tamoxifen | Amy's America

Posts Tagged ‘tamoxifen’

Flashback

Posted in Boston, Cancer, chemotherapy, family, Fundraising, prayer, recovery, tagged Boston, breast cancer, cancer, chemo, Dana-Farber, diagnosis, doctors, family, prayer, recovery, tamoxifen, The Jimmy Fund on August 18, 2013| 2 Comments »

The other night I was at a family party, laughing and eating and chatting away with everyone, when another guest arrived. She walked slowly, tentatively as if it hurt to move. She wore a heavy coat even though it’s August because she gets chilled so easily. And her face was pale, with sunken eyes. I heard one of her relatives whispering about her having just taken a Compazine to try to calm the nausea.

A feeling of nausea suddenly rushed over me – it brought me right back to one year ago. Getting poked repeatedly to try to find a decent vein for the IV before we gave up and had the port put in. Feeling sick on the way to the hospital just because I knew what was coming. Sitting in the big comfy infusion chair, wrapped in heated blankets. Trying to smile and laugh as my family and friends tried to distract me and keep my spirits up, as the poison rushed through my veins. Feeling loopy on the ride home – and then sick for days.

I am so lucky. That was a short period in time for me – and every day it gets buried further in my past and becomes a smaller percentage of my overall life. This woman – as so many others – is not so lucky. It’s too late, they explained to me after she left. They’ve done all they can but it’s spread so much there’s nothing else they can do, except try to keep her comfortable. My heart ached for her and her family. And my mind raced, repeatedly thanking God for letting me find that lump when I did, and for being able to stop the cancer in its tracks.

I am scared all the time. I, like many survivors I know, see Tamoxifen as my wonder drug. As long as I’m on it, it will ward off the recurrence. I should be safe. But what then? There is no telling. A lot can happen in a few years – particularly in research and development. Maybe by then they will be able to not only detect earlier, but prevent – and cure. So I have hope.

It all takes money, though. This is why I’m doing the Jimmy Fund Boston Marathon Walk on Sunday, September 8. I want to do everything I can to stop this monster of a disease. Please join our team – Team Inspire Boston – and walk with us, or sponsor me. You can walk 3 miles, 5 miles, 13.1 miles or the full marathon: 26.2 miles. No matter what you decide – to walk or sponsor us (and no amount is too small – every cent counts!) – you will be helping to kick cancer and helping people like me (and maybe you) live a longer, happier life. Thank you.

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Not Yet, AKA Be Patient

Posted in Boston, Cancer, chemotherapy, family, prayer, radiation, recovery, tagged Boston, breast cancer, cancer, chemo, Dana-Farber, doctors, mastectomy, reconstruction, side effects, tamoxifen on June 4, 2013| 1 Comment »

I felt stupid as silent tears streamed down my face as I walked through the bridge connecting Brigham and Women’s, where I’d just seen Dr.H, my reconstructive surgeon, and Dana-Farber, where I was parked. And I was mad at myself for not making it to my car before crying.

This was the appointment where I was supposed to be cleared to have the implant surgery, so I could start to feel normal again, rather than have these two solid rocks sticking out from my chest. But instead I learned that my body just isn’t ready. I quickly explained that I’m seeing a trainer, and my physical therapist, and that I can ask them for exercises to loosen me up, and Dr. H looked at me sympathetically and said ‘Its not you, dear, there’s nothing you can do. It’s just your body, your tissues just aren’t loosening and ready.” Then he patted my arm, smiled broadly and said ” If you do find a way, let me know – I have 250 other patients who would love it!”

I hate it when there is nothing I can do, when it is completely out of my control. I left feeling totally and utterly disappointed. I really thought the end was somewhat in sight. But now I can’t even think about scheduling the next surgery until I see him again in September. Ugh. This really is the neverending story. Hence the tears. As soon as they started flowing I made a pit stop in Dana-Farber’s Healing Garden, the oasis where I feel a little less stupid crying, and usually can calm myself down.

Why did I feel stupid? Because this is simply a little set back. It’s cosmetic, essentially. And people in these hospitals have so much bigger problems. I am lucky. I am done with all treatment but tamoxifin. My hair is growing back. And I am going to be fine. So really, the tears were unnecessary. I wish my mind could have just convinced my body of that! I guess we can’t control everything. Or, sometimes, anything. And we just have to wait.

When Nick and I both got home tonight I told him my disappointing news. He hugged me and said he’s sorry, but maybe it’s for the best. I looked at him like he’s crazy and he just shrugged and said “Hey, you’re the one who always says everything happens for a reason, so maybe there’s a reason for this.” How can I debate that? I can’t, so I will listen and I will try to be patient. Definitely not one of my virtues…

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Missed Spring

Posted in Boston, Cancer, chemotherapy, Discovery, Fundraising, hair, lymphedema, prayer, recovery, work, tagged Boston, breast cancer, cancer, chemo, Dana-Farber, diagnosis, doctors, hair, lymphedema, mastectomy, prayer, reality, reconstruction, side effects, tamoxifen on May 13, 2013| Leave a Comment »

Friday night I attended the Birds and All That Jazz fundraiser at Tara’s Mass Audubon Sanctuary, Oak Knoll, in Attleboro. It was a relaxing evening of music and mingling (and food and wine), all in the name of charity. (What girl doesn’t love a reason to get dressed up – especially when there’s wine and chocolate involved? See pictures below. ) And luckily, it was a beautiful night, with a warm breeze and what I now know were tree frogs (not birds, as I originally thought), providing a natural soundtrack to the event. I was talking with a few people who commented how much of a better turnout the event had this year, when it occurred to me that I didn’t attend in 2012. I looked quizzically at Kevin and asked “Why wasn’t I here last year?” and he gave me one of those knowing, smiling, “Duh, Amy” looks. Oh yea. Because I got cancer. I looked at the woman next to me, shook my head and simply said “It doesn’t matter. But I certainly would’ve rather been here.”

I missed last spring. Completely. I really don’t remember it. In my mind, it jumped from cold February to warm July. My spring was finding the lump, diagnosis, breast cancer 101, Dana-Farber, surgery at Brigham and Women’s, the start of treatment and my grandfather passing away. It was a gut-wrenching, often medicated, blur.

It makes this spring that much more special. I have always loved spring – it’s the time when things come alive and can begin again. And I am so ready to begin again! I had my first official check-up at Dana-Farber with my oncologist and all seems well. It’s a little anticlimactic, as they don’t really do any tests – it’s just making sure you’re not having any symptoms, and if not, assuming all is fine. (Yes, a big leap of faith – something where you really just need to take deep breaths, remain calm and positive, and pray.)

And all is basically fine. I am having a flair-up of lymphedema, and will call to make an appointment with my physical therapist, but in the meantime have been doing the exercises and wearing the glove and sleeve (even though I can’t stand them) most of the time. Otherwise, all seems ok. The side effects of the Tamoxifin have subsided – not many hot flashes any more – and while the chemo side effects of tingling in my hands and feet continue, I’m now trying a B-complex vitamin to see if it will help. And of course I’m tired – but I can hardly blame the cancer or treatment on that, at least not completely. Nothing is limiting my work or other activities and I am very thankful for that!

My hair is growing, and normal life is resuming. I know that I am blessed. And I am going to cherish this spring and take advantage of beginning again…