Last Radiation

On Tuesday, December 14th I underwent my last radiation treatment. Since October, I've had 34 radiation treatments. The first 26 were regular radiation zaps, aimed at the entire breast and armpit. The last eight were 'boosts'; radiation treatments targeting my scar and the place where the tumor was located. I feel great - I have some mild irritation and continue to have pain in the breast from the radiation. But compared to chemotherapy, radiation was extremely tolerable. I'm happy to be done so that I can move on with my life.

The last nine months have been scary, introspective and downright depressing at times. Here is what I've experienced since finding the lump in February:

- Four surgeries (excisional biopsy, lumpectomy with sentinel node biopsy, port placement and removal).
- One month of fertility preservation treatment. This included daily shots, ultrasounds, pills and an outpatient surgical procedure to retrieve the eggs.
- Six rounds of chemotherapy. I was given Adriamycin, Taxotere and Cytoxin every three weeks in one big chemo cocktail.
- 34 zaps of radiation
- Countless scans...ultrasound of the breast, ultrasound of the thyroid, a breast MRI, MUGA, chest x-ray, CT scan of the lungs, venogram, ultrasound of the arm.
- Too many IVs and blood draws to count.

Things could have been worse; I am lucky. I had Stage I cancer with an excellent prognosis. But I have to be vigilant about everything from now on. I had a highly estrogen receptive tumor that was fast growing and dividing. There is no guarantee it won't come back, but I am determined to do everything I can to never go through this again. I am also determined to educate women my age about self breast exams and warning signs.

So what's next? Healing - mentally and physically. I have to wait six weeks before I have a mammogram and blood work to determine if the cancer is really gone. I am optimistic I will get a clean bill of health in February.

The Radiation Game

Radiation is a piece of cake! It is the complete opposite of chemotherapy. When I was going through chemo, everyday was a struggle. It was hard to get out of bed, eat, sleep, concentrate...even smiling was tough some days. I was so tired and depressed. It felt like the life had been sucked out of me. Its been over eight weeks since my last infusion. During those eight weeks, I've had my port, Phyllis, removed and I've undergone 26 radiation treatments. None of those have come close the hell that is chemotherapy.

So that leads me back to my first sentence: Radiation is a piece of cake. While that may sound a little flippant, that's the point. Chemo and radiation are so different, yet so similar. While chemotherapy was physically torturous, radiation is mentally grueling. Radiation is everyday. I have my treatments at a hospital. On the door to the radiation center at Alexandria Hospital, it says "Cancer Center". So every day, for the last five weeks, I've gone to an office at 8:00 am that says "Center Center". Do you think that's easy? Not at all. While the drive there is uneventful, the 15 minutes I am at the Cancer Center is the worst 15 minutes of the day. Its not because the treatment hurts (because it doesn't). Its because everyday, I am reminded that I have cancer. I am reminded that there are cells in my body that want to kill me. I'm reminded that in a way, I'm on borrowed time. If this was 20 years ago, I probably wouldn't have the good prognosis I have today. That's a pretty awful thing to deal with emotionally.

When I get to the Cancer Center each morning, the whole 15 minutes is very routine. I scan my badge at the door so they know I'm there. I walk into the center, past the front desk and into the women's changing room. I take off my clothes, from the waist up, put on a gown and wait in a changing room with other women with breast cancer. None of us have hair - we're a mix of wigs, hats and scarves. We are of all ages - two women who have treatment with me are in their 50's, another women is in her 70's and another woman is a year younger than I am. We are so different in age, race, occupation and economics. But we are all the same. For the 10 minutes I see these women each morning, we are like an old knitting circle....gabbing away about this ache, that drug, this scan and that doctor. I feel like these women are my sisters.

Each woman is called back based on her appointment time. Even if you get there early, you may need to wait for your designated time slot. This is all computerized so each appointment time is based on how long your treatment is. My radiation treatments are fast - less than 2 minutes each day so I am one of the lucky ones who can often get 'squeezed in' when I need to get out of there and to work quickly. Once called back, I have to verify my name and DOB with the radiation tech so I get the right treatment. Then the gown comes off, I lay on the table and they match up the five tattoos on my chest with the radiation machine. This takes about another minute. Then the techs leave the room, I told my breath four times and I'm done. The machine makes a loud buzzing noise and that's it - its over. No burning, no pain.

Once treatment is over, I have to apply cream to the treated area. I do this four times a day and put a heavier cream on it at night. Around treatment #15, I started to get pink and a little sore. Now, at treatment #26, I'm burned, have pain and have difficulty wearing anything fitted around my chest.

The last eight radiation treatments are called "boosts". These treatments target the scar on my breast from the lumpectomy and target any remaining cells around the 'margin' where my tumor was located. These treatments are even shorter than the previous radiation treatments. The entire session takes less than one minute. So while radiation has been physically easier than chemotherapy, mentally its been a challenge.

Top 10 Things to NEVER Say to a Cancer Patient

Over the last seven months, I've heard almost every type of comment, statement, question, etc about me, cancer and medical issues in general. I'm putting together a list of some of the more choice comments made in an attempt to have a sense of humor about things!

10. "When is your hair going to grow back?"
Well genius, let me whip out my magic 8 ball and see what it tells me. "Not any time soon"...that's what its telling me! In all seriousness, everyone is different. Some people's hair starts growing immediately following the last chemo. Others don't see any real hair for a few months. And the color and feel of the hair is never what it was prior to chemotherapy.

9. "I knew you were really sick going through chemo because you looked terrible. You look so much better now."
Um, wow! Thanks! Guess what? At least I had an excuse - you're just ugly everyday! (No, I didn't say this to the person, but I wanted to!)

8. "How do you feel about your diagnosis?"
A friend asked me this about a month after my diagnosis and I really didn't know what to make of the question. I think people confuse 'diagnosis' with 'prognosis'. And people also don't understand that 'treatment' is also different from 'diagnosis' and 'prognosis'. I should have told her to get a dictionary and look up the word 'diagnosis'. I don't know anyone who would be happy with a cancer diagnosis!

7. "Oh, I miss your hair!"
Yes, another woman said this to me. I was speechless at this one. YOU miss MY hair? How do you think I feel????

6. "My wife's mother died of breast cancer."
This is something that really bothers me. Some people feel the need to tell you that they know someone (mother, grandmother, aunt, friend, etc) who died of the exact cancer you have. This is not what ANY cancer patient wants to hear. This is like saying "oh I know someone with blond hair just like you who died". Everyone knows someone (unfortunately) who died of cancer. People in active treatment do NOT need to hear about anything other than people who survived cancer.

5. "You really look great."
People really mean well. They do! But hearing this makes me think one of two things. First, did I look like crap before? Or second, is the person telling me this trying to make me feel better because they think I actually look sick? I don't know. I just smile whenever someone tells me this.

4. "Did you lose your breast?"
This is such a personal question. And believe it or not, a man asked me this. Its really none of any one's business what body parts you have or don't have anymore. If a person wants to offer it, that's one thing, but outright asking if you've had a mastectomy is pretty insensitive.

3. "You better not have any girls since you and your mom had breast cancer."
Breast cancer isn't necessarily genetic. Something caused one cell in my breast to mutate, which caused cancer cells to grow and multiply. Estrogen fueled this cancer growth. Just because my mother and I had breast cancer does not mean that my female offspring will have it. My son could get breast cancer! This just shows that even with all the "awareness" out there about breast cancer, most people are pretty ignorant about the disease and the genetics of cancer. I am BRCA1 and BRCA2 negative, thank you very much!

2. "You must have saved so much money not needing haircuts"
Again, this just shows people's ignorance. Yes, I've saved a lot of money not needing my hair cut. But my medical bills have cost me over $8,000 so far (and that's with good insurance!). So even that small savings in hair cuts has not outweighed the cost of chemotherapy, surgeries, medications, radiation and tests.

1. "I would never know you are going through cancer treatment, minus the scarf of course!"
Again, this lovely statement was made by another woman! I swear, some people just don't get it. If you don't' know what to say, don't say anything at all!

4 zaps down, 30 to go

Once I am done with my 34 zaps I radiation, I will be done with treatment. Radiation has been relatively easy so far - I go to Alexandria Hospital every morning at 8:00 am, lay on a table for about five minutes and then I'm done. The longest part of the whole treatment is lining up the five tattoos I received with the machine. Once I'm set up, I have to hold my breath four separate times. Holding a deep breath puts more air in my lungs, which pushes my heart out of the way of the radiation beams. Its how the radiation oncologist ensures that only a small part of my heart is impacted by the radiation. Have you every held your breath for 30 seconds? Its difficult!

The radiation oncologist gave me some cream I have to put on four times a day. It will lessen the burning and discomfort that comes around zap #20. So far, I've been terrible about putting it on. I mean, who has time to lather up four times a day when working? And the cream smells funny and leaves this weird film all over my chest. Ick.

I'm still pretty tired - I would like a nap everyday around 2:00 pm. But with work and Liam, its tough to take naps. As radiation continues on, I may need to start taking time to sleep every afternoon because I don't want to risk lowering my immunity.

On Friday, I saw my oncologist for a physical. My blood work came back better than it has since June. My white and red blood cell counts are still low, but within normal range. So basically, they are on the low side of normal. I need to start taking a multi-vitamin again. I couldn't stomach those during chemo so I stopped taking them. Now I need to get back on the healthy bandwagon and begin with vitamins and greens shakes again.

I asked about weight loss and getting back into shape. Since I started working out again last week, I've noticed that I have excruciating pain in my legs and hands. I know muscle pain from a good work out and this is completely different. It aching in my joints, like I'm an old woman. I asked about this and my oncologist told me that this is due to two things. First, my white blood cell count is still relatively low and the Nuelasta shots I got during chemo to up my counts are still affecting my bones. So my body's attempt to make more cells caused changes in my bones, hence causing the pain I'm experiencing. Second, my body is making no estrogen right now. This leads to weakened bones, or osteoporosis. While this is temporary (I hope my whole reproductive system goes back to 'normal' soon), it causes bone pain. Both of these together can cause pain and working out only exacerbates the pain. So for right now, walking, typing, etc causes pain and discomfort.

