scans needed to be performed, and then I was on my way to the second floor, One Day Surgery department to check in at about 8:40am. My parents ran downstairs to grab a bite for breakfast and I was called back to get prepped for surgery. The usual vital signs taken, questions asked, urine test to confirm I wasn't pregnant, etc. and then my parents were allowed to come back before I was wheeled to the operating room. Kissed my mom goodbye and as we were rolling down the hallway, I lost it. Started bawling. Pulled my gown over my head as I sobbed all the way down the hallway and into the room. The nurses with me in the operating room were great. One gave me a hug and kept reassuring me that I was in good hands. I knew I was in good hands, I just didn't want to be there at that moment. I started thinking of what was coming and that was so unpleasant that I think I freaked myself out. I didn't want to have a mastectomy, I wanted to be at work. I didn't want to think about the recovery period and the start of chemotherapy, I wanted to be going through the motions of my everyday life, as boring as it is at times.
I woke up in the recovery room and it wasn't long before I was wheeled out to my room. I remember feeling incredibly tired. It was hard to open my eyes and appear awake, but I could hear and understand everything happening around me. I remember opening my eyes enough to see being wheeled around the corner of the unit and a guy and girl standing in the hallway. I remember thinking, "geeze, don't get out of the way for the person driving my bed...just stand there gawking at us." I remember being pushed past a door, then backed into that room and looking over as the same guy looked at me. I remember hearing, "Well, there goes the private room." I remember the nurses coming in and hooking up my IV next to my bed, taking my vitals and putting a pulse ox on my finger which monitored my heart rate and oxygen saturation. I remember the hallway guy walking past my bed and going to the patient on the other side of the pulled curtain (I never saw my roommate) and saying to her, "Well, you get a roommate. But she looks young. Maybe she'll be better than the last one." and hearing her reply, "Well, it can't be worse." and their ensuing conversation about her previous roommate, who as I understand from their discussion had terrible gas from a stomach or bowel procedure, and how awful they thought it was having her as a roommate. I also remember thinking how little privacy those damn curtains really provide between the beds. There were several more times I remember my roommate and her husbands disdain of my presence by the comments they made. I am sure they thought I was asleep and didn't hear a word they said, but I heard everything they said and even picked up on their disgust that "she" no longer had her own room.
Later that evening, the nurses came in and asked me to dangle off the side of the bed to work out some of the anesthesia. They helped me up to sit on the side of my bed as Dr. Ray, my surgeon came in to talk to the woman on the other side of the curtain. Those curtains that don't provide the least bit of privacy. As I sit, with my curtain drawn around me, with a binder around my chest and a sheet up to my stomach, with my feet dangling off the side of the bed, I learned that the woman on the other side of that curtain was in way worse shape than I ever hope to be. Pancreatic, liver and kidney cancer was apparently her diagnosis and she was having a Whipple procedure on Wednesday. Having worked in the ER, I knew of the Whipple, but didn't know exactly what it was; I just remember it's a pretty specialized procedure and not something you necessarily want to have to endure. Dr. Ray left and then came back a few minutes later to tell her that I was also his patient. He came into my curtain and was pleased to see me sitting on the side of the bed. He informed me that she was also his patient and we should talk to each other. I remember wondering at that moment if he knew how she and her husband had spoken about me, if he would feel that it was important that we 'bond' by talking to each other. Dr. Ray and I talked and I knew fully well that the curtain was giving away all my secrets to the woman on the other side; she would know I had a mastectomy, my diagnosis, my plan for recovery. After Dr. Ray left, the voice on the other side of the curtain introduced herself to me and said, "I'm sure you think I'm some grumpy old 52 year old woman." Thinking it would be rude to agree, I said, "Well, we all have our moments. Just gotta get through it and get to a better place." We spoke briefly and she informed that she was having a Wipple on Wednesday. She asked what I had, and I informed that I had a mastectomy which meant my prospects as a Hooters Girl was over. She laughed and said I had a great attitude. I hoped some of that would rub off on her as I could tell she was not in a good place emotionally.
