Post Apocalyptic Update

It’s been 10 weeks since my last chemo treatment and 7 since my surgery, and I feel great! This is really nice since for some time there, I wasn’t confident that I’d ever get back to even somewhat-normal.

I still have residual chemo side effects that are noticeable to me (who knows what kind of hellish underlying and unseen side effects I have). At the top of the list—and ranked worst—eye issues. During chemo (or what my eyes would call “The drought of 2012”), my eyes were severely dry, leaving them now with some sort of residual cloudiness that often affects my vision. I’m moderately concerned about it but trying to give it some time to return to normal before taking drastic actions, like seeing another [gulp] doctor. Second on the list—the hot flashes. Sure they’re painless and rather brief, but they are completely unpredictable and super inconvenient. In the privacy of the home, they transform an ordinary TV watcher into what appears to be an insane maniac with delusions of being set on fire, stripping off layers of clothing as if in a timed contest. At work, they make concentrating during meetings difficult as upper-lip-sweat forms without notice for no obvious reason, and fantasies of nude skiing take over all thoughts. Not sure how it goes down for other women—is that about right?  

These marks on the thumb nail beds are common for chemo patients. Just the thumbs. 

It's like a secret handshake for cancer victims.  

There are a few smaller side effects left behind in the wake of the battle, but for the most part my army of cells have repaired themselves and I’m feeling quite wonderful. My spirits are up and I’ve savored some fun moments with friends and family, am getting back to my active self, and I’m even enjoying normal affairs like working (although my job is fabulous, I must say!). Surgery has left me with lingering numbness (nothing feels stranger than shaving an area with no feeling), a tiny bit of pain, and palpable scar tissue, but I have 95% of my range of motion back and am back to normal arm function. Hooray!

My hair has finally started growing in. It sure took its sweet time but now that it’s growing, I have let go of the fear that it was gone forever. I’ve only been wearing my wig for 2 months but I’m already itching to ditch it. Now that my hair is growing, it won’t be long before I go wigless (I’ve already tried a couple wig-free-in-public test runs). Oh, and it seems the chemo caused all my hair to turn gray. Yeah, it was the chemo. Damn you chemo.

Is it long and luxurious yet?

Pathology without Apology

This blog post could have gone one of two ways, and I wish I were writing now about encouraging pathology results after surgery. Instead, the reality is that the tissue removed during my surgery—although lacking the tumors—still showed live cancer cells within the breast tissue and right up to the margins. That means, you guessed it, it’s highly likely I have live cancer cells still in that breast.

So now what? After bouts of crying, swearing, and feeling sorry for myself as a defeated cancer victim—the reality hit that I need to face this and make the big decision on what to do next.  Naturally, the surgeon recommended more surgery, the radiation oncologist recommended radiation, and the traditional oncologist recommended both (in a nutshell).

Heavy, bad news like this yields lots of thinking, analyzing and even bargaining. I am not even close to knowing everything I need to, to make a decision about what to do next. For now, I am doing two things. First; taking my time in gathering data on the benefits, side effects, and harmful aspects of radiation, hormone-blocking therapy, and mastectomy surgeries (thank you to all who have offered to lend a hand with this part—it’s so vital and a huge help to me!). And second; enjoying normalcy (with a dash of denial) with some meaningful times like a visit with my brother MD and taking my husband away for 2 nights to a vegan B&B.

Now, I am keeping an open mind to what the doctors have recommended. I haven’t made any concrete decisions so far. However, I very much want to do nothing more (please don’t say I want to do ‘nothing’ because I may assault the next person who says that—we must not forget the harsh treatments I did go through or the significant surgery I did have).

This may be tough to understand, and certainly is an unpopular view, but I don’t feel that everything must be done to preserve my life. Our culture supports the idea that all human life is sacred and therefore everything that can be done to save a human, should be done (no matter the cost to animals, the environment, or –gasp–  other humans). This human-centric idea doesn’t come naturally to me, as I know we are not superior to the animals with which we share this planet. It is not all here for our taking, to keep us all alive for as long as possible. Further, I have always believed that cancer, AIDS, and other diseases of mass destruction are a natural means to control overpopulation. At the rate of our growth, and obliteration of natural lands and resources, it’s clear that our beloved Earth cannot support the blight we’ve become to her for long. My views about this haven’t changed just because I’m one of the infected. Too many babies born, too many humans kept alive by modern medicine and the mounds of resources used for those to happen, take great tolls on the Earth. Something has to give. Perhaps I am part of that something.

Whoa, it just got real deep here on this simple, pink blog. It may not be a shared view, but surely is important to think about. All the energy, plastic, animal testing, pollution, water, land damage, and whatever else it will take (and has taken) to keep me alive—just ONE human—seems absolutely ridiculous, wasteful, and unfair to me. I better be among the world’s biggest contributors if it’s all to happen just for me, right? Well, I haven’t been so if I go further with treatment, I must step it up!

On a more simple side, and as the saying goes, death is part of life. It’s true. Even if I had hoped it would come much later, it’s inevitable. We’re all going to die, and although I can’t control the damage we’ve done to the planet, the animals, and each other, I can try to control how much I impact the world.  

Man, I feel like I should put a joke here, to lighten this up some. Um….how many hippies does it take to screw in a light bulb? Answer: Hippies don’t screw in light bulbs, they screw in sleeping bags. Nailed it. 

Possibly the best piece of advice I’ve been given throughout all this is from EM (and also by Dr. God). She said that no matter what I decide, I need to be 100% comfortable with the decision. It might sound simple, but she went on to say that even if down the road I face negative outcomes as a result of my decision, I must be as comfortable then as I am now with the decision. So, if I decide to do nothing more and in 3 years, I’ve developed more tumors or the cancer has metastasized to my lungs, I need to still feel good about what I did. No regrets. It’s the best advice I have received.