On Tuesday, I will get the results of the biopsy of the lump on my arm. I am sure its nothing, but I still have anxiety about what the outcome will be. The biggest fear all cancer patients have is recurrence. Between the bone pain and the lump on my arm, my fear is that its metastasized in my bones. I know this is a silly fear because I am going through an aggressive regiment, but its a fear that can't be helped because it only takes one cell. While I am positive in my belief that I will live a long life, its always something in the back of the mind.

Bye Bye Phyllis!

I am celebrating this evening because Phyllis, my mediport, is gone! Dr. Weintritt removed her today during a very brief surgery at Mt. Vernon Hospital. He also removed the lump that was on arm and said that it appears to be a cyst.

The difference with this surgery is that I was awake during the procedure. Very strange, I know. I wasn't sure if I could handle it, but then I likened it to a c-section and felt OK with it. The needle sticks they gave me were the most pain or discomfort I experienced. I could feel tugging and pressure, but I never felt any pain. Thank goodness!

Tomorrow, I start my next leg of the journey: radiation. 34 zaps and I will be cancer-free.

My Next Adventure

My next adventure in Cancerland is radiation. I met with my radiation oncologist today to go over my 'case' and my treatment options. For someone with my statistics, there really aren't multiple options I get to choose from. There is one protocol for women who had a lumpectomy and underwent chemotherapy. That protocol is 34 rounds of radiation. 28 of those rounds are a one minute zap and 4 of those rounds are a 'boost'. So that's what I'm getting!

On Friday, my radiation oncologist will simulate a radiation session with me to determine where to place the three beams that will deliver the zaps. There is a lot of math and physics involved in this simulation because they need to avoid some major organs. Because my breast cancer was on the left side, my heart and lung are of concern. Unfortunately, they cannot avoid my heart. So a small portion of the heart will get radiated each day. And a small piece of my lung will also receive some kind of damage. The radiation oncologist said it can't be avoided and she will do her best to ensure that none of the damage will cause long term problems.

The side effects of radiation are a lot less than chemotherapy. My skin will turn pink, like a sun burn, and I will end up itching and irritated. Think about the worst sun burn you ever received as a kid. That's what radiation is like! I think I had about five really bad sunburns before the time I turned 18 so I'm all good with what to expect! There is a lot that can be done to mitigate those side effects. Creams, cotton bras, no underwire and aluminum-free deodorants help decrease any pain and irritation that may be caused by the treatment. So the doctor sent me home with a radiation shopping list to get ready for my next big adventure in cancer land.

Some of the long term side effects really do concern me. I never felt scared about chemotherapy, I just looked at it as a necessary evil. But radiation really scares me. Some of the long term side effects include:
1. My breast will most likely shrink and be permanently discolored. So....no more topless sunbathing.
2. I can never breastfeed from the radiated breast because radiation permanently damages the milk ducts. This actually really upsets me because breastfeeding Liam was such a huge bonding experience. If I am lucky enough to have another baby, this will be something that I need to deal with emotionally.
3. If I ever have a local recurrence of breast cancer in the left breast, I cannot have anymore radiation. This would mean that I would need a mastectomy to ensure that all the cancer was removed/killed.
4. My lung capacity in my left lung will decrease between 3-8% from radiation. Even though I will still be able to run and exercise like everyone else, this could cause issues if I end up with any lung infections or breathing issues (pneumonia, bronchitis, etc).

So there you have it! All these things they do to kill the cancer and avoid a recurrence have risks and unintended consequences. This is what I hate about cancer...they make you sick, to make you better. But, radiation is a necessary evil for all women who have lumpectomies - its part of the treatment protocol. I could have elected to have a mastectomy to avoid a lot of this, but then I would dealing with a whole host of other issues. So I continue to be happy with the treatment choices I've made and the doctors I've selected to treat me. I can't wait to start radiation because its one step closer to ending this chapter in my life.

Done with Chemo

Yes, you read that title correctly...I am done with chemo! My last infusion was Friday and I could not be happier. Today I am tired and have limited energy, but my mental state is a thousand times better than ever. I feel positive and happy to be done, but scared of having no more chemicals in my body seeking out and destroying pesky cancer cells.

For my last treatment, my former Chief, mentor and friend, David Baker, sat with me for four hours as I got my chemo cocktail. We talked a lot about his ordeal last summer and my current health challenges. To say that he is an inspiration is an understatement. He has taken an awful life experience and turned it around into a positive. I hope to do the same with my situation, turning an unexpected diagnosis into something that will shape me, my views and my life focus for many years to come.

Although I am still in active treatment, chemotherapy is over. Although I am happy and relieved, I am scared and worried as well. For someone with my diagnosis, there is no 'test' at the end of the road to tell me I am cancer-free. I read about a lot of women who have that final PET scan or blood work that gives them the good news. Because I am stage 1 and had aggressive treatment, there is no test for me. No PET scan, no blood work. I just need to believe I am cured. How does that sit with me? Not well at all. I was told I will only be tested if I have symptoms of mets to the bones, liver or lungs.

Well, what are those symptoms? I'm not really sure. Bone pain? I get that a lot when I work out or run. Shortness of breath? I have it right now from chemo. Other lumps? I have one right now on my arm. So to say that ending active treatment has given me peace of mind is a serious falsehood. Ending chemotherapy freaks me out. There will be no more cancer fighting drugs in my body. Any hibernating bears that still exist can begin to grow again and that scares me more than another round of chemo.

So what's next for me? I've decided to see another radiation oncologist. The drive every day to Arlington Hospital Center is just going to be too much for me. So I am going to see another radiation oncologist at INOVA Alexandria and have my six weeks of radiation there. On October 25th, my port will be surgically removed, along with the lump on my arm. And the first week in November, I start radiation. I will get 30 zaps over a six week period. January 1, I will start two years of Tamoxefin to suppress the Estrogen in my body. After two years, I can go ahead and try and have another baby.

Even though chemo is over, cancer isn't over for me yet. I've still got some treatments to endure and some healing to do. A lot of the healing now is mental and physical. Gaining strength and mental acuity back can take up to six months. My brain, skin, hair and reproductive cells have been under attack for four months. It takes a while for those cells to heal and to regenerate. Short term memory loss and trouble focusing have been major hurdles for me and I hope to regain my edge soon. I'll just keep healing and know I will be myself again one day. New normal or not, I will be back in tip top fighting shape soon.

Last Chemo Tomorrow

YES! Tomorrow is my last chemo treatment (hopefully) ever. I've never been excited to sit in the chemo chair, but believe it or not, I'm looking forward it tomorrow. It will be the last time I enter that room as a patient. I hope to one day enter that room as a survivor who is there to encourage and help other women affected by the disease.

I have a real mix of emotions going into my last treatment. My nerves are at their normal heightened level the night before any treatment. But I'm strangely excited for tomorrow because its the last one. I'm emotional because its been four months of hell that I'm ready to put behind me. I'm happy that my side effects were (for the most part) manageable. I'm sad that there are many women who endure much more than I have, only to succumb to the disease. I'm scared of being actively 'done' with chemotherapy and not knowing if its all 'gone' and if I'm in remission. And I'm scared it will come back and one day kill me. Because of all of these emotions, I've been a wreck all day.

My last pre-chemo visit with Dr. Denduluri went well today. Aside from my counts, she said I look good and am responding well to treatment. My white blood cell count is on the edge and my red blood cell count and hemaglobin are below the normal range. Its just a cumulative effect of treatment. The more chemo you pump into someone's body, the lower their counts go - its normal.

So tomorrow is it! Then its one last surgery and onto six weeks of radiation. So by Christmas, I will be in remission and cancer-free. It will be the best Christmas of my life.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month

October is 12 days away and already the TV, radio and the web are full of pink ribbons, 3-day walks and scary statistics about how many women are diagnosed with breast cancer each year. Its not even October yet and I'm so over it. So. over. it.

I will give you some examples: I ate an Activia yogart today...it had a pink ribbon on the container. I flipped through Self magazine last night...it had a full page pink ribbon ad for Lean Cuisine. I opened my Facebook page and in the corner was a 'buy a pink ribbon' ad. A year ago I would have thought, "oh how nice", counted on my fingers how many years my mom has been a survivor, and went on my merry way. This year its different because its very personal. And I'm very annoyed.

You are probably thinking my annoyance is due to the fact that I'm in the middle of one the hardest treatment protocols for breast cancer patients. That may be partially to blame. But I think I share the same frustration as many young "survivors". I will try my best to explain my feelings without sounding too harsh and critical.

Breast cancer has become "cool" for product advertising. Kentucky Fried Chicken had pink Buckets for the Cure last year. Websites like the Pink Ribbon Shop sell only that...items with pink ribbons on them. Did people sit in a room and design necklaces with ribbons intertwined in them and think "if we design it, they will buy?". Who buys this stuff? Not me. Not any woman I know who's had breast cancer. Did people buy more Kentucky Friend Chicken last October because the bucket was pink? Why would Komen WANT women to eat fried chicken when its proven that fatty diets and unhealthy lifestyles often contribute to the growth of cancer cells in the body?

When did having cancer become en vogue and an advertising executive's wet dream?

Maybe instead of a pink ribbon on a yogart, they should list the warning signs of breast cancer next to the ingredients: dimpled/thickened skin on the breast, inverted nipple, discharge from the nipple, pealing/flaking breast skin. I think THAT would help a lot more than a ribbon. Or, if they really want to help women through the Lean Cusine ad in Self, give information about how to do a monthly self breast exam. Because unfortunately, most women don't know how to do a self breast exam correctly and don't know what to feel for when doing one.

