My Breast Cancer Journey

You (probably don’t) know what that means! Cancer-free for six years!!! And I dont have to go back for another year. Wooo hooooo!!!

The “Life Event” I cryptically posted to facebook is pictured. It comes from the lyrics of Outkast’s song True Dat.

Today, as I was laying, and crying, in debilitating pain for literally years after undergoing these “treatments”, there came an enlightenment. A zen-like understanding of who I am and where I was in the world. Of what I was doing to my body, and what I needed to do to make it stop.

Finally, I pulled the plug. I had to. I couldn’t do it any longer.

I had a tearful meeting with my family and let them know I was NOT giving up on life, but presently, I wasn’t living, either. I called my mother and my brother. We decided we’d all rather have 2-3 great years together than a lifetime of me on the couch in misery.

Throughout my journey, I’ve learned to do my research. So I continue that path. I’ll read up and find out exactly what I needed to do – to eat, drink, breathe and live – in order to beat this. I’d surround myself with friends from different backgrounds and find out what they know and how they could help. I’d research the diagnosis and the treatments, meet with doctors, and do whatever I could to beat it.

But I’d HAVE to start building myself up instead of continuing this path of breaking myself down. I HAVE to turn the tide now, while I still can. Today I start my new life.

At North Carolina Cancer Hospital in Chapel Hill. Pre-Op appointments w/ both surgeons today.

Am I lucky to have such a renowned facility available to me? Yes.

Do I wish it was not a 3-4 hour drive each way? Yes!

So very thankful my neighbors waking early to get my children on the school bus and family for being there to get them off and get them fed dinner and waiting for hugs when we got home.

Drinking some nasty concoction and then getting a CT scan. Yuk! (the PET scan showed some areas of concern around my liver. Hopefully the CT scan will clear that up. But this drink is nasty!!! — at The Outer Banks Hospital.

Adriamycin chemo IV medicine is red and scary

Today (Thursday) was chemo day. Number 6 of 8, and number 2 of 4 of the second series. The first four were Adriamycin and Cytoxan mixed (A/C), the last four are Taxol.

Session 1 was much harder on me than numbers 2-4 of the A/C. I assume because it was such a shock to my system and that 2-4 were a little easier on me because I was more used to it and had some residually in my system after the first one.

#5 (last time) was the first of the second type. It was a doozy, too, so I’m hoping the same principle applies and that 6-8 are a little easier. But you never can tell.

One session I also had a common cold – which was horrible and involved an overnight ER visit! One session I slept the whole thing through, which was nice. And last session I had a reaction during treatment, had to stay MUCH longer than I’d hoped – ALL DAY ’til 530 pm – and ended up needing a blood transfusion on Friday, which also kept me all day ’til dinner at the hospital. It’s hard to tell.

I do know that my numbers are up some which is good. And that the doctors willing to adjust my meds to help me not have such a hard time this time. Chemotherapy kills your fast-reproducing cells, which includes the cancer cells, but also includes (among many others) the red and white blood cells and platelets produced in your bone marrow. That means you are super fatigued, dizzy/lightheaded, bleed easily and uncontrollably, and are immune-compromised (hence the terrible cold).

One thing they do to help with this is give me a follow up “booster” shot the day after which I’ll get tomorrow. It’s called Neulasta and it basically stimulates the bone marrow to make more platelets and red and white bold cells. The bad part is that it’s extremely painful to have that going on in your bones, especially in your joints.

Coupled with the Taxol which is also notoriously painful to the bones and joints, it was almost unbearable for me last time. It literally feels as though I’m getting stabbed in my bones in my lower back, hips and shoulders, a quick and acute pain that comes and goes in waves and basically causes me to writhe until it passes. It sucks. Chemo sucks.

