In Which I Spoke Too Soon...

Damn it! I knew posting that Music Monday yesterday and being all excited to start radiation would come back to bite me in the ass!

Through NO fault of my own, but entirely due to many doctors not understanding what/how the others were thinking, I did not start radiation yesterday. Ugh.

Soooo complicated to explain what/where/why it went wrong, but here's a quick update with a "new" plan of action:
(1) Yesterday, doctor appointment with the surgeon to get the "okay" for radiation. Which she gave...I think the appointment lasted 6.7 seconds. And yet, I still love her.

(2) Today, doctor appointment with the chemo doc to talk about my next round of drugs from her. Nope, no more chemo, but now I am "well" enough to start Tamoxifen. This is a pill that I will have to take every day for the next five years. DON'T FORGET to take it every day, she says. Ha, ha, that's funny. Have you not read my post about how I can't even remember to take my vitamins??? (I do have awesome new daily pill dispenser, FYI! Thanks!)

(3) Tomorrow, doctor appointment with the radiation doc. (See, you people think I'm making it up when I say that I've had 9,000 doctor's appointments...I really think this might not be an exaggeration). This is what I've been calling "practice radiation." I've now been given the proper term: radiation simulation. I think this will make my parents (and some of you who have voiced concerns over the fact that they're practicing on me) feel much better about the whole situation. Simulation is where they tattoo the spots they want to radiate (yes, actual tattoos...that are permanent...lucky me! I hope that they're "X marks the spot" tattoos!). Then they feed me through a CT scan machine for the better part of TWO HOURS (WTF??? Can I read a book while this is going on? Two hours?! One friend suggested I sing, loudly and badly, the entire time unless they let me at least listen to a book). The imaging is then given to a ???? (am not clear on this part, perhaps a doctoral candidate in physics?) who determines all the angles and whatnot that I need to be given the radiation so that it will do the maximum good with the minimum damage. Remember, one of the 3 areas that they will be radiating is in line with my heart, so my choices are heart damage from radiation, or lung damage. I opted for lung. And hopefully whoever this person/computer is that calculates all the trajectories is brilliant and finds a way to avoid both.

Will let you know how it all goes. And when my start date ends up being. Rumor has it, it takes a week to make all the necessary calculations, so hopefully will start on the 25th...or 26...thinking with my luck it might be the 29th. 

Taxol Takes it's Toll

Friday was Chemo, Stage 2, Round 1. The first of my 12 weekly rounds of Taxol. This is where you will find me every Friday from now on: sitting in my chemo chair. Today was kind of nice because the sunshine was streaming in through the windows and it felt a little like spring (at least until the sun went behind the clouds).

So the first 8 weeks of chemo (A/C) were designed to kill me, and I have to admit that there were days when I thought it was going to. But I have come out the other side, and have been promised that these next 12 weeks are going to seem rather mild by comparison. FINGERS CROSSED! KNOCKING ON WOOD! Whatever needs to be done to make that come true!

Now, please don't think that Taxol is going to be a breeze. There are rumors that I might lose my finger and toe nails by the end of this process (doesn't that sound like awesome fun?!). And another fun side effect is that I will get even more tired than I already am. For example, the doctor warned that somewhere around day 3 every week I could suddenly feel a desperate need for a 3 hour nap in the middle of the day. I'll let you know!

And there is also the possibility that you could have a horrible allergic reaction to Taxol...like call the ER and shoot me with an epipen allergic reaction. Sounds great! But, I managed to make it through the dosing without that, so strong possibility that won't happen. Again, FINGERS CROSSED!

But because of this possibility of allergic reaction, I was dosed with massive quantities of Benedryl as part of my pre-meds (saline, steroids, Benedryl...and probably something else...I stop paying attention sometimes). So. Much. Benedryl. Quantities that caused me not to really remember what else happened on Friday. Keith left and came back with lunch. I ate it. I got a visit from my favorite pharmacy gal (maybe I'll just start calling her FPG). And then, I passed out. For an hour and a half until it was done and Keith came back to pick me up. Thank goodness I brought my comfy blanket.

And when I got home? I slept some more. Because I was super groggy and a little loopy. Had planned on posting this last night, but friends don't let friends post while hopped up on Benedryl.

A Schedule...Finally!

And more not good news.

Clearly not wanting to break the trend of getting bad news with every doctor's visit, we have kept our string in tact with the latest visit.

Bad news: Angry cancer has moved itself to Stage 3 now. Moving from Stage 1 to Stage 3 in less than two months...yeah me! There is some sort of internal mammary lymph node that is inflamed...enlarged...something very bad. Is it bad that I sort of tune out these doctor's visits when we get to this information? I always think that I'm going to come home and Google the words to find out more details. Problem this time is I can't find the answers that I want to know. Obviously need to start paying attention and thinking faster on my feet with these questions! I've got all these great questions now, which I'll have to save for the next appointment.