I know, I know, you are probably saying "she's an idiot because all these companies donate money to breast cancer research". Do they really? The Pink Ribbon website says that they "make periodic donations to various organizations in an effort to find a cure for cancer, assist cancer patients, and reduce cancer deaths through education initiatives that promote early detection. To date your purchases have led to donations of $27,191!!" How much do they donate, what research firms do they donate to and how much of the money really goes toward research? This ambiguitous statement doesn't answer those questions.

Don't get me wrong - I don't hate the Susan G Komen fund. They are the reason breast cancer is on the proverbial map now. Thank God for Susan G. Komen. Thank God her sister, Nancy Brinker, decided to launch a worldwide movement when Susan died in her 30's from breast cancer. I participate in the 5K every year. I donate money. I use the website. It was the first website I went to when I was diagnosed. It helped me understand my pathology report and explained what every number meant. But all that being said, I can't help but be annoyed by the Susan G Komen fund. It just seems like breast cancer awareness has morphed into this money making machine that's more about marketing and advertising than about the actual disease and the life changing treatments women endure.

So what do I advocate you do during Breast Cancer Awareness Month? If you feel inclined to donate money to a breast cancer cause, please consider the following non-profits:

The Young Survival Coalition (www.youngsurvival.org) was formed by breast cancer survivors who are 40 and under. They advocate for better screening for young women, more resources, clinical trials and treatment. Breast cancer in young women presents unique challenges related to fertility, employment, insurance and quality of life. Most doctors still believe that we're 'too young' for breast cancer. YSC is trying to change that attitude in the medical profession and in the insurance industry.

The Pink Daisy Project (www.pinkdaisyproject.org) was created by a YSC member a few years ago to provide young women with breast cancer with simple resources like house cleaning, groceries and transportation to/from treatment. Again, breast cancer in young women creates challenges because most are primary care givers for children or primary breadwinners. The Pink Daisy Project helps those who are struggling to accomplish simple tasks like making meals and cleaning the house.

Fertile Hope (www.fertilehope.org) was created by Lance Armstrong to help those diagnosed with cancer defray the costs of fertility preservation treatments. As many of you know, fertility treatments can run into the tens of thousands of dollars. Most insurance companies do not cover these treatments. Fertile Hope helps young men and women diagnosed with cancer pay for costly drugs and procedures to can help preserve their fertility after treatments are complete.

If you want to get involved instead of donating money, think about doing the following:
1. Call your local hospital. Many have breast cancer screening or oncology centers. Volunteer for a few hours. Ask about programs that deliver meals or other services to women going through treatment and volunteer if they provide these kinds of services.
2. Email the Young Survival Coalition and ask for a box of their 'breast cancer in young women' brochure. Take it to your primary care or Ob/Gyn and ask them to display it at the front desk.
3. Talk to your female friends about breast cancer. Do they know how to do a self exam? If they are 40 and older, have they had an annual mammography? Do any of your friends have a history of breast cancer in their family? Are they educated about the BRCA1 & BRCA2 mutations and other genetic testing?

While these things seems small, they make a major impact in women's lives. I have been touched by the outpouring of help we've received by friends, coworkers and family over the last five months. People have cooked for us, watched Liam, taken me to treatments, picked up medications...all of these things have helped us deal with the day-to-day struggles that cancer brings with it. I am blessed to have these people in my life. Unfortunately, many women diagnosed with breast cancer are not as fortunate and truly need the basics to get through surgery, treatment and recovery.

So while Komen donates millions per year to breast cancer research, I will continue advocate for the small non-profits who make their impact on the disease in another way. Komen and the "pink branding" may be mainstream and here to stay. But there are certainly other ways that we can all mark Breast Cancer Awareness Month and truly make an impact on women's lives.

Scans and Results

Today I was hoping to get some results regarding my port and the lump on my arm. Unfortunately, both tests came back inconclusive for the cause of the issues.

Jim took me for a venogram of my port today at Mount Vernon Hospital. It was very easy - they accessed my port, put some contrast through it and took lots of pictures. I was in and out in one hour. Immediately, they were able to tell there were no blockages or masses in the port line. When they took the needle out of the port, white fluid leaked out again. The doctor came in to look at the fluid and was unable to determine what it was and if it was an infection. Again, they took a culture and told me I would hear something in two days.

I went home, called my oncologist and found out that the culture from Friday showed no infection. As the nurse said on the other end of the line "we have no idea what's coming out of our port". Great! So I will continue to take the Levaquin to ensure if there is bacteria in the port, its killed off so I can have my last treatment on October 1st.

After speaking to the oncologist, I called my surgeon regarding the biopsy of the lump on my arm. The results were non-diagnostic because there weren't enough cells to test. So they recommended I come back in and have the lump removed and biopsied. This can be done with a simple in office excisions biopsy and a few stitches.

So that's the update....this round has been HELL. Between the Levaquin that exhausts me, the exhaustion and nausea from chemo and the worry about the port and the lump, I have not been myself. This round has caused me a great deal of heartache, worry and depression like nothing I've experienced before. I need to stay positive and tell myself "just one more", but all these set backs are frustrating and scary. My hope is to get the last one done and never have to revisit this time in my life again.

Round #5

This is going to be a short entry because I'm wiped out.

My good friend Dianne Gittins took me to my fifth chemo infusion yesterday. I worked on a necklace while were were there and we just talked and hung out. It was pretty uneventful (as usual) until the end. When they took the needle out of my port, a bunch of funky fluid came out. It was white so my nurse immediately asked "you aren't still breast feeding, are you?". Um, no, that well went dry the day they told me I had breast cancer. Another nurse came in to see me, asking again if I was still breast feeding. NO I AM NOT!!! I was starting to get annoyed. Did they really think I'd be breast feeding Liam while having poison pumped into my body every three weeks!? Ridiculous!

The nurse took me into a private exam room and did a breast exam and felt all my lymph nodes. She also asked all the normal 'infection questions'...have you been running a fever? Has your port been red or inflamed? Have you had any exposure to infection over the last week?

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!

Then I heard the nurses out in the hallway throwing around terms like 'sepsis' and 'antibiotics'. Ugh, another drug? Really? After I put my shirt back on and went out in the hall, the nurse gave me a prescription for Levequin and a direct order: call your surgeon immediately Monday morning.

WAHHHHH!!!! Another visit to the surgeon? I seriously am so over seeing doctors. Although Dr. Weintritt is wonderful (and every nice to look at, I might add), I am tired, tired, tired of going to the doctor. So hopefully I can wrap this into the appointment next week to get the biopsy results of the lump on my arm.

So I'm down for the count for a few days. Resting up, eating what I can (who knew grilled cheese would sit so well after chemo?) Its my new cancer 'feel good' food. Going to rest now.

Update on the Lump

On Wednesday I saw my oncologist regarding the lump on my forearm. She reviewed the ultrasound report, took a look at it and decided that I should go back to my breast surgeon for him to assess it. She said it was probably a cyst, but she wasn't sure and wanted him to aspirate it.

Today, I was able to get in to see my surgeon. He did another ultrasound and aspirated the lump to send the cells to a pathologist. He said I should have the results by next Wednesday, but he felt confident it was nothing more than a lipoma (a fatty deposit).

I feel some sense of relief because I've followed through and had everything tested. Now I just need to wait for the results. I'm optimistic its nothing, but preparing myself for the worst (as always). There was a time when I never thought something 'bad' like cancer would affect me at this age. But knowing what I know now, I'm prepared to hear whatever the results are. Again, hoping for the best, preparing for the worst.

Tomorrow is my fifth round of chemo. After tomorrow I will only have one left. I cannot wait to have tomorrow behind me and only one more treatment left.

Another lump?

As my cancer survivor friends who follow this blog can attest, the biggest fear in our lives is recurrence. We are always worried about lumps, bumps, scans and bloodwork. This week, I had my first experience with a new lump. Talk about stress! Its turned my world (emotionally and mentally) upside down. Up until this point, I've been very positive and feeling like, "I can beat this thing". This week was the first time I truly felt like this thing could beat me. I'm trying to get back to the positive, but its been tough.

It all started with a lump on my forearm. I randomly looked down during a meeting and noticed this bulging lump under the skin on my forearm. I ran my finger over it, pushed on it, moved it and then pushed on it again. Kind of like I did with the lump I found in my breast - I played around with it for a few minutes to actually figure out what this bizarre lump was on my body. Immediately, I showed it to a coworker who is a cancer survivor. She looked at me and said "call your doctor". So I did.

As the day went on, my fingers felt numb at times. The lump started to feel noticeable. By that I mean that when I moved my arm, I felt it. When I typed, I felt it. When I extended my arm, I felt it. It didn't hurt and wasn't painful. But I knew it was there and that freaked me out. Kind of like the lump in my breast - it never hurt, but when I put on my bra, I could feel it. I knew it was there.

The advice nurse who I spoke to ran down the 10 questions they always ask whenever you call with something that's just not right. I told her about the numbness, the 'not right' feeling and then I mentioned...chest pains.

CHEST PAINS! Oh God, you would have thought I said I was dying.

That got me an appointment immediately. Not that I'm complaining...but as a chemotherapy patient, the minute you say 'chest pain', that's a free pass to see whomever you want. And I wasn't playing that card to get in immediately. I have had chest pains since Monday. I just didn't pay attention to them until I saw the lump. Then my mind went crazy, wandered to bad places and had me hovering over my casket, looking down at myself saying "if only you would have called the doctor when you felt those first few chest pains!". But seriously, the chest pain had concerned me b/c of the Adriamycin (one of my chemotherapy drugs). But with everything else going on...I figured, I'll see the doctor before my next session, mention to her and we'll see what she says. It wasn't a pressing issue for me.

I was able to see the doctor immediately. She looked at the lump on my arm and immediately said that she was worried it was a blood clot. The lump was located smack dab in the middle of my arm where one of my nice large green veins is located. She was worried and not taking any chances. I asked about cancer metastasizing in the bones and I was assured that if the lump was malignant, it would be the strangest presentation of metastatic breast cancer she had ever seen.

