2010
Off to Chemoland
Ouch. That hurt.
Well, 48 hours after port surgery, I’m all accessorized with nowhere to go. The port is a huge wake-up call. Nothing quite says you’ve arrived at destination sicko like a medical device surgically implanted under your skin and snaked into your jugular for the sole purpose of dumping vast quantities of toxic drugs into your bloodstream.
(Shoot, I was REALLY going to work on my sunny-side attitude for this post! sorry honey)
I guess this means I’m really going through with this crazy “chemo-thing.” I mean now that I have a cool port, I might as well use it. Shopping for Friday’s first infusion felt much like back-to-school shopping when I was a kid. I pushed the cart around Target with a mile-long list as Mary chucked things into the basket with a spare-no-expense attitude. Ginger lozenges? Check. Hand sanitizer? Check. Dry-mouth gum? Check. (Jeez, gum to ward off dry mouth. I mean, who knew? Not me if it weren’t for the lovely cancer ladies who went online and posted all of their horrible chemo side effects and fix-it tips. Thank you cancer ladies!)
So, after Mary and I spent the morning paying medical bills and the afternoon buying special lotions, eye drops, and mouth rinses, it hit me. What if cancer is all that’s keeping our economy afloat these days? Sheesh, if the 200,000 women diagnosed with breast cancer this year, plus millions of other Americans with dozens of other cancers, are out at CVS dropping cash like me and Mary. Well, hot damn—I think I found the sunny side!
God love America.
Out of Luck
This time last year I felt pretty darn lucky. I’d tiptoed through my breast cancer treatment without awakening its two snarling monsters: chemotherapy and radiation. Now I find myself facing both head on. This coming Monday I’ll have surgery to install a port. Most likely, the following week, the first of 4 rounds of chemo. The decision to move forward with chemotherapy wasn’t easy. The genetic test was decisively vague. After much deliberation, the pros seemed to outweigh the cons (barely). Then again, as my oncologist freely admits, no one knows if chemo will help or not. Basically, it’s a crapshoot. The stakes couldn’t be higher. Maybe I’ll get lucky.
The Sound of Silence
Walking a VERY fine line between denial and compartmentalization.
Hence, the blog is a little quiet.
La la la la la la la la
Hurry Up and Wait
Well, last Friday’s appointments with the surgeon and oncologist were anticlimactic (as usual). Basically, radiation and menopause-inducing hormone therapy are definitely in my near future. (Yanking out my ovaries is also an option. Yeah, thanks.) But the “other big C” (aka chemo) is still a tease. Not all breast cancers are sensitive to chemo. My oncologist says he’d be happy to send me to chemo, but it may not work. (Um…yeah, no.) The other option is to order a genetic profile of the new tumor and use that info to make a more evidence-based decision. (Hm…me thinks this sounds familiar.) My first tumor was not cut out for chemo, so we’ll see if this one’s personality is similar. And, since chemo must comes first in the breast cancer treatment buffet, all else must wait. In the meantime, I’m trying to live life as as if a giant meteor isn’t angling straight for me. Easier said than done I’m afraid.