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Posts Tagged ‘chemo’

The Never-ending Saga

Posted in Cancer, chemotherapy, Decisions, Discovery, family, lymphedema, Planning, radiation, recovery, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 14, 2012| 4 Comments »

I can be very stubborn. (I can hear the laughs and see the nods of agreement!) But I will listen, particularly when someone is using terms like “survival rate,” and it’s hard to argue with statistics.

Mom and I both went into this morning’s meeting with the radiation oncologists at Dana-Farber inclined to “just say no.” I was fairly sure I knew what the rates they’d quote would be, based on our initial discussion many months ago. What I didn’t realize was how much things changed when my specific details were factored in post-surgery. Everything from (you guessed it) my “young” age and the size of my tumor to the fact that it had spread to my lymph nodes and there was lymphovascular invasion (LVI) influence the recommended treatment.

So what convinced me? The numbers. The fact that right now my chance of recurrence is approximately 15% and by doing the radiation it brings down the chance of recurrence to 5-7% . That’s a lot more than the 3% improvement I was expecting. I can say no to a 3% improvement – but 7-10%? Even as much as I want this all to just be done, I can’t ignore that.

Tuesday is my last chemo session. But it’s not the end I wanted. It’s like the end of the last chemo session – it’s just the conclusion of another chapter in this never-ending saga. In the next week I will have to go to Dr. H and have him partially deflate my left tissue expander so it won’t get in the way of the radiation. Then the Thursday after Thanksgiving I’ll go in for the radiation planning session where they’ll tattoo marks on me to make sure they radiate the right area each day.

Yes, each day. Monday through Friday for five weeks – 25 sessions. Luckily they will only be a few minutes each time, so I will be able to continue to work through it. The biggest side effects are continued fatigue, redness and soreness. And, since my lymph nodes were removed, the increased risk that the radiation could trigger lymphedema. (I will be praying about that one – really don’t want that!)

And the biggest bummer of it all for me? Postponing the surgery I was supposed to have on January 2. I thought I’d start 2013 with surgery and pretty much be done, but now I’ll be doing radiation and have to wait six more months to switch out the tissue expanders for implants. Then a few months after that will be the nipple surgery and then a few months after that will be the tattooing. Oh – and then the five years of tamoxifen. It really is the never-ending saga…

But it’s worth it. To do everything I can to be cancer free. To fight every step of the way. To not have to look back and wonder, “if only I…” because I have, in fact, done everything within my power to get rid of it and prevent it from coming back. So I can continue to wake up each morning, breathe in and breathe out, and thank God for another day.

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Beat Up

Posted in Cancer, chemotherapy, Decisions, family, Planning, radiation, tagged , , , , , , , , , on November 13, 2012| 8 Comments »

As mom, Tina and I walked out of Dana-Farber today, we were all unusually quiet. “I feel … beat up,” I finally said. We all looked up at each other and got small, weary smiles on our faces; looking at them, I could see they felt just as drained as I did.

I know this hasn’t been easy on any of my family and friends. It’s been a nightmare for us all. And just the thought of it being extended is wearing on us all…

Today was week 11 of Taxol, week 23 of chemo. Next week will be my last chemo session. I should be excited. But I’m not. I can’t be. Not yet. Not until after tomorrow’s discussion with the radiation oncologist. Because we may not be done yet.

Mom and Tina debated this with me at chemo today. “We have to celebrate,” mom said. No, it may not be the end. “But even if you have radiation, you’ll be done with chemo and we should celebrate that,” tried Tina. Tara and Kristen brought up the same thing this weekend. “We need to have a post-chemo party!” But no. If I have radiation Monday through Friday for six weeks, in my mind, there is nothing to celebrate. At least not until that is over.

So we’ll see what tomorrow brings.

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Week 10 and Distraction in Nashville

Posted in Boston, Cancer, chemotherapy, Decisions, family, Road trip, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 7, 2012| Leave a Comment »

Today was week 10 of Taxol. And it went very smoothly. Only two infusions: pepcid and Taxol, since I did well last week without any Benedryl or steroids. It makes it a quicker visit and I’m able to stay completely alert for the infusion. The port is working out well, although I was hoping it could come out right after the last infusion but it’s recommended I keep it in until after surgery in January. At least it’s not as tender any more so I can handle it bumping up against my boobs of steel until then…

There was another recommendation today, too: talk to the radiation team. I had decided not to do radiation for a number of reasons, but I never did meet with them after surgery. They never called and I didn’t call them. I know that’s pretty weak, and now that my doctor has pushed it, I will call and listen. It doesn’t mean I will definitely do it – I really, really don’t want to – but I will consider it. So while there are only two weeks to go with the Taxol, it may not be the end of treatment.

Nashville was a fabulous distraction. Tina has made it her mission to keep me distracted throughout this entire process and she certainly pulled off the ultimate distraction by winning this fabulous trip! We had such a good time, with so much packed into just a few days. It really was a once in a lifetime experience, thanks to Tina sharing our story, Give the Gift of Music and the Country Music Association.

Music has always been healing for me. Certain songs are like therapy. And for a country music fan, being back in Music City brought a rush of emotions. In part it felt kind of like I was back on the road trip, and brought me back to where I was in my life two years ago, thinking about the road I’ve taken (literally and figuratively) and how much things have changed, for better or worse. If I’d chosen to settle in xxxx, how would this story have gone? One thing I know for sure, I am so thankful I’m in Boston, for the incredible support network of friends and family, to be working at Genzyme and because of Dana-Farber. I know that some of the other parts of the country I considered moving to do not have anything that (at least in my mind) compares to the support and the care I am so lucky to have here.

Tina was a great balance of watching over me (reminding me to wear a mask on the plane so I didn’t get sick and going with a slower pace, including daily naps) and finding us fun things to do.  I was excited to go to a few places I didn’t get to see on my road trip, like the Loveless Cafe, The Country Music Hall of Fame and the inside of The Ryman. And then there were the shows…

The CMAs were simply awesome. We had great seats and you could feel the excitement vibrating throughout the arena. From the moment the lights dimmed and the live show began, it was more like a concert with a few awards sprinkled in than a typical awards show. We couldn’t have asked for a better show to see in person!

We returned to the arena two nights later to see another show: the taping of the CMA Country Christmas show, which will air on TV in late December. Many of the same artists performed, with a few new ones sprinkled in like John Legend and Colbie Caillett. What was really interesting was because this isn’t live, there was a ton of stop and starts, and some retakes, even of songs. So what will be a one hour show took about three hours to tape. We enjoyed every second!

And while this was a great distraction, there was no completely getting away from things. Nearly every place we went, someone would ask me if I was still in treatment or what it is that I have. You guessed it – I went bald (well, I have a bit of baby hair now, but basically bald) the whole time, so was a little hard to miss. Had I worn a wig, I highly doubt I would’ve had any of those interactions. And I would have missed out on talking to so many kind, caring people who have had cancer or a close loved one with it. Honestly, making those connections are the best part of this nightmare experience.

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