So the next three hours involved driving all over Northern Virginia to get scanned, poked and prodded. I needed to have an ultrasound at a cardiovascular center and then a CT scan at an imaging office. The ultrasound was first and took forever. The tech scanned the lump on my arm and immediately told me it was not a blood clot. THANK GOD. But as she looked at it further, it presented two very concerning characteristics: it was large (over 2 cm) and it was irregularly shaped. She also said she could not tell if there was fluid in it or not and could not rule in or out a cyst. She then scanned the veins in my neck, chest and arm and ruled out any other blood clots that could have caused the lump. This was all good news.

The doctor at the ultrasound center also looked at the pictures. She also could not tell what the lump on my arm was and recommended a fine needle aspiration to biopsy it. The word "biopsy" is a scary one for a cancer patient. I immediately felt hot, sweaty and anxious hearing that word. Six months ago I had a biopsy...one that I thought would yield nothing but a fibroid.

After the ultrasound, I got back in the car and went to the imaging center. I had a CT scan of my chest and luckily, it was clear for any clots or masses in the lungs. I was given the green light to go home. There would be no hospital visits for me! Again, THANK GOD.

So we are in a "wait and see" limbo right now. I see my doctor again on Wednesday and she will make a determination then. It could be a fatty deposit, it could be a cyst...or it could be something else. I am praying its nothing more than a fatty deposit (hey, I've gained 10 lbs so who the heck knows....this could be my body's way to telling me to lose some damn weight). But for me with my history, I can't help but worry and be a little scared.

Completely Exhausted!

Getting over the chemo hump took me about five days this time around. By Wednesday, I was able to work from home and had an easier time concentrating, reading and focusing. But the cumulative effect has hit me - I'm constantly tired and ready for bed by 8:00 every night. The doctor warned me of this when I began treatment. She said that chemotherapy builds over the duration of treatment and the fatigue would get worse. The last two days have been a challenge for me in the evening and I've been falling asleep earlier and earlier. I hope to get some energy back this weekend so I am refreshed and better rested on Monday.

Round #4 - Done!

My fourth round of chemo is done! I am 2/3s of the way there! My good friend Brenda D'Sylva took me to the infusion. We spent the day talking and I made jewelry - the day flew by!

No strange side effects except for the typical sinus headache. I was exhausted afterwards and went to bed at 7:30. I slept 12 hours, but woke up frequently due to a lot of nausea. Luckily, I never got sick, but I've been drinking Maalox like its water. The prescription the doctor gave me for Nexium was denied by my insurance (nice!). So it looks like I will be asking for Marinol this week. I can't take this sour stomach and queasiness anymore. Ick.

Today is Liam's birthday and I am planning to take a nice long nap before his birthday celebration. He is spending the afternoon at a friend's birthday party so I can sleep. I made him cupcakes and wrapped gifts Thursday - I can't wait to see his reaction to every ting! I just wish I felt a little better and could enjoy the day more.

Round #4 Tomorrow

It looks like things are a 'go' for Friday's chemo. I saw the doctor today and my white blood cell count is good. The only concern this time around is my iron level and hemoglobin. I am anemic to begin with and it looks like chemo has only made me more anemic. So as of today, I am taking an iron supplement (in addition to the multi-vitamin I already take).

The conversation (as usual) centered around nausea. This time around, my doctor wrote a prescription for Nexium. I am sure you all have seen the commercials for it on TV. I won't just be taking it during my chemo weeks, but everyday until I am done with treatment. This is due to an increase in stomach acid (produced by both the steroids and the chemo) which causes issues with how the cells of the stomach interact with the stomach lining (I know, this isn't the most scientific explanation so bare with me!). I will continue to take five days of steroids as opposed to three and see if that helps again reduce the nausea.

Another side effect that reared its ugly head this time around was excessive tearing of the eyes and a constant runny nose. This is due to Taxotere, one of the chemotherapy drugs. Taxotere dries out your mucus membranes throughout your body. So because of this, many chemo patients end up with sores in the mouth and nose, as well as dry surfaces of the eyes. Sometimes, the eyes combat the dryness by making more tears. This can cause issues with the tear ducts. I was referred to my eye doctor for an examination to make sure the tear ducts are functioning properly. My doctor was concerned because sometimes the tear ducts can get clogged when they are constantly producing tears, which can lead to red swollen corners of the eye and other problems. In the interim, I have to put saline drops in my eyes 4 - 5 times a day and massage the tear duct to make sure its not clogging.

The last thing we talked about was the 'chemopause'. We talked about the hot flashes and how I can minimize them. I was referred to the lifewithcancer.org website (which I am already using for support groups and advice) because they offer acupuncture for cancer patients at a reduced price. Acupuncture has been known to reduce hot flashes associated with menopause and minimize nausea associated with chemotherapy. So we'll see if I can get an appointment next week with an acupuncturist and if helps at all with these side effects. I am hopeful it will help.

Things I worry about

Everyone "worries" about things. Will my children be well adjusted? Will I have enough money for retirement? Will it rain tomorrow? Will I meet Mr./Mrs. Right?

Cancer patients and survivors worry too, but on a different level. I've been worrying a lot more than usual lately. My typical worry six months ago was if I could take off from work on Friday or if Jim's ex was going to be a bitch next time he picked Lauren for a weekend. Almost five months post-diagnosis, I try not to sweat the small stuff. My worries are on a larger level, but they also causes me more anxiety about things that I absolutely cannot control.

Changes in lifestyle are the way I try and 'control' my anxiety and worry. As many of you know, I've tried to cut red meat out of my diet. I've been rather successful (although, while on our beach vacation, I indulged quite a bit in meat. I couldn't help it). I've also tried to eat more organic fruits and veggies and whole grains. If I could, I would exercise more. But for right now, a two mile walk every other day is about all I can do (and on treatment weeks, I can't even do that).

Anyway, as I try to control anything that could "give me cancer again", here is a list of my most recent worries. You will see why I often have insomnia.

1. The pain in my back I've had for the last month...has the breast cancer started growing in my bones? Am I actually Stage IV?

2. Will the cancer metastisize in another organ and kill me before I'm 40?

3. Is the Adriamycin damaging my heart muscle? Will I be able to run again?

4. Because of #3, will I have a heart attack when I'm 45 years old?

5. Will I ever NOT feel tired? Will I ever have the endurance and stamina I had six months ago?

6. Will I be able to have more children?

7. Will I need to have my ovaries removed at some point?

Yup, this is what I worry about. When stuff happens at work, while I used to stress out and get all bent out of shape about it, I just kind shrug my shoulders now and think "whatever". I know that's a crappy attitude to have, but you know what...when someone tells you "you have cancer", its a game changer. Things that used to send my blood pressure skyrocketing (and those of you reading this know who and what they are)...it just doesn't matter. Don't get me wrong, I still get annoyed and pissed off about things at work or things in my personal life. I'm human. But they don't get me like they used to and I don't obsess about them. When one of your main worries is if you'll need an oopherectomy (getting your ovaries removed) to stop from producing estrogen (and feeding cancer cells), 'small' stuff takes a backseat.

So anyway, as I start my week with my fourth treatment looming in the not so distant future (Friday), I realize that I still do worry...a lot. But my worries have completely changed and many of those worries are things I cannot control. I like to think that I didn't give myself cancer (and that it was some mutant cell who's DNA morphed five years ago). But if my behavior did give me cancer, maybe I can control it through lifestyle changes. And maybe those small changes will diminish my worries.

Catching Up

Its been almost two weeks since I updated my blog. Sorry I have not been better with the updates, but I can barely keep up with my everyday life. I'm at the half way point with chemo and could not be happier. I am literally counting the days until I am done.

This round was different than the first two. I think the difference had to do with my state of mind....a beach state of mind. We left for Duck, North Carolina on Sunday, the 1st (two days after my third round of chemo). I had a good ride down there because we broke up the trip by stopping at Chris and Penny's house in Norfolk. No nausea, just fatigue on the way down. The first two days of vacation I just sat around the house, went in the pool for a bit and slept. But I didn't have the depression or the utter fatigue of the first two rounds. I think its because I willed myself to be well. I was on vacation and I didn't want to miss anything because I was laying in bed, being sick. Now, if I could just find a way to be at the beach after the next three chemo sessions....

My new side effect from the third round of chemo are hot flashes. Yup, I've entered "chemopause"...chemotherapy induced menopause. No periods (yay!), but awful hotness all the time (boo!). My hot flashes are pretty standard. One part of my body gets really hot every once and a while. For me, its my head and neck. I feel like I am burning up with a fever and my head gets all hot and sweaty for about a minute. I think its only magnified because I wear a hat. And did you know that the human head sweats a lot? Regardless of hot flashes, our heads produce a heck of a hot of heat. Hence why our moms always used to tell us as kids "Wear a hat when you go out in the snow, you lose all your heat through your head". Well, its true. My head is in a perpetual state of hotness. And in the middle of 100 degree heat in August, its not pretty.

Because of these new lovely hot flashes, I've strongly considered ditching the hat and going 'au natural'. But I think that would really freak people out. I mean, how often do you see a bald chick in the grocery store? Or walking down the hallway at work? Its bizarre and people will undoubtedly stare. And I'm just not ready for that kind of attention. I have enough trouble going 'au natural' at home. So I'll keep the hat on for now...I pray it only gets cooler as fall arrives. I anticipate I will be sporting the hat/scarf look until at least late Spring 2011. All the blogs and websites about breast cancer say it takes about 4 - 6 months for the hair to grow back enough to actually style it. Oh well. I guess the hot headedness will continue for at least another six months.

On a somewhat related note, I saw my girlie doctor today to discuss an IUD. I need to be on some kind of birth control. Because the cancer I have is super estrogen receptive, all forms of hormonal birth control are out of the question for the rest of my life. Nice, huh? Could this disease do ANYTHING ELSE to screw up the normalcy of my life?! Anyway, the more I see doctors for other medical reasons that are not cancer-related, the more I realize that for the rest of my life, I will have the Scarlett letters across my file that say "CANCER. SHE'S DIFFERENT." I hate that.

Before I saw the girlie doctor, the nurse came in to discuss the process of getting an IUD. She explained to me that I need preauthorization from my insurance before they will order the device. She also explained that I need to have clean STD tests and not be pregnant. No problem! Then the conversation went south. She told me that after all that is done, I need to come back when aunt flow is in town. It was like a car coming to a screeching halt. I explained that I was undergoing chemotherapy and that just wasn't happening right now....all the parts are NOT in proper working order. "Oh, that could be a problem" she told me. Problem? Really? My oncologist told me to get one of these so I don't get pregnant while undergoing chemotherapy and have a baby with severe birth defects. Every woman on my Young Survival Coalition chat group told me to get an IUD because they are hormone free and the safest for breast cancer survivors. How can all these women be telling me its easy to do and now this nurse is telling me "Oh, that could be a problem". So after some back and forth with her, I realized she wasn't understanding where I was coming from and didn't 'get' that CANCER PATIENTS ARE DIFFERENT!! So I stopped the conversation and asked to see the doctor.

My girlie doctor immediately understood what chemopause was and said that we could easily work around this issue. Since this was a consultation, she gave me three options on IUDs. Of course, two of the products she gave me information on release hormones into the body so those were immediately nixed. As soon as I saw the word "HORMONE" on the pamphlet covers of those two IUD brochures, it freaked me out. I know my body is constantly making hormones - that's what makes me female! But the thought of putting more hormones into my body scared me. The research is still out on if birth control has an impact on causing cancer cells to grow because of the synthetic hormone. Because of this, I am not taking my chances ever again. I am sure the 15 years I was on birth control didn't help my cause, but I also can't wrap my head around the notion that it gave me cancer either.

So after some back and forth with the girlie doctor, we decided on one that is hormone free and works for up to 10 years. And I can take it out when I'm ready to implant Frozen Babycicle Craige in two years. So I'm feeling good about my decision and I'm glad the hormone-free option was there for me.

Half Way Point

As of yesterday, I am half way done with chemotherapy. YES! The infusion itself was pretty uneventful. We were out of there in record time (4.5 hours) with no major side effects. The worst I felt was after the Taxotere - I ended up with a sinus headache, which is normal. Jim and I went to IHOP before chemo so that I had some carbs in my system because I never get hungry during treatment. I think the smell of the infusion center (you know, that alcohol-mediciny smell of a hospital) just turns my stomach. We were home by 2:30 and I was feeling good. I had wonton soup for dinner and then crashed out around 7:00. I slept 12 hours and am feeling relatively normal (for having just had chemo!). Ginger chews and carbs are my best friends today - ginger chews are so much better than Ginger Ale and carbs seem to keep all those nasty stomach acids in check.

This whole situation often leads me to reflect on how much my life has changed in a year. Wednesday evening, I sat down to plan out Liam's first birthday party. I did some food planning and a gift list for my little man. It made me reflect on what I was doing a year ago. I was so excited to give birth, in less than three weeks, to a beautiful boy and I could not wait to see his face for the first time. Who would he look like and how big would he be? I was anxious about the delivery and wondering when exactly he would be born. We were just finishing up his room - painting, putting the crib together, washing clothes, buying diapers and decorating. We were so excited to welcome our first son into this world.

I think about how much my life has changed in the last year. Liam's first six months of life were amazing - watching him grow and change, experiencing love like I never had before and becoming a mother. Now, unfortunately, my focus is diverted away from all of those exciting things. While I truly appreciate every minute I have with him and love to see all of his firsts, I often find myself weepy, tired and focused on my next infusion, doctor's appointment or on my side effects. This makes me really angry. My focus should be on Liam and Jim and often times, its not. And its not purposeful, its just what cancer does to you. It makes you worry about every little ache and pain... has it gone to my bones? Is my heart being damaged from the Adriamycin? Why am I so tired all the time? When will this all STOP? Will I ever be myself again? It stinks, and it stinks especially now.

When the doctor gave me my August infusion calendar yesterday, I was sadly reminded that my fourth round is scheduled for August 20th, the day before Liam's first birthday. What a sad way to spend my baby's first birthday. But as I try to stay positive, I realize that its all for the best. I need to get better for him and whether the infusion happens on the August 20th or the 30th, its going to happen. I can't put it off. Because if I were to do that, it would be selfish by putting myself at risk for hibernating cancer cells to start growing again. My little boy may need me now, but he'll really need me in 5, 10, 20 years and I have to be here for him and Jim (and hopefully more future baby Craiges).

So as my body slowly weakens from yesterday's infusion, I am reminded that even though life has changed, it will go back to normal eventually. And I will be totally focused on Liam and Jim again. I'll be back at the gym, back to enjoying bike rides and back to having energy. It just takes time.

Getting Ready for Round 3

I feel like a boxer heading into the third round of a fight. After each infusion, I feel like I've been punched everywhere and need to lie down on the mat to surrender.

Yesterday, I saw Dr. Denduluri for a follow up visit and blood work. My white blood cell count is good so my infusion scheduled for tomorrow will happen (yay!). As usual, we discussed side effects from my last infusion. Again, we talked at length about my nausea and how dibilitating it is for me the first four days after treatment. This time she recommended something called Marinol (google it if interested). Its a legal prescription drug made up of synthetic THC (which has been found to relieve the nausea and vomiting associated with chemotherapy). Its delivered in a pill form so no nasty smoking required. She told me to think about it and get back to her next Monday or Tuesday if my nausea is still unbareable.

So the ethical dilemma ensues....do I tell her to write me a prescription for this drug, knowing that this is a form of THC? My feeling is if its going to help me get over the chemo hump faster, I want to try it. But I also worry about what impact it will have on me professionally. Do I need to disclose this if I ever take any polygraph or go through another background investigation? I'm not sure. Its not like I would be smoking a joint at a party to get high. Its an FDA approved drug used to treat side effects of chemotherapy.

In addition to this recommendation, Dr. Denduluri also told me to extend my usage of the steroid I'm taking, Dexamethasone. BLAH! I hate this stupid drug. It makes me ravenously hungry, makes my cheeks, hands and feet swell and makes my heart race. I take it one day before treatment and then one day after treatment. Its also given to me in my pre-meds just before I get my chemotherapy drugs. I hate it. Its the reason I gain about 5 lbs the two days after treatment (and then I lose most of it once its out of my system). I know I shouldn't worry about my weight...but I'm a woman and that's what we're programmed to do. But Dr. Denduluri wants me to take it for three days after treatment, half doses on Sunday and Monday if I'm still getting sick to my stomach.

So we'll see how tomorrow goes and how I'm feeling this weekend. Sunday we leave for a week in the Outer Banks. I'm hoping the beach perks up my spirits and leads to a quicker recovery time.

Feeling Good

This past week was one of my two 'good' weeks after treatment. I was able to eat, took a few walks and am overall feeling like myself. I am still getting tired earlier in the evening and need several naps on the weekend. But overall, I am feeling very good!

The only constant side effect I am experiencing is short term memory loss. I have issues finding words when I'm writing or talking and I often forget simple things. This was evident at the grocery store this morning. I wrote on my list "mexican night" and wrote ground turkey, cheese, salsa and sour cream under the meal. I've been doing this for years - I meal plan and shop based on the meal. Anyway, I picked up ground beef and salsa. When I saw the sour cream and cheese on the list, I could not remember why I needed those two ingredients. Its very frustrating to not remember things or to not be able to associate items with thoughts. I've never experienced this before and its depressing at times.

There is research out there showing that people who undergo certain chemotherapy regimes never regain their short term memory level from pre-treatment. I certainly hope I am not one of those people. Unfortunately, Taxotere (one of the chemo drugs I am taking) is known to effect the grey matter of the brain and impact short term memory. Again, this doesn't happen to everyone and I am hoping I am not one of those people! So I'll just continue to read and try and keep my mind active to counteract any damage being done by the drugs.

Four more days until my next treatment. My anxiety level about it is starting to increase because I know I have only four more 'good' days left until I'm down for the count again. Fortunately, I will be recovering after this next treatment in Duck, NC. So I am hoping the ocean air and vacation mindset help me get over the chemo hump more quickly than the last two treaments.

103.5

That was my temperature at 7:00 pm last night. A stomach virus hit me on Friday and by Saturday afternoon, I was very ill and getting worse. Jim and I tried to go to the movies on Saturday afternoon to see Eclipse. When we left the house to drop Liam at our friend's, I knew I wasn't going to make it, but I pushed on. I wanted to get my 'normal' back and do something enjoyable instead of laying on the couch. When we pulled into the parking lot at the theater, I knew I couldn't get out of the car. I felt myself burning up and I knew I was going to get sick. Jim turned the car around and took me home. By the time I got into bed at 4:00 pm, my temperature was 102.4 with chills, sweats and body aches.

Getting sick while you are having chemo is a very serious thing. Your white blood cell count is at its lowest on days 7 -14 after a chemotherapy session. This means that your body has difficulty fighting infections. A cold or a virus that your body can normally fight wreaks havoc when your immune system is depressed. Although I get a shot of Nuelasta the day after chemo, the white blood cells are still lower than normal. This is why chemotherapy patients need to avoid anyone with colds or viruses. I was on day 9 yesterday and knew I was probably at my lowest point and needed to be careful. Unfortunately, I was around my mom and dad last week who both had a virus while they were here. So I learned my lesson the hard way and now know that anyone who is sick cannot be around me.

At 5:00 last night, Jim called the on-call oncologist since we were directed to call any time my fever went over 100.5. I really wanted to go to the ER, mainly because I was so dehydrated and could not stop shaking. It was really scary! The doctor on-call told us to go to the ER if my temperature reached 104. Luckily, that never happened. The highest it got was 103.5 - then it broke with the help of Tylenol and cold wash clothes.