Good news: Can there really be good news? Well, I do have a treatment schedule now, so that's actually a positive for someone like me that just wants to put all the details in my iPhone calendar. Tell me when and where and I'll be there! My third, and final, surgery is this Friday. (Yippee! More rooting around with a sharp stick). The chemo port will also get placed at this time. Then some healing time. And then MORE TESTS (echocardiogram...already checked off; PET scan; CT scan. Sounds like more fun in scary tubes of death and more paperwork). And then chemo starts on the 13th. 

Bad news: Because I'm so cool, I get 20 weeks of chemo. A regimen that sounds like its designed to kill me. 8 weeks of every other week dosage, then 12 weeks of every week. Then 4 weeks of rest before radiation 5 days/week for weeks and weeks. A cursory glance at the calendar puts this treatment into SUMMER VACATION. 

Good news: Doc has designed the schedule so that I'll "feel good" for Christmas and "like crap" for New Years. Actually, I'm not sure if this is good news. Hmmmm...this might actually make me feel just good enough to be really pissed about not being in Hawaii.

And now to wait for the results of the final surgery. At some point the bad news trend has to stop, right???

Craptastic! is My New World View

Keith said it, and I am beginning to agree with him: every time we go to a doctor or get a phone call from one, the diagnosis gets worse. Craptastic!

To bring you up-to-date:
Tuesday, the surgeon called from her vacation, to tell me the official results of the surgery. (Note to self or anyone out there who might care: if your doctor calls you from her vacation, the news will NOT be good...just sayin'). The 1 lymph node with cancer is not concerning anyone, because it's "only cells." She agrees that this will not drive the treatment decision. What is concerning is the fact that during this surgery, she just pulled 2cm of cancer out of the original lumpectomy site. Add this to the 1.1cm tumor she removed 3 weeks before, and the total of 3.1cm of cancer puts this angry beast in an entirely new and exciting category. When your cancer triples in size basically overnight, you are obviously graduated up the scary patient scale to the top. She tells me I must make an appointment with the medical oncologist THIS WEEK (medical oncology = chemotherapy).

(By the way, the rest of Tuesday was spent curled up in a ball in bed with a book and the TV. It was mini meltdown day and I'll own that).

Thursday: We had an appointment with the medical oncologist (which will further be referred to in this blog as the chemo doc). First, I have to start by saying that by the time we FINALLY saw her, she redeemed the entire practice from my initial reactions. But in all honesty, when I arrived, I immediately didn't like the place, and wanted to leave. At the time, the only redeeming quality was that their paperwork was so INSANE that it will provide fodder for a future post (stay tuned!). 

The doctor was terrific, very calming and reassuring, she got my sense of humor and she explained everything so well. It's not really her fault that I didn't like what she was saying. In a nutshell, here's the scoop:
(1) Yes, there will have to be another surgery. It'll be up to me whether it's a mastectomy or not, but whatever I choose won't make a difference in the rest of treatment because my cancer is so angry.
(2) Chemotherapy, the one thing that I was hoping to avoid, is a MUST at this point, and the sooner the better. As in NOW!
(3) There are several options for chemo, but she's recommending me to participate in a clinical trial (assuming the scientists like my witty sense of humor, I guess) which will include 6 rounds of chemo. Each round is 3 weeks long. When you do that fancy math, you get 18 weeks of chemo...yippee!
(4) Absolutely no way is she letting me go to Hawaii for Christmas (which, by the way, we've already booked). In fact, if she could convince me not to go to Vegas for Thanksgiving next weekend, she'd have me starting chemo next week.

So now you see why Craptastic! is my word for the day. I did hold it together in the office and asked all the right questions (like, should I plan on working or not? Middle school students are a hot-bed of disease after all), but I did cry the whole way home. And yes, one of the other questions I did ask was could waiting a few extra weeks until after the Christmas Hawaii trip really make a difference? I mean really, how could it possibly, right?! Well, when the expert looks at you and says, "I wouldn't," you'd be stupid not to take her advice. Damn...

Thursday evening involved wallowing in self pity with House re-runs on the TV and a giant jar of Nutella by my side. It did end on a positive note, when my teenage son spent the evening watching TV with me (go Sounders!). We had a bonding experience making fun of the girl child (yeah, we're evil, but she was a little out of control before going to bed), and talking about what they were learning about in biology...CANCER! Of course they are. Maybe he can get extra credit by bringing in my pathology reports...God knows he could use it...