Chemo Day

Today was my third of eight rounds of chemo.

First came the ultrasound, to make sure the chemo is working. The ultrasound doctor that I have seen several times over the years, the one that seems to feel guilty that he didn't see this three years ago, could not stop smiling, could not stop shaking his head, could not stop trying to measure little bits of dissipating tumors. He found four or five bits, and he measured them, none of them were over a centimeter. "This is really good, this is really good." I want to hug him, he wants to hug me, but it is not the right place, as I have goop all over my breasts which are covered by little washcloths. I will make a point to find him, and hug him, and thank him for a job well done...the next time I see him with my clothes on.

Chemo was good today, I ordered up a ham and cheese sandwich and a cup of beer cheese soup, then I took a nice little nap while the drugs slipped in. I have learned to make hay while the sun shines, or rather to eat when I can. I now know that the next two days will be OK, and that the following five or six days will be rough... and that the three or four days next will feel like "finally recovering from something awful, and that the two days before my next chemo I will feel good, I will make lots of yummy food, including brownies with lots of walnuts and I will eat, and my mouth will not hurt, and my tummy will feel good, and I will sleep well.

Maybe one of the hardest things about chemo is accepting each day as it comes...and not thinking about the days to come. Be here now.

So to anyone who has gotten this far in my writings... know that I love you, and I feel your love and I KNOW that your love is more powerful that chemo or cancer. XXOO

Still Wednesday

So I feel like writing...may not happen for a few days, so here goes. This is an excerpt from my journal...written at the last full moon...

The full moon is here. There was a time when the full moon, or the new moon, flowed in me. I felt it in my cycles; I was ovulating or flowing. I was conceiving or giving birth. I was rejoicing or weeping. I was planning or fullfilling. I was wide awake or sleeping.

The full moon is here. It has been a few years since I have noticed, a while since it has inspired dancing, or tears, conception or birth...a few years since it has kept me awake.

The full moon is here, and so is the rejoicing for daughters and friends. The full moon is here, and so is the weeping and regret. The full moon is here and so is planning and letting go.

I never expected it, but cancer has lead me back into the circle of life.

Wednesday evening

Today I feel good, could be that it is a perfect day in wisconsin, Mild breezes, mild temp., and all of life seems to be taking in the glory of a reproduction season well done. It could also be that I ate Stephens great spagetti and drank wine and both my mouth and tummy are just fine.

I am trying not to dwell on the fact that my next chemo session is coming up this Friday. I will eat, drink and be merry until then.

On Friday I will have another breast ultasound before chemo. I already know what it will show, which is that the tumor has shrunk...pretty substantially. Part of me wants to say, "Cool...thanks...I think I'm done now." The same part of me that that wants to quit antibiotic as soon as they start working.

This much I know to be true, the love and prayers and best wishes of family and friends is more powerful than cancer or chemo.

Changes

I’d felt for while that my left breast was, well different. For years I have done self-breast examines and found many, many lumps. Especially when I was younger. I didn’t feel a lump, and I still don’t. My left beast has grown heavier, warmer, and a little perkier. It feels a little like very early mastitis, or like having milk in your mommy breast that the two year-old has lost interest in.

In the course of a day I had mammograms, ultra-sound and needle biopsies of the “mass” as well as a near-by lymph node. I watched the needle biopsies on the ultra-sound as the large mass had five or six hollow core needles shot through it. The doctor explained every step, showed me how he was not seeing “smooth margins” but the pathology report would take a day, “And then we will know for sure.” I watched as the very experienced and compassionate doctor knew exactly what he was seeing. I have seen this doctor several times over the years, because of the lumpy nature of my breasts, (lumps that never could be labeled as “good” or “bad” by mammogram) every few years I went straight to ultra-sound, and every few years this same doctor explained to me what he was seeing. He never suggested a biopsy. I was there when he said to his technician, “Please pull up the ultra-sounds from three years ago, I want to study them.” And then under his breath, probably only meant for his own ears, “I should have seen this.” He is making the assumption that cancer grows at a certain rate, and that a mass that is 1” by 1.5” should have been apparent three years ago. I remind him I had a full physical six months ago; including a breast exam, and my doctor had no concern. I reminded him that this breast felt no different to me until a few months ago, and that I still couldn’t feel a lump. He says, “I know, it’s really hard to feel, but I should have seen it.”

The next afternoon, the head of the breast care center (a surgeon) called me and went through the biopsy results with me. We spent 40 minutes on the phone and then made an appointment to meet the next day. I have breast cancer.

Within a week I had met with a surgeon, a chemo doctor, a radiologist and had a P.E.T. scam, as well as a breast scam. I was given tons of info, and I was told several times that my course of treatment was up to me, that one thing they know, the more involved I am in the process, the more accepting I am of MY decisions, the better the outcome.

I know the tumor is large enough to put my cancer in the Stage 2 category, and that the lymph node involvement puts it at a stage 2 +. The tumor has invaded the surrounding breast tissue but the PET scan shows it has not moved to lung or bone or anywhere else.

I know I am in for an extended time of dealing with this the best I can. This is the year I live with breast cancer.