It was downhill from there. Multiple visitors walking past my bed and people bringing their children (kids who appeared to be aged 7-11) finally had me seeing red. I informed the tech who came to take my vitals I was close to calling the house officer. She got the message loud and clear and told her charge nurse who came in and listened to my complaint and then told me they had an open room and would move me. Ahhh....finally silence on Saturday evening and I was so relieved I went to sleep at 8:30pm and didn't wake until almost 6am.
I was discharged Sunday at 11am. My mom came to get me and we ended up driving through the cemetery to see the flags for Memorial Day, giving Walgreens a little more time to fill my prescriptions. Once we got home, my sister brought my three nephews over to see me and Tanner gave me a lovely card he made with foam stickers and said to me, "Can I give you a hug?" How could I say no!? I told him he could hug me on the right side and very gingerly he hugged me - he's such a lover. We'll have to watch him when he grows up! :)
Bryce and Skylar were happy to give me a right handed high five. Once they left, I was tired and ended up taking a nap. So begins the recovery at my parents......
I woke up in the recovery room and it wasn't long before I was wheeled out to my room. I remember feeling incredibly tired. It was hard to open my eyes and appear awake, but I could hear and understand everything happening around me. I remember opening my eyes enough to see being wheeled around the corner of the unit and a guy and girl standing in the hallway. I remember thinking, "geeze, don't get out of the way for the person driving my bed...just stand there gawking at us." I remember being pushed past a door, then backed into that room and looking over as the same guy looked at me. I remember hearing, "Well, there goes the private room." I remember the nurses coming in and hooking up my IV next to my bed, taking my vitals and putting a pulse ox on my finger which monitored my heart rate and oxygen saturation. I remember the hallway guy walking past my bed and going to the patient on the other side of the pulled curtain (I never saw my roommate) and saying to her, "Well, you get a roommate. But she looks young. Maybe she'll be better than the last one." and hearing her reply, "Well, it can't be worse." and their ensuing conversation about her previous roommate, who as I understand from their discussion had terrible gas from a stomach or bowel procedure, and how awful they thought it was having her as a roommate. I also remember thinking how little privacy those damn curtains really provide between the beds. There were several more times I remember my roommate and her husbands disdain of my presence by the comments they made. I am sure they thought I was asleep and didn't hear a word they said, but I heard everything they said and even picked up on their disgust that "she" no longer had her own room.
Later that evening, the nurses came in and asked me to dangle off the side of the bed to work out some of the anesthesia. They helped me up to sit on the side of my bed as Dr. Ray, my surgeon came in to talk to the woman on the other side of the curtain. Those curtains that don't provide the least bit of privacy. As I sit, with my curtain drawn around me, with a binder around my chest and a sheet up to my stomach, with my feet dangling off the side of the bed, I learned that the woman on the other side of that curtain was in way worse shape than I ever hope to be. Pancreatic, liver and kidney cancer was apparently her diagnosis and she was having a Whipple procedure on Wednesday. Having worked in the ER, I knew of the Whipple, but didn't know exactly what it was; I just remember it's a pretty specialized procedure and not something you necessarily want to have to endure. Dr. Ray left and then came back a few minutes later to tell her that I was also his patient. He came into my curtain and was pleased to see me sitting on the side of the bed. He informed me that she was also his patient and we should talk to each other. I remember wondering at that moment if he knew how she and her husband had spoken about me, if he would feel that it was important that we 'bond' by talking to each other. Dr. Ray and I talked and I knew fully well that the curtain was giving away all my secrets to the woman on the other side; she would know I had a mastectomy, my diagnosis, my plan for recovery. After Dr. Ray left, the voice on the other side of the curtain introduced herself to me and said, "I'm sure you think I'm some grumpy old 52 year old woman." Thinking it would be rude to agree, I said, "Well, we all have our moments. Just gotta get through it and get to a better place." We spoke briefly and she informed that she was having a Wipple on Wednesday. She asked what I had, and I informed that I had a mastectomy which meant my prospects as a Hooters Girl was over. She laughed and said I had a great attitude. I hoped some of that would rub off on her as I could tell she was not in a good place emotionally.
It was downhill from there. Multiple visitors walking past my bed and people bringing their children (kids who appeared to be aged 7-11) finally had me seeing red. I informed the tech who came to take my vitals I was close to calling the house officer. She got the message loud and clear and told her charge nurse who came in and listened to my complaint and then told me they had an open room and would move me. Ahhh....finally silence on Saturday evening and I was so relieved I went to sleep at 8:30pm and didn't wake until almost 6am.
I was discharged Sunday at 11am. My mom came to get me and we ended up driving through the cemetery to see the flags for Memorial Day, giving Walgreens a little more time to fill my prescriptions. Once we got home, my sister brought my three nephews over to see me and Tanner gave me a lovely card he made with foam stickers and said to me, "Can I give you a hug?" How could I say no!? I told him he could hug me on the right side and very gingerly he hugged me - he's such a lover. We'll have to watch him when he grows up! :)
Bryce and Skylar were happy to give me a right handed high five. Once they left, I was tired and ended up taking a nap. So begins the recovery at my parents......
Friday, May 24, 2013
My Saran Wrap boob
Applied the EMLA cream to my boob and have it wrapped in Saran Wrap. This will numb the area. Surgery at 10am, but I have imaging and injections at 7am.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
May 21, Day 11
I woke up today and immediately realized that my career prospects as a Hooters Girl will be over Friday. Then remembered the joke, "If girls with big boobs work at Hooters, where do girls with one leg work? IHOP."
Sick humor aside, I'm still processing that I will have a mastectomy in just three days. And it comes exactly two weeks after I received my diagnosis. It's been a whirlwind two weeks of appointments, tests, consultations. I'm also trying to come to the realization that in four weeks I'll begin 20 weeks of a brutal round of chemo, followed by radiation and then reconstruction to "look normal". Last night I spent some time looking through the various pamphlets of literature I was given by the nurse coordinator and social worker, and I completed the healthcare Power of Attorney and Living Will paperwork. While 98% of the stuff I did read I already knew, there were a few points I had not considered.
Sick humor aside, I'm still processing that I will have a mastectomy in just three days. And it comes exactly two weeks after I received my diagnosis. It's been a whirlwind two weeks of appointments, tests, consultations. I'm also trying to come to the realization that in four weeks I'll begin 20 weeks of a brutal round of chemo, followed by radiation and then reconstruction to "look normal". Last night I spent some time looking through the various pamphlets of literature I was given by the nurse coordinator and social worker, and I completed the healthcare Power of Attorney and Living Will paperwork. While 98% of the stuff I did read I already knew, there were a few points I had not considered.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
May 16, Day 6
Today was a long day. Both physically and emotionally. I started at the clinic at 7am to get a PET scan. They injected me with the radioactive dye and then let me relax for approximately 45 minutes before taking me into the scanner. The machine first pushed me in and pulled me out quickly for a CT scan, and then it pushed me all the way through, and stopped over my pelvic area for four minutes. After four minutes, it pulled me through another 4 inches and stopped and scanned that area for four minutes. The total scan time was about 25 minutes and was not as bad as I thought it might be. Keeping my eyes closed helped me relax and not freak out; not that I'm claustrophobic, but it was still creepy.
Following the PET scan was a sono and the placement of a titanium marker over the tumor. The sono revealed another cyst in the right breast this time, and a couple of puffy lymph nodes in the left armpit area. So, after the tech conferred with the breast imaging doctor, they decided to aspirate the cyst in the right breast, place the titanium marker over the tumor and biopsy the lymph nodes and place a secondary marker there; from one procedure to three. Apparently I handled it all much better than they expected. Honestly, it wasn't that bad. The worst part was the armpit as it was tender, even after she gave me numbing medicine. I didn't feel any pain per se, but just a lot of tugging and when she popped the biopsy tool the sound it made was slightly disturbing; think 5x worse than getting your ears pierced! Tonight my armpit is quite tender.
Following the procedures I was sent to mammography for a film to show the marker placement. All went well and I was able to call my mom to have lunch with her. She works at Mills and so we went downstairs to grab a lemonade from the fridge, then went outside to sit and chat. It was a lovely day and the lifeflight helicopter went straight overhead! Wish I had my camera on me.
Then I had just over an hour until MRI. So I sat in the library and checked my email, answered some messages, forwarded some phone calls, etc. and then looked at a copy of Water for Elephants; I have wanted to look at that book to see if it was any good for some time, but never taken the time. I'm thrilled to say I will order it on my Nook to read while recovering from surgery. The first chapter sucked me in!
The MRI was a no go, so it was a wait to see the doctor at 4pm. He was running late and we were told it would be more like 4:30, but it was actually after 5 I think by the time he came in the room. He was fantastic. However the news he delivered was not what I was expecting. I knew the tumor was fast growing, but he didn't mince words and told me that it was his recommendation that I have a mastectomy before chemotherapy. His fear is that undergoing neoadjuvant chemotherapy (before surgery) could cause the cancer cells to become resistant to the chemotherapy prior to surgery. He also indicated that I had youth on my side and said that my cancer is bad; the chemotherapy will be difficult and if I were older, I would have a hard time surviving the treatment. Long story short - this is going to be ugly.
Following the PET scan was a sono and the placement of a titanium marker over the tumor. The sono revealed another cyst in the right breast this time, and a couple of puffy lymph nodes in the left armpit area. So, after the tech conferred with the breast imaging doctor, they decided to aspirate the cyst in the right breast, place the titanium marker over the tumor and biopsy the lymph nodes and place a secondary marker there; from one procedure to three. Apparently I handled it all much better than they expected. Honestly, it wasn't that bad. The worst part was the armpit as it was tender, even after she gave me numbing medicine. I didn't feel any pain per se, but just a lot of tugging and when she popped the biopsy tool the sound it made was slightly disturbing; think 5x worse than getting your ears pierced! Tonight my armpit is quite tender.
Following the procedures I was sent to mammography for a film to show the marker placement. All went well and I was able to call my mom to have lunch with her. She works at Mills and so we went downstairs to grab a lemonade from the fridge, then went outside to sit and chat. It was a lovely day and the lifeflight helicopter went straight overhead! Wish I had my camera on me.
Then I had just over an hour until MRI. So I sat in the library and checked my email, answered some messages, forwarded some phone calls, etc. and then looked at a copy of Water for Elephants; I have wanted to look at that book to see if it was any good for some time, but never taken the time. I'm thrilled to say I will order it on my Nook to read while recovering from surgery. The first chapter sucked me in!
The MRI was a no go, so it was a wait to see the doctor at 4pm. He was running late and we were told it would be more like 4:30, but it was actually after 5 I think by the time he came in the room. He was fantastic. However the news he delivered was not what I was expecting. I knew the tumor was fast growing, but he didn't mince words and told me that it was his recommendation that I have a mastectomy before chemotherapy. His fear is that undergoing neoadjuvant chemotherapy (before surgery) could cause the cancer cells to become resistant to the chemotherapy prior to surgery. He also indicated that I had youth on my side and said that my cancer is bad; the chemotherapy will be difficult and if I were older, I would have a hard time surviving the treatment. Long story short - this is going to be ugly.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
May 15 (Day 5)
Today was an emotional rollercoaster. Meeting with the social worker was uncomfortable and I wanted to be anywhere but in a small room with my mom and her talking about how I feel. I don't do emotions that well. I was fine talking about my clinical diagnosis when she asked; such as how it was discovered, how fast it grew in the last 8 months, the course of action as I know it right now, etc., but I did tear up and feel like I could lose it when the social worker gave me papers on the living will and power of attorney. The thought of no longer being able to make my own decisions and be independent is unacceptable for me to comprehend. I have always been stubborn and seldom asked for help. I'm a "put on your big girl panties and get r' done" kinda gal. A "pull yourself up from your bootstraps" when the going gets tough. We took a tour of the infusion room. I saw the room on a tour when the cancer center was first opened, but it was a large open room without the reclining chairs, IV poles and bald people staring back at me.
Just prior to leaving work for the appointments today, I received a call informing me my surgeon was out sick and couldn't meet with me, but if I wanted to, I could meet with his nurse. I opted to go ahead and keep the two meetings today as I felt bad for rescheduling with the social worker twice, and I figured the surgeon's nurse might be able to answer a question or two I had about the process of surgery and chemo. I grossly underestimated my surgeon's nurse. Not only did she answer my questions, she gave me information I hadn't considered. One of my questions was how soon chemo and/or surgery would take place. She informed me that surgery would likely happen in the next three weeks. Discussing the tumor and it's size, we agreed that I would probably have a mastectomy and not a lumpectomy. I had started to wrap my head around not having a left breast, and having to go through a reconstruction on that side. Tumor Board was held today, a meeting among the oncologists, radiological oncologists, plastics (reconstruction team), and various other medical staff, and my case was the first to be presented. They discussed my care and it's felt that my tumor would respond quite well to chemotherapy and shrink the tumor so that I could have a lumpectomy instead of a mastectomy. The surgical nurse called to inform me of this and I can't describe the emotion I felt at the time; not that I was looking forward to the mastectomy, but when she mentioned a lumpectomy may be a possibility, I was almost disappointed. I think I had tried so hard to accept the mastectomy, that her telling me they would only remove the lump and not the entire breast was a let-down. Probably doesn't make sense to the normal healthy person reading this blog, but hopefully others facing cancer will understand my feeling/reaction.
Tomorrow is going to be grueling with the number of appointments. I start at 7am with a PET scan, then have a marker implanted (which they didn't do when I had the initial biopsy), then a mammogram and ultrasound on both breasts (to be sure the right is healthy), then an MRI and last but not least, an appointment with the surgeon (provided he's not out again sick). Friday will be a meeting with my oncologist and she hopes to have the results from the MRI and mammogram and sonograms. Then I guess we will decide if it's chemo or surgery first.
Just prior to leaving work for the appointments today, I received a call informing me my surgeon was out sick and couldn't meet with me, but if I wanted to, I could meet with his nurse. I opted to go ahead and keep the two meetings today as I felt bad for rescheduling with the social worker twice, and I figured the surgeon's nurse might be able to answer a question or two I had about the process of surgery and chemo. I grossly underestimated my surgeon's nurse. Not only did she answer my questions, she gave me information I hadn't considered. One of my questions was how soon chemo and/or surgery would take place. She informed me that surgery would likely happen in the next three weeks. Discussing the tumor and it's size, we agreed that I would probably have a mastectomy and not a lumpectomy. I had started to wrap my head around not having a left breast, and having to go through a reconstruction on that side. Tumor Board was held today, a meeting among the oncologists, radiological oncologists, plastics (reconstruction team), and various other medical staff, and my case was the first to be presented. They discussed my care and it's felt that my tumor would respond quite well to chemotherapy and shrink the tumor so that I could have a lumpectomy instead of a mastectomy. The surgical nurse called to inform me of this and I can't describe the emotion I felt at the time; not that I was looking forward to the mastectomy, but when she mentioned a lumpectomy may be a possibility, I was almost disappointed. I think I had tried so hard to accept the mastectomy, that her telling me they would only remove the lump and not the entire breast was a let-down. Probably doesn't make sense to the normal healthy person reading this blog, but hopefully others facing cancer will understand my feeling/reaction.
Tomorrow is going to be grueling with the number of appointments. I start at 7am with a PET scan, then have a marker implanted (which they didn't do when I had the initial biopsy), then a mammogram and ultrasound on both breasts (to be sure the right is healthy), then an MRI and last but not least, an appointment with the surgeon (provided he's not out again sick). Friday will be a meeting with my oncologist and she hopes to have the results from the MRI and mammogram and sonograms. Then I guess we will decide if it's chemo or surgery first.
Day 4
Tuesday, March 15, 2013. I'm forwarding my mail to the hospital. Today I had an MRI simulation, a meeting with the genetic counselor and a meeting scheduled with the social worker. I was also scheduled for four more appointments Thursday (starting at 7am and ending at 3pm) in addition to the two I have tomorrow, and the one (so far) I have Friday.
Today's MRI simulation started 40 minutes late, but we got it done and the good news is, I can have an MRI on Thursday. The technicians had to see if I could withstand lying on my stomach for half an hour with my arms above my head. It's not comfortable, and not something I would do on a regular basis, but I'm willing to push myself into a zen-like trance if necessary to get through the discomfort if it means more information toward my overall diagnosis. I'll deal with the slight dizziness from laying with my face down, and the fact that my arms are nearly asleep after being above my head the entire time to get a good result. The genetic counselor was really good. Taking a family history, I have no cancer in my immediate family (mom, dad, siblings), but do have some cancer in my grandparents, their siblings, and their siblings children. Topic of discussion was the BRCA test. After consideration, I decided to start the process. It's a simple blood draw and results can be received in two-three weeks. Let me state now that I did not decide to go through with the BRCA test because Angelina Jolie publicly admitted to having a double mastectomy after her BRCA test identified she carried the BRCA1 gene. However, I think it's fantastic and amazing that she was able to pull off a double mastectomy in February and reconstructive surgery in April without the public knowing - Bravo to the medical community who treated her and kept her secret (regardless of HIPPA as she is a celebrity and they have so little privacy), and the paparazzi who left her the hell alone during her procedure. The meeting with the genetic counselor took so long that we once again had to reschedule the meeting with the social worker. Maybe tomorrow it will actually happen!
Today's MRI simulation started 40 minutes late, but we got it done and the good news is, I can have an MRI on Thursday. The technicians had to see if I could withstand lying on my stomach for half an hour with my arms above my head. It's not comfortable, and not something I would do on a regular basis, but I'm willing to push myself into a zen-like trance if necessary to get through the discomfort if it means more information toward my overall diagnosis. I'll deal with the slight dizziness from laying with my face down, and the fact that my arms are nearly asleep after being above my head the entire time to get a good result. The genetic counselor was really good. Taking a family history, I have no cancer in my immediate family (mom, dad, siblings), but do have some cancer in my grandparents, their siblings, and their siblings children. Topic of discussion was the BRCA test. After consideration, I decided to start the process. It's a simple blood draw and results can be received in two-three weeks. Let me state now that I did not decide to go through with the BRCA test because Angelina Jolie publicly admitted to having a double mastectomy after her BRCA test identified she carried the BRCA1 gene. However, I think it's fantastic and amazing that she was able to pull off a double mastectomy in February and reconstructive surgery in April without the public knowing - Bravo to the medical community who treated her and kept her secret (regardless of HIPPA as she is a celebrity and they have so little privacy), and the paparazzi who left her the hell alone during her procedure. The meeting with the genetic counselor took so long that we once again had to reschedule the meeting with the social worker. Maybe tomorrow it will actually happen!
Day 3
Monday, May 13. Four appointments starting at 2pm. First up was the nurse coordinator who provided me with information about breast cancer, my team of doctors (oncologist, radiation oncologist, and surgeon) and gave me some general reading on support groups and dealing with this diagnosis. Second on the docket, a meeting with my oncologist who I adore. She was incredibly thorough, spoke slowly and calmly while drawing diagrams and writing things down for me to see so that it "clicked". I have a better understanding of the tumor and the treatment and know what to expect which has lifted a giant weight off my shoulders. I feared the unknown. Probably why I spent much of Saturday and Sunday Googling the little information I did have from the pathology report. It came in handy as she asked if I had a friend that was a physicist. Guess I was asking the right questions while demonstrating my newly acquired knowledge as I asked questions about the treatment and what to expect. Third meeting was with the radiation oncologist and confirmation that I would be receiving radiation when the time comes. He informed that if I elect to have a lumpectomy, I receive radiation no questions asked; however, with a mastectomy it's sometimes unnecessary to followup with radiation. However, the size of my tumor and it's aggressive nature has guaranteed that I will receive radiation no matter if I choose to lump it or lop it. The last appointment was supposed to be with the social worker, but it didn't happen as it was already 5pm and I had had enough information for the day; plus, we figured she wanted to go home, so we rescheduled. I ended up going downstairs to the lab to have blood drawn to knock out one more of the many tests I'll have this week.
As I understand, my hormone levels are an aspect of my tumor. Something about Estrogen Receptors (ER) and Progesterone Receptors (PR) and the HER2/neu gene. My HER2/neu was a 2+ which is not negative (0 or 1+), but is not positive (3+). So, it had to be sent for a FISH test. (see below from http://breastcancer.about.com/od/diagnosis/p/her2_diagnosis.htm)
Chemotherapy
Chemotherapy will be necessary and will likely last 5-6 months. Two medications will be given at the start, every other week for 4 cycles; followed by one medication given every week for 12 cycles; radiation will be administered after I have surgery, daily for 33 treatments (approximately 6 weeks). We didn't discuss the side affects in great detail, but I found most of the information on this Mayo Clinic webpage to be accurate to what my doctor and I discussed. http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/chemotherapy-for-breast-cancer/MY01368/DSECTION=what-you-can-expect
Radiation
Radiation will come much later. First, I must navigate the chemotherapy and surgery. As the lump is in my left breast, they worry about exposing the heart and lungs to too much radiation. My doctor seemed pleased that I would be open to laying on my stomach during radiation treatments as they could better target the radiation to the affected area and that position would also allow them to shield the heart much better than if I were on my back. The most common side affect is the breakdown of tissue and redness (similar to a sunburn) that is caused by the radiation.
As I understand, my hormone levels are an aspect of my tumor. Something about Estrogen Receptors (ER) and Progesterone Receptors (PR) and the HER2/neu gene. My HER2/neu was a 2+ which is not negative (0 or 1+), but is not positive (3+). So, it had to be sent for a FISH test. (see below from http://breastcancer.about.com/od/diagnosis/p/her2_diagnosis.htm)
What are the tests for HER2 breast cancer?:
- IHC: ImmunoHistoChemistry - this test measures the production of the HER2 protein by the tumor. The test results are ranked as 0, 1+, 2+, or 3+. If the results are 3+, your cancer is HER2-positive.
- FISH: Fluorescence In Situ Hybridization - this test uses fluorescent probes to look at the number of HER2 gene copies in a tumor cell. If there are more than 2 copies of the HER2 gene, then the cancer is HER2 positive.
Chemotherapy
Chemotherapy will be necessary and will likely last 5-6 months. Two medications will be given at the start, every other week for 4 cycles; followed by one medication given every week for 12 cycles; radiation will be administered after I have surgery, daily for 33 treatments (approximately 6 weeks). We didn't discuss the side affects in great detail, but I found most of the information on this Mayo Clinic webpage to be accurate to what my doctor and I discussed. http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/chemotherapy-for-breast-cancer/MY01368/DSECTION=what-you-can-expect
Radiation
Radiation will come much later. First, I must navigate the chemotherapy and surgery. As the lump is in my left breast, they worry about exposing the heart and lungs to too much radiation. My doctor seemed pleased that I would be open to laying on my stomach during radiation treatments as they could better target the radiation to the affected area and that position would also allow them to shield the heart much better than if I were on my back. The most common side affect is the breakdown of tissue and redness (similar to a sunburn) that is caused by the radiation.
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Day 1
3:22, Friday, May 10, 2013. I was diagnosed with breast cancer. A call from my doctor to tell me the results from my biopsy were "ugly" and "Kiddo, we need to get you into the Mills next week." (Mills is the cancer center in town). Final diagnosis from my left breast ultrasound core biopsy at 10:00 (10:00 is the location of the cyst) was "Invasive high grade mammary carcinoma with extensive necrosis." My knowledge of health and the health field comes from wanting to be a nurse when I was in high school and college (it never happened), to working in the ER for just over 3 years, and remaining very much interested in, and in awe of, medical issues; I love the medical shows on TV. If I had Discovery Health on my cable plan, I might never leave home. I know this is not a good diagnosis. Invasive=potential to, or already has, spread outside the area. Mammary carcinoma=breast cancer. Extensive necrosis=dead tissue - lots of it apparently.
No time to wallow, I was on the stage in Assembly Hall about to start the 3:30 rehearsal with faculty for our convocation ceremony today. After the rehearsal I addressed the "elephant in the tunnel" by telling my boss and co-worker it was cancer. The distraction of work today will make this weekend more bearable.
Happy Mother's Day.
No time to wallow, I was on the stage in Assembly Hall about to start the 3:30 rehearsal with faculty for our convocation ceremony today. After the rehearsal I addressed the "elephant in the tunnel" by telling my boss and co-worker it was cancer. The distraction of work today will make this weekend more bearable.
Happy Mother's Day.
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