Since I had a blood transfusion last time, my white and red blood cell counts are actually up! So the doc lowered my Neulasta shot dose from 6mg to 4mg. Woo hoo! Hopefully the pain is at least 30% less as well! I’ll let you know tomorrow when I find out. 🙂

Taxol also has some other side effects which have made it less fun than the A/C (Adriamycin/Cytoxan). For one, I am constantly breaking out in full body sweats. Then I’m freezing. My thermostats a wreck.

I also have gone 180 degrees in that with the A/C I had diarrhea for 8 weeks straight, I’m now dealing with excruciating constipation. Another internal system completely on the fritz. The good thing here is I can try to control this with diet.

Another good tidbit is that the nausea is not nearly as bad with the taxol as with the a/c. And so far my taste buds have been hanging strong. I love to enjoy good food and I’d be heartbroken if my palate was screwed up the way I hear others describe. If I couldn’t eat anything I would be so frustrated. But maybe I’d lose a few pounds. Instead I’m gaining weight which I actually hear is very common despite the stereotypes. I guess from eating comfort foods (like lots of plain noodles w butter and parmesan – yum!) and not exercising at all. I never thought I’d hear myself say this but I can’t wait to get back into the gym.

What else? Insomnia. Tingling hands and feet. My whole body’s skin will peel and shed in about 2 days. Headaches. Insomnia. Blurry vision. Exhaustion/fatigue like I’ve never known. Like I have to pause when I climb stairs. It burns out my muscles to lift my arms above my head. If I drop something I need someone else to pick it up. Headaches. Sweats.

But the bone pain is by far the worst.

Of course this is only on the bad week. After a week I’m getting back to normal. Still exhausted but everything else starts to get under control, and I am thankful for that.

I just want to say again how very very thankful I am to have a great group of friends and community in general who continue to prepare us meals, drive me to appointments and care for our children. And also just flood us with kind words and encouragement, week after week! It’s a long long haul and I couldn’t possibly do it without all of you. Thank you!! From my whole family, thank you!

Eternal thanks to Ann who came over and did the dirty work, and showed this tomboy how to tie a ribbon in my hair. Or should I say wig.

Basically, we first tied up all of my hair into little ponytails all over my head. I felt like if we just pulled it into one large ponytail we would lose some of the length and I wanted to be able to send as much and as long of pieces as I could to the charity.

After the ponytails were in place Ann went through and cut them all off one by one. We secured them in a plastic bag. We left my bangs in place since they were too short to send.

So there it is. Overall not terrible I suppose. But you’re not gonna see me bald!

The full photo journal of the night is below.

At the start of the surgery, the surgeon removes a single lymph node from the patient. The very first one in the armpit or axillary area, called the Sentinel Lymph Node. The lymph system filters your body to find intruders, like the flu virus, or like cancer. It sends notice of the intrusion back to the brain, which develops a strategy for removing the problem.

Sentinel lymph node biopsy of the breast. A radioactive substance and/or blue dye is injected near the tumor (first panel). The injected material is located visually and/or with a device that detects radioactivity (middle panel). The sentinel node(s) (the first lymph node(s) to take up the material) is (are) removed and checked for cancer cells (last panel).

They perform a biopsy on the single Sentinel node, right then and there during the surgery, to see if it is cancerous. If it is, they go back and grab the rest of the lymph nodes from around the armpit, and send them for further biopsy as well.

This is better than the old way of doing it; they used to just grab all the axillary lymph nodes in the area and send them all for biopsies, just in case. But losing a clump of lymph nodes can put a strain on the rest of your lymph system and can cause further life-long complications, like lymphedema.

So, I am thankful for the research that has proven if breast cancer has spread, it always goes to the Sentinel node first. If that node is clean, there is no need to take out the others.

Except mine was cancerous. The cancer has begun its way out of my breast, away from the tumor, and has started its journey into the rest of my body.

Without the full results, I already know my “stage” has jumped from Stage 1 to at least Stage 2. My odds of living 10 years have dropped, to 85%.

Facebook post to the world: