The end

This is the last post on this blog. I am through sharing

Ants in My Pants

One more treatment to go! July 22nd is my last infusion of Herceptin. I'm excited, but not jumping around. I haven't got that kind of energy these days. This is just another milestone along this harrowing pothole-ridden road. Still living life in beige. I know I'm rather lucky considering how bad things could be, but I'm still not back mentally. Basically what I'm saying is there's nothing new here.

We're getting geared up and cleaning house for a wave of family visitors. So, after we came home from dinner tonight I set up the ironing supplies, switched a load to the dryer. Celal poured a beer. There was a sweet smell in the air. Was it kettle corn? Celal wasn't cooking. I worried the dryer was frying something exotic. Nope. It was the iron. But I am anal about the iron! I use distilled water for the steam. Why did it smell so sweet? Hmmf. Oh well. I began ironing.

Today

I'm getting a boob job! It's finally here. I'm more anxious than nervous today after a good sleep (surprisingly, I slept the entire night through). I'll be under the knife in just three hours - wish me luck and nice boobies!

Boobs

This Thursday! I can't say I'm excited so much as nervous Nelly, but it'll be nice to not have rocks in my chest anymore. I think I'm gonna throw up now. I can't imagine doing this on purpose. Silly girls. Silly boys. Boobs.

Well, in truth, I am doing this on purpose. But I couldn't cope with a pancake chest. I have enough shite to deal with. So, I'm a silly girl. Welcome to my life.

Six Months Later...

Strange as it may be, finishing radiation and chemo has been extremely difficult for me. Over time, cancer can kill your will. I have been in a defeatist downward spiral and a hypochondriac hell, with sporadic moments of happiness. There have been times that all I could imagine of my future was death. That scar tissue? Surely that's the cancer growing back. Those headaches? Surely that's the cancer spreading. I've also been bitter towards life in general. It's not fair. Everyone else is living their life, and I'm stuck wading in this pool of shit. Waaaah, waaah, whine, whine. So, this had been the majority of my mindset in the past few months. It's ridiculously depressing, but I lost control. Cancer can do that. To borrow a thought from an article I recently read - some people say that cancer is a gift and can make you appreciate life even more. Can I fucking return it, please? I appreciated life well enough, thank you very much. Upside down, right side up, backward, or forward, there is nothing positive about this experience. I'm a naysayer. All it has done is make me bitter.

In spite of all that, the past month has been good for me. We took a road trip to NY. I remember as we were rounding our final lap on the BQE bypassing the nighttime Manhattan skyline, I got a breath of life again. I became happy. We spent time with family for two weeks, and it was uplifting. I love New York. And life has been on an upswing since. I've been coasting at my top weight for the past six months, and have finally had the energy to become proactive. I've dropped 10 pounds so far (still have 20 to go) by going to the gym almost every day and eating healthier. I am finally making progress. I have a long way to go, but I'm moving forward again.

And then yesterday happened. It was a milestone. Let's backpedal for a minute. My oncologist's philosophy, and the general consensus in the medical community regarding my type of breast cancer, is that they don't do routine scans after treatment. I had a double mastectomy, and there is no breast tissue. For monitoring, they simply do blood tests (and I assume they check tumor markers), and physical exams. It makes one quite weary, but that's the way they do it. If the cancer is coming back, there will be symptoms, and I guess the studies that have been done show no better prognosis one way or the other. I've had a hard time prescribing to this methodology. However, I went to see my radiation oncologist (a different doctor) to get a checkup three months post-radiation and her mentality is that it's better to catch it early if something is going on. It's also relieving for the patient. So, she ordered my CT scan, and I went in on Tuesday for a scan from the neck down to my lower abdomen. This is the first scan I've had in almost a year and I was beyond nervous. Well, I went to the doctor for a routine monthly shot yesterday, and asked for the results certain that they wouldn't be ready yet. But, they were. To make matters worse, the nurse told me that the doctor needed to read it first before I could get the results, so I had to wait 15 minutes thinking that something might be wrong. Why would she need to see them first? I don't know. Anyway, I started crying as soon as she told me. Everything is normal. Granted there are two other scans I still need to confirm (a bone scan and a brain MRI), this is pretty good news!! I'm so so happy.

...

Ticking clocks

Did you hear those crickets?

It's been quite a while since my infamous disappearing post. I decided to postpone writing for a while after I stirred some controversy. I also gave up dairy for a while. And Facebook. And photography.

My soul is dry and I am tired.

Raindrops on Roses

Hi friends! Four a.m. seems like the perfect time to write after a two-month hiatus, don'tcha think? I'm rounding the last lap of chemo, with only two weeks to go! I can't pinpoint the reason for absence of writings, but it could have something to do with a lack of ability to articulate my thoughts in words, those lovely neurotoxins, perhaps... or perhaps a tired mind. Chemo is quite a good place to be, relatively - at least, it provides the illusion of progress, and at most, it actually fulfills its service. Unfortunately, this bender is coming to an end, and I must face the reality of quarterly exams and wait for the results with sweat on my palms.

This three months of treatments, which have been every Wednesday, has been quite different in nature than the first three months. Taxol and Herceptin are strange substances. The cocktail leaves me hyper and talkative (i.e., not me) on days one and two, and I mostly pull college hours on Wednesdays, hitting the pillow around 7am. I'm productive. But everyone has been walking on eggshells around me, as I develop a severe case of irritabilities on this weekly cycle. The decadron (steroids) gives me a lovely breakout rash come Thursdays, and my ravishing appetite has gifted me some extra pounds. I'm weighing in at my heaviest - 67 kilos as of yesterday - just about 148 pounds. It's depressing. But this is it. I have no nausea, no lethargy, nothing of the likes of the first three months of chemo. My hair is coming back, but it's still not me in the mirror. I did buy two funtastic wigs. But sometimes they make me cry. I hate looking like a drag queen. But there is a good side, I suppose. When I get nostalgic and peruse through the photos of the past two years, I can see myself a bit more objectively, through a stranger's eyes. And I really deserved to treat myself with a higher esteem. I promise to do myself better in the future. Hooray for self esteem.

In boob news, I finally healed and started to have the injections in the tissue expanders. Doc will keep pumping me up until radiation starts, which should be upon completion of chemo, I am assuming. I won't be having my final reconstruction (that boob job I've been advertising) until six months after radiation is complete. I am not too happy to wait this long, but apparently he can't do it any sooner because the tissue will not be healthy enough.

So, in summary, here's what's left:
- Chemo: 2 weeks!!!!!!
- Herceptin: 9 months after chemo, every 3 weeks
- Radiation: 5 1/2 weeks, every day
- Breast reconstruction surgery: 6 months after radiation is complete
- And finally: Removal of the power port, after herceptin is done

In total: About nine months and three weeks left. I'm staying strong, I really am. I'm even proud of me.