By 8:00 am Sunday morning, my temperature was 99.9 and dropping. Right now, I am feeling 100% better than yesterday, just tired and a little weak. Now I'm ready to get my 'good' weeks started before my next infusion on the 30th.

Down for the Count

This second round of chemo has hit me differently than the first one. I can't explain it, but I feel more run down and unable to mentally process a lot. Coherent thoughts are difficult (so if you're reading this and it makes no sense, I apologize!). And my stomach is out of control - one second I'm sick, next I'm starving. And the head pounding....OH THE HEAD POUNDING HEADACHE!!!! Its unbelieveably painful and Tylenol doesn't touch it.

I keep saying "oh I should go for a walk up the block, the fresh air will do me good". Who am I kidding? I can barely get up to go to the bathroom, let alone walk down the block. My oncologist told me twice to walk for 30 minutes every day. My oncologist has obviously never been through chemotherapy! There is no way in hell I can walk for 30 minutes feeling like this!

Anyway, that's it for now...I don't have energy to write much more.

Chemo Round #2

Sorry I haven't updated in a week....I spent the last few days getting ready to be "down for the count". That meant cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping...all the things I know I can't do after chemo.

Update on my week: My friend and hair stylist, Nina, came over Tuesday night and cut my hair very short - like a pixie cut. It was really cute and I loved the look. But I had bald patches in the front so I was very self concious about going outside without a hat. The short hair, combined with a hat, made my head uber itchy. I couldn't handle it. On top of that, my hair was falling out en masse, leaving a trail everywhere I went. I sat in a meeting Wednesday, and the table in front of me, and my chair, were covered in my hair after an hour. It was gross. At that point, I'd had enough and was on a mission to get rid of it all with a pair of high powered clippers!

So, to remedy the hair situation, Jim shaved my head. And he shaved his head too. Having my head shaved was exhilerating, liberating and just made me feel so much more comfortable. I can honestly say that I didn't feel depressed looking in the mirror afterwards. I felt like "well, just one step closer to being done with all this". But...the one thing I hate about having my head shaved...I can see how much grey hair I actually have! Thank God for hair dye!

The other thing I hate are the 'pity' looks I get from strangers. Now that my head is shaved, even with a hat, you can tell I have no hair. I get three kinds of stares: First is the 'oh you poor thing, you have cancer'. To those people, I just smile back and wink, kinda like 'I'm all good, no need to worry about me!'. The second kind of stare is from the people who look at me like you would look at a car accident...they don't want to look but they feel compelled to, which then often turns in to a long stare. To those people, I just glare back at them, like 'whatcha lookin' at?!' Then there are those people who look away quickly because they don't want to stare at all. I think I would fall into that category...you don't want to make a big deal about it, or be caught staring at someone. So you just smile briefly and look away.

Anyway, moving along...

Friday, I had my second round of chemotherapy. This time it didn't take as long, only about four hours. They changed up my pre-meds and gave me Zofran for the nausea. No issues with my heart racing or a headache like the first time around. But the fatigue and nausea did hit me when I got home. I ate some lasagna my mom made and it was a little too much for my stomach to handle. And I slept about 12 hours last night. All and all, I feel slightly better than I did after the first round. I hope my body is acclimating to the drugs and I can get over the chemo hump more quickly than the first time around. We'll see how the next few days go. I'm hopeful its just my body getting adjusted and that I will rebound a few days sooner than the first round.

My Lovely Locks

My hair started falling out today. Sigh.

I thought I would be ready for this and it wouldn't be a big deal. I mean, hair grows back. I've had enough bad hair cuts in my life to I know, in a few months, my hair will grow back. But its still traumatizing to see clumps of hair in your hand while you are washing your hair. I was afraid to brush it after the shower..."Maybe if I don't brush it, it won't fall out"...demented logic, but a girl can dream, right?

My bathroom and bedroom are covered in my hair. I feel like I am leaving a trail of my hair everywhere I go. Like, "Mary was here! Don't you see her hair everywhere?". Sigh again. I really do like my hair. And I like having hair. This is going to be...different.

Meds, Pot and Exercise

Yesterday, I had a follow up visit with my oncologist, Dr. Denduluri. I also met with the clinical trial folks to record all my lovely side effects for posterity. I ran down my laundry list of "that hurt, this tasted weird, I felt this, etc".

The majority of our discussion focused on nausea and all the issues I had with food following my first infusion. Orginally, my doctor put me on a mix of Emend (a powerful anti-nausea medication) and Compazine (a very low dose version of the same kind of medication). The Emend did the job, the Compazine did not. In addition, I was on a moderate dosage of Dexamethazone, a steroid. I immediately puffed up on Friday, retained water and was awfully bloated. My face looked like I had gained 20 pounds overnight and I had dead man, bloated hands. So think about not being able to eat, but looking like you had ingested 50 big macs in the span of 24 hours. YIKES! It was not pretty.

Anyway, my doctor was concerned because my digestive side effects last for so long. For the first infusion, the nausea should have been minimal and should have only lasted a day or two. My first bout with nausea lasted seven days. This is not 'normal' and it concerned her. The first thing she did was take me off Compazine and prescribed Zofran, another anti-nausea medication that is on the same level as Emend. The second thing she did was prescribed something called "Magic Mouthwash", a medication that would help with the awful copper penny taste in my mouth. She said that may alleviate some of the nausea.

After handing me these two new prescriptions, Dr. Denduluri said to me, "Well, if you are still having more than 3 - 4 days of nausea after your next infusion, we may need to discuss medicinal marijuana to help bring your appetite back". Um, what? Marijuana? I work for the 5-0, the po-po, the fuzz. I can't be smoking pot!

In all seriousness, I've thought about it. I'm not a big fan of smoking and those pot brownies can really put you over the edge. But, the nausea was unbareable. I couldn't even look at food in the refrigerator. And after I ate, I felt like I was going to be sick. So keep your fingers crossed that the Zofran does its job and I am eating all sorts of good stuff by the Monday following my next treatment. Or I may be making lots of visit to drug stores in Washington, DC....

We also discussed exercise, or my lack thereof. She told me to talk for 30 minutes every day, regardless of when I had treatment. So yesterday and today, I did cardio - yesterday I went to the gym, and today I went for a long walk with Liam. I will continue to do this until I am down for the count again with my next treatment. I did feel great after exercising and I wonder if may be the mental boost I need during those dark times. Either way, I will continue to stay active and eating well.

Seven more days until my next infusion. Already, I'm experiencing anxiety over it and am worried about what side effects I will experience again. And I'm worried about when my hair will fall out and what my reaction will be to it. I don't love my hair, but I can't imagine myself without it. Its one of the many things that make me feminine and I'm not sure how i will handle losing it. Luckily, my friends Dianne and Suzanne bought me a ton of awesome hats to cover up my bald head. They are cute and super stylish...and they make me smile when I look at them in my closet. If I have to go without hair, at least I've got some rockin' hats to cover up the void on the top of my head.

Day 7 Update

Today marks one week since my first infusion. What an awfully uneventful week. Here's a recap of last week:

I slept...a lot. I felt sick to my stomach. My bones hurt. I had tingling in my hands and feet. It felt like I was sucking on a copper penny. My throat hurt. My mouth felt dry constantly. I drank a lot of fluids and still felt dehydrated. The lymph nodes in my neck swelled. I ran a low grade fever. I had a constant headache. I was depressed.

So that's my first week in a nutshell. Stupidly, I went to work on Monday and Tuesday and struggled through it. On Wednesday, a survivor friend of mine gave me some very good advice. She told me, "Go home. This is the only time in your life that its all about you and you need to get well". So I did. I went home Tuesday and didn't go back to work the rest of the week. It was the best thing I could have done because I wasn't sleeping and felt constantly weepy and weak. I've never been one to really take care of myself when I'm sick. I'm the idiot who goes into work when I'm sick and I power through it on coffee and adrenalyn.

But I realized on Tuesday, as I was sitting at my desk shaking from all the drugs in my system and crying from sheer exhaustion, that it is all about my health. I can't get better if I don't let myself get better. And no one is going to say "Gee Mary, I can't believe you took off from work because you have a cold", because its not a cold. Its damn cancer and its freakin' chemotherapy. They are taking me to hell and back to make me better. And I just need to be good to my body until the taking me to hell part is overwith.

So my new mantra is "its all about my well being". When I'm tired, I'll rest, when I am hungry, I'll eat. And when I need to veg out in front of the TV because my hands and bones hurt, well, I'm going to do it. And I'm not going to worry about what's not getting done in the office.

Chemo Session #1 Update

Its day #3 since my first chemo session. I've been uber productive! I've slept, slept, slept and slept some more. I didn't go grocery shopping, clean, do laundry or vacuum. My days consisted of getting up, taking medication, eating something light and then laying back down again. Yesterday was a whopper - I think I slept 14 hours in a row.

The shot of Nuelasta I received Saturday is starting to kick in too. Bone pain....ahhh, bone pain. Pain I've never really felt before since I've never broken a bone or had any bone issues. Its in my back, pelvis and head...all the great places where pain really throws you for a loop.

And I've got the typical nausea and queezy feelings as well. If you've never had chemo (and I pray for anyone reading this, you never experience it), its like having the worst cruise ship norovirus ever plus having the worst morning sickness and weakness during your first trimester of pregnancy ever.

Well, let's see if I can muster the strength for a shower and a few hours at work today. I have a feeling I may last until 10:00 am and then need a nap.

Session #1

June 18, 2010 is a date that will live in infamy. Well, not really. Maybe just for me. I had my first session of chemotherapy yesterday. There may be a lot of typos and I may not sound like myself right now and that's because I'm super hyped up on drugs. So I apoligize. I will probably need to edit this entry at some point.

I really can't even explain how I feel right now, mentally and physically. But I will try. My body feels like I have the worst flu ever. Body aches, exhaustion, sever nausea, headache, fuzzy thoughts, incoherence in some thoughts. My mind feels depressed because its Saturday and I have to do laundry, clean the house, play with Liam, and I can't. I don't have the energy to anything. So its like the worst flu, worst morning sickness, worst drugged out feeling ever. And I don't know when it will end.

The infusion session itself went great, better than expected. My nurse, Gail, was lovely and had a lot of great advice for me on things like avoiding mouth sores, calming my stomach and hair loss. Accessing the port was a snap and felt like the ear piecing gun at the mall (except in the ol' chest). I only had two very small side effects. I ended up with a headache from Adriamicyn and chest pain from the Cytoxen. The Taxotere, the drug everyone fears, gave me no strange site effects. And the Adriamicyn made me pee red too. Weird. We watched World Cup Soccer, three episodes of the first season of 24 and I made some jewlery. Then all of a sudden it was 4:00, we'd been there six and a half hours and it was time to pick up Liam!

There were a few chemo patients my age there as well: two women in their 30's and a man in his 30's as well. All were friendly, but we didn't really talk. That was fine with me, I was a little too nervous to be cheery and talkative. A lot of people slept through their infusions too.

Sorry for the short post, but I have to go back to the doctor's office for my Nuelasta shot. I'll keep you all updated on my progress.

With the flip of a three headed coin...

I usually don't write two posts in one day, but its been a whirlwind 24 hours. Get a drink and sit back, this is going to be a long update.

Today, I went to chemo orientation. It was two hours of chemo drug side effects, managing depression, exercising, eating healthy, blah blah blah. Pretty much everything that you can get from cancer.org or komen.org. I did get a few nuggets of information (like, when Liam gets his 12 month shots, I can be suspectible to getting whatever live bacteria are in the vaccine and that a fever over 100.5 is SERIOUS for chemotherapy patients). All and all, the information was helpful and I was able to get a few more website that I can troll late at night when I'm looking for support or insight.

Chemo orientation had 10 other 'students' in it. These 'students' were of varying ages, races and were both men and women. There were no ice breakers, no conversation, just straight to business. The nurse handed out a packet of information with every contact number, drug name and coping mechanism known to man. No one talked, everyone just read the information provided. I did notice a woman who was about 3 - 5 years older than I am, wearing a bright pink shirt (like the kind of pink they use for the Susan G. Komen race shirts). My first thought was "Oh, one of my kind! Another young breast cancer patient!". I ran through a five second scenario of us having treatments on the same day at the infusion center and becoming great friends because this awful diagnosis. I was quickly brought back to reality - she was there with her mother, who was going through some form of cancer. Oh well.

So I was the youngest person there, by about 20 years. Figures.

We were also given a tour of the infusion suite. The room was packed with chemo patients, hooked up to IV drips. The youngest person in there was a 40-something year old woman and the average age was probably about 65 years old. What struck me about the room was it was loud. Everyone was talking and the TV was on! It was like a freakin' party! I mean, people weren't smiling or anything like that, but it was loud like a party. There were some people reading and watching DVDs on their laptops and others who kept to themselves. But for the most part, people were talking to each other. And almost everyone there had someone with them - a spouse, partner or friend. The atmosphere was definitely not what I invisioned...it wasn't depressing, but it wasn't happy. It was just different.

When the orientation was over, I met with the clinical trial coordinator for the practice. As you have probably read in previous posts, I am trying to get into a clinical trial for my chemotherapy treatments. Before they could randomize me for the study, I had to pass a series of tests (chest x-ray, MUGA, blood work etc). The coordinator pulled me aside to tell me that there was an issue with my pregnancy test and asked if I could be pregnant.

WHAT?! You've got to be kidding!!

I assured him I was not pregnant and that the faulty result was probably due to the fertility drugs I pumped myself full of the previous two weeks. I also explained that I was given a pregnancy test yesterday for my mediport surgery and that came back negative. But of all things for me to fail....

So after he verified my negative pregnancy test yesterday at the hospital, he was able to randomize me in the computer and I was given my chemo therapy protocol. I had a 1 in 3 chance of getting the regiment I wanted. Unfortunately, the flip of the coin was not in my favor. The regiment I was assigned is a pretty typical one that many women with breast cancer are given. In the chemo 'world' it is called TAC. It stands for the three drugs they will be using: Taxotere, Adriamycin and Cytoxan. A and C are given together as a cocktail (dose dense), T is given immediately following, in a slow drip form b/c of side effects. If you are interested in reading about it, go to this website:

http://www.healthcentral.com/breast-cancer/c/78/10887/ac-act-tac/

The day after each chemo infusion, I get a shot of Neulasta:

http://www.drugs.com/neulasta.html

Neulasta is used to stimulate bone marrow and mitigate the drop in white blood cell counts. Before each chemo treatment, I will also be given EMLA to numb the port site and benedryl for any allergic reactions I may have to the chemo drugs.

I will have an infusion of TAC every 3 weeks, for a total of 6 treatments. Each treatment takes 4 - 5 hours. My first treatment will take place Friday, June 8th. My last treatment will take place on October 1st.

So the big "C" day is Friday. Can't say I'm looking forward to it, but I am looking forward to getting this overwith and this cancer journey behind me!

Strange plastic thing sticking out of my body?!

Yup, its a mediport.

Yesterday, I went in for routine surgery to have a mediport placed near my collar bone. It was relatively easy and I didn't have the awful reaction to the anesthea I had with the lumpectomy. The worst part of the entire day was not being able to eat. The best part of the entire day was going to McDonald's drive through on the way home.

The reason for getting a mediport is simple. Chemotherapy drugs are poison and can wreak havoc on your veins. Many cancer survivors have rubbery veins in the arm for the rest of their lives. Some struggle with IVs and blood draws during and after treatment. Some even have collapsed veins. I think cancer is bad enough. I don't want the drugs (that are going to give me another 50 years on this earth) to mess up anything else in body. They are already going to possibly destroy my ovaries, give me mouth sores, cause neuropathy and damage my heart muscle. I think that's enough damage for one body.

So I have a funny little bump sticking out of my chest. Could I have anymore strange things going on near my boobs? Seriously. The left one is 'sick' and the now the right one has a bump above it. The good news is that when its all over, this little extra appendage comes out. Thank goodness!

Recovery hurts. It feels like someone cracked my collar bone in half. It hurts to raise my arm and I can't pick up or hold Liam on that side for a few days. I need to make sure Liam doesn't grab or hit me there either. Sao that will be tough. You can't really tell a 9 month old "don't do that".

Next up is chemo orientation today. Oh joy!

Clinical Trial

We met with my oncologist, Dr. Denduluri, today regarding the clinical trial. The reader's digest version is that the clinical trial is not set up the way that it was presented to us. We aren't sure what 'arm' of the trial I will fall into. Its not guaranteed that I would be selected for the arm that takes the "A" drug out of the mix (Adriamycin - the one that damages the heart). Needless to say, I was disappointed and confused by this.

After talking to the clinical trial director and my oncologist, we decided to move forward with attempting to get into the arm that is TC+Avastin (Taxotere + Cytoxan + Avastin). If I do not get into this arm of the study, I will either be given TAC (Taxotere + Cytoxan + Adriamycin...the nasty heart damaging drug) or TC (Taxotere + Cytoxan). Both TAC and TC have been used for a long time to treat breast cancer, but both are known to potentially cause damage to the heart. The beauty of TC+Avastin is that Avastin attacks the blood vessels that cause tumors to grow and thrive in the body. Since my cancer was fast growing, wouldn't it be nice to halt the growth of vessels that feed these tumors? That was the arm I was hoping to get into. It doesn't appear that it's a given for me, so I have a 1 in 3 chance of still getting the chemo with the bad "A" attached to it. We'll see what happens.

Either way, TC, TAC or TC+Avastin is going to be hell. I'm just trying to make hell as bareable as possible, given the circumstances. My start date for chemo will either be June 23rd or June 30th.

On a lighter note, I am attending "Chemo Orientation" on Tuesday to get "edgamacated" on all the lovely poison they will be pumping into my body for 18 weeks. I am likening this "orientation" experience to college orientation. Do you remember your college orientation? I do! I showed up in July, toured the campus, did some ice breakers with future dormmates, picked out my classes for the fall semester and talked about how awesome it would be to live on my own! Sound similar to chemo orientation? Absolutely! I'll tour the infusion suite, meet some other cancer patients, share our "I was diagnosed with blah blah blah" stories, set up my infusion dates/times and talk about how awesome it will be when I'm a survivor. Yup, just like college orientation, but without the beer and hormones.

Blackjack

If we were playing Blackjack this morning at MGM Grand or Bellagio in Vegas, I would have been lucky. If you're not a card shark, I'll translate...the doctor was able to retrieve 21 eggs this morning. The entire procedure was easy and relatively painless.

We arrived at Shady Grove Fertility Center in Rockville, MD at 6:00 am and immediately I was placed in a room with two other women undergoing the same procedure. The anesthesiologist hooked me up to an IV (one of the less painful ones I've received lately) and were were ready to roll. They gave me medicine for nausea since I have issues with anethsethia. They walked me into the procedure room and right after I sat down on the surgical table (which looked like the ol' pelvic exam table), I started to feel high. Ahhhhhhh!!! Next thing I knew, I was waking up in a bed. I had some cramps and that was it. All done!

Jim drove me home and I slept for about four hours. I'm up and around now and feeling good. Sorry guys for the details, but it just feels like normal cramping. Nothing I can't handle!

So I've got 21 eggs on ice for future usage! See ya in about two and a half years eggies...stay frosty!!!

Trigger Day

Today started the same way as the last five days have started: a 7:00 am visit to Shady Grove Fertility Clinic for blood work and an ultrasound. Over the last three days, my estrogen levels have stayed low, which is a good thing. The drug Femara has been growing my little egglettes, while keeping my estrogen in check. For those of you who are new to my blog, I have a very estrogen receptive cancer. So my ovaries, and the estrogen they produce, are trying to kill me. Femara keeps estrogen in my body in check while growing lots of little egglettes. Toward the end of the IVF cycle, doctors want to see your estrogen level rise to signal the time for the "trigger shot" and eventual harvest. Over the last three days, everything has been increasing, except for my estrogen. Instead of taking Femara out of the protocol, we were on a 'watch and see' timeline. Today we finally got the go ahead for the 'trigger shot'.

All of the breast cancer blogs and fertility preservation websites make a big deal about the trigger shot. It hurts, its intermuscular, it causes you to bleed...blah blah blah. Honestly, it wasn't that bad. I would liken it to a flu shot, except this shot was in the ol' butt. I iced the area for about 15 minutes and by the time it came for the shot, I didn't feel a thing!

And I have to add that the entire fertility preservation process was not that bad. Yes, the shots hurt. Yes, the daily doctors appointments, daily blood draws and sonograms were an inconvenience. But I didn't experience the God awful bloating, 10 pounds of water weight gain and uncontrollable bitchiness. All I experienced was injection site pain, cramps and slight bloating. All and all, it really wasn't that bad.

So the egglettes will be harvested at 7:00 am on Tuesday, June 8th. I won't go into the details of the harvesting process so use your imagination. I'll be put to sleep and I'll wake up with someone telling me, "Congratulations, you're the happy owner of X number of eggs on ice!". I'll be out of commission for a day and probably back to work on Wednesday. Then its bye bye Shady Grove, hello Infusion Center at NOVA Oncology and Hematology Center.

Race for the Cure

Today I walked in the Race for the Cure in Washington, DC. My friends Carolyn and Lisa were kind enough to join me for the event. As you can see from the pictures above, it was a beautiful day (and a bit humid!) Although I have been a part of the race in the past, this year felt like an out of body experience. Mainly because I was one of the participants wearing the pink survivor shirt. I felt like I was lying in a way. I'm not a survivor...yet. I haven't even started the worst of the worst...yet. I haven't experienced a quarter of what those other women have experienced...yet. My journey to survival has just begun. I've had two surgeries, countless needle pricks, IVs, scans and other uncomfortable tests. But I haven't fought the fight yet. My fight is just beginning.

Women around me had signs honoring loved ones who lost their battle. Others wore team shirts to support a friend or loved one battling the disease. What struck me about today's race was the lack of young women wearing pink survivor shirts. I felt like every woman wearing a shirt was old enough to be my mother. Or she had a daughter with her who was a teen or twenty-something. Where are all my girls - the ones who I see on the Young Survival Site, or on the blogs talking about managing chemo and a toddler? I felt lost out there - like there weren't 'my kind' in the race.

Its because women like me aren't supposed to get breast cancer. Women who are 60 have a 1 in 28 chance of getting breast cancer. Women who are 40 have a 1 in 100 chance of getting breast cancer. Women in their 30's? Well, you do the math.

Anyway, it was a sobering experience. I wasn't feeling much like going into the survivors tent or like getting anymore literature on breast cancer after the race. I know plenty about it, thank you very much! I'm living it everyday. I read about it every night when I log onto the Young Survivors Coalition to chat with 'my kind'.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is that maybe this year's Race for the Cure had some bad timing for me. Maybe I should have waited until I am a true 'survivor'? I'm not sure. Maybe I will still feel this way next year? Only time will tell. Maybe I'm in the grief and anger phase and I didn't even know it? Quite possibly.

I think being around all those women in pink made me realize that this is real. Heart damage, loss of hair, burning skin, the constant fear of metastisizing, early menopause - its all going to happen. And its happening...to me. Not to the 'pink warriors' in the TV commercials. I think today is the first day that I realized that I have a deadly disease that kills thousands of women every year. And that is a very scary and awful thing to have to process and come to terms with.

On a lighter note...Tuesday will be egg harvest day! I am still doing two shots at night and they hurt! And Monday, the 14th, my surgeon will put in the mediport for chemotherapy. I am hoping to have my first round of chemotherapy at the end of that week or the following week.

Harvest Update

So things are progressing very nicely. I saw the doctor again today and it appears that my body is responding very well to the fertility shots. I have 10 high quality egglettes ready to pop. My body is responding so well that they are bumping up the harvest date to Tuesday or Wednesday of next week. Then I will have a mediport surgically placed a few days later.

Tonight I increased the amount of Gonal-f I am injecting and added a third drug into the mix. I am now injecting a shot of Ganirelix each night. This drug keeps the egglettes from being released prematurely so that they can go in and harvest them once they are fully developed. This shot hurt like hell! The gage of the needle must be bigger because it felt like a burning poker going into my stomach! Afterwards I felt like I in labor for about 20 minutes - I am not kidding. It was like my 40th week all over again (minus the big belly). I see the doctor again tomorrow to make sure that they aren't popping off yet and that the Ganirelix is doing what its supposed to do.

I can't wait to get the proverbial "show on the road"...the sooner we start, the sooner is cancer journey is over.

Egglettes

A 7:00 am doctor's appt following a holiday weekend is always rough! Fortunately, I was in and out of the office in under 10 minutes! The good news is that I have about 17 little "egglettes" cooking up rather nicely. The nurse said everything is going as planned and we should get plenty of eggs next week during the "harvest". Everything is tracking on schedule and growing at the right pace.

Next up after the "harvest": port placement surgery. Stay tuned.

Bloodwork, ultrasounds and needles

Today, we began the adventure of fertility preservation!

It started with a 9:00 am appointment for blood work and an ultrasound. When I got to the doctor's office, I was one of 20 other women who were there for the same thing. I felt bad because all I could think was, "all of these women are dying to have ONE baby and I'm here to make sure I can have MORE babies". I felt selfish and guilty being there, but then I thought to myself, "I am sure none of these women would ever want to trade places with me".

I also felt the need to tell everyone I talked to why I was there. I have no idea why but I dropped the C word about four times....to the lady who took my blood, to the nurse who did the ultrasound, to the nurse who gave me my medication calendar and to a woman sitting next to me in the waiting room who was making small talk with me. Her comment was "doing this on a Saturday is the worst", and my response was "well, I've got one shot to get it done since I start chemo in three weeks!". EEK! It was like the record screeching to a halt. Sorry lady, but I could care less what day I do this! Being here at all stinks and I'd rather be at home playing with my son instead of dealing with this cancer crap!

The doctor's office called me around 3:30 to tell me that all my test results came back normal and I could start the hormone shots and pills. I am taking a drug called Femara (ironically, its also used to treat breast cancer patients). Its a pill I have to take every night for three days. Femara stimulates the ovaries, but will not create a surge of estrogen in my body. Since my cancer is very estrogen receptive, Femara is being used to ensure that during this process, my estrogen levels don't go crazy and provoke more cancer cells to grow. In addition to Femara, I am also giving myself shots of Gonal-f which stimulates the ovaries to grow (and eventually) release lots of little eggs. These two drugs combined are very safe for me and will hopefully produce the desired effect without waking any sleeping cancer cells in my body.

So being the baby that I am, I could not give myself the shot. I made Jim do it. Sorry everyone, but as tough as I am, I hate needles. I mixed up the Gonal-f dosage, filled the syringe, gave it to Jim and said "Stick it to me!!" Well, not really...I said "Hurry up, its gonna hurt!!". And he did, and it did! Ouch!

The Gonal-f shots will continue for the rest of the cycle until I am told that enough eggs have been stimulated. Once that happens, its time for something called a "Trigger Shot". I am dreading this. Its the shot that goes into the muscle and hurts like hell. That shot tells the little eggs to release and within 24 hours, I will have them harvested.

What are the side effects of all of this? Mood swings, bloating, water retention, weight gain (up to 10 lbs). So basically, its like having the worst PMS of your life. There are also some risks too, but being a healthy woman (aside from the little cancer thing), I should be OK. I've read that some women look like they are 4 - 5 months pregnant by "Trigger Shot" day - I can't imagine that and I hope it doesn't happen to me. Fingers crossed, I just get super moody and that will be the worst of it.

On Tuesday, I will go back to see the doctor. I'll have another series of blood work and another ultrasound. They will reassess the shots and determine if the dosage is correct.

Some Cancer Humor

I found this on another young breast cancer survivor's website. I had to repost because it made me laugh. Some of these are so true....

"Cancer is Like a Wedding"

"Huh?" You ask..."One of the worst things to happen to you is like one of the best?" Why yes, yes it is my friend....and I'll tell you why...

1. They are both expensive.
2. You get presents.
3. You get behind in thank you notes.
4. You obsess over every detail.
5. Sometimes you wish you could just hop a plane to Vegas.
6. You have a binder detailing every expense.
7. You have the obligatory nervous breakdown.
8. Your mom thinks she knows what you want.
9. You find the most amazing things to buy on the internet.
10. You talk to relatives you haven't seen in years.
11. You haven't worried about your hair this much since prom.
12. You wear gowns. Sure, one "opens to the front", but who cares?
13. You look at your husband and tell yourself how lucky you are.
14. It's all about you.
15. When it's all over, you think to yourself, "How will I fill the time?"

Angel Looking Out for Me!

I am convinced there is someone looking out for me up there....

Just when I thought things couldn't get worse with Shady Grove Fertility, they gave me a very pleasant surprise and shocked me completely. Yesterday, my nurse called to tell me that my medications were being 'comped' by their in-house pharmacy. It turns out that many patients who don't use all their medication will 'donate' their meds back to the pharmacy for cancer patients. All the meds that I needed had been donated and they had plenty in stock. So instead of paying $1,650 for medication, I paid $35. Amazing!

Anyway, this only cements my belief that I have an angel looking out for me and that God works in very powerful ways. I was never one to do self breast exams - I didn't think I needed to b/c I was too young for cancer. But on February 24th, something inside me said "take a feel of the girls just to make sure they are OK"....And I found a lump. I can't even imagine if I didn't do that self exam. My normal annual exam isn't until September...would waiting another seven months to find the lump have made a difference? I think it probably would have and I may not have the great prognosis I have now.