A Funny Story

Before my saga began, I had been part of an early morning exercise group down at the church.  I'd get up about 5:00 am to get down to the church for about 45 minutes.  This was three morning a week, starting on October.  The early hour meant that I really did not have to alter my day very much.  I would get home about the time I normally got up to get going for the day.

I joined this group because I knew I needed to lose weight.  I could not motivate myself to get on the treadmill downstairs.  I'd walk to and from work (a mile each way), if I did not have a nasty-grade hill to walk up to get to my house.

I was a regular part of the group until mid-January, when I had a cyst on my back become sore.  I did not want it to become infected because by that time I knew I had cancer and that my surgery was scheduled for the end of the month, after my surgeon got back from vacation. In the weeks that I went, the activity itself helped me lose about 12#, no change to my eating habits.  That was encouraging to me.

My cyst did become infected.  Its treatment caused my surgery to be postponed twice.  I did not return to morning exercise time.  That was the end of my attempts to lose weight, but I was thinking that I might resume that, once life got back to normal.

I had my surgery, followed by recovery time.  In the meantime, I was told that my pathology reports showed that I needed to have chemo and radiation.  In preparation for that, I had to have some tests done:  bone scan, bone density test, EKG, and a CT scan.  When I hopped on the scales to be weighed before I had the bone density test, I noticed I had lost eight more pounds.  I thought to myself, How can this be?  I have been relatively inactive for two months.  How could I have lost eight more pounds?

Then it dawned on me. 

After I got back to the house, I looked for the copy of my pathology report because I was sure I could find the information I needed there . . . I thought I had seen it.  All I needed to do was find some numbers and then convert them from grams to pounds.  Online I found a conversion table and plugged in the values.  The conversion came to about eight pounds.  I had literally lost those pounds on the surgical table. 

Now I knew how it was that I lost weight in spite of my inactivity! 

😀

Someday Everything Will All Make Perfect Sense

What I Am Learning

Part 1 soon comes to an end.  I still am waiting for my surgeon to discharge me.  That will be the culmination of the period of time that included the diagnosis of my disease, the challenges along the way, the surgery, the recovery, the next step.

   What am I learning?

• Taking one day at a time is the best way to work through this time in my life.
• Waiting is a common challenge in dealing with this disease.  Even now, I am waiting to know what the scans I had yesterday show/do not show.  I hope they show that the cancer has not spread elsewhere.
• Whether family, church family, colleagues, or the community – people care.
• Peace does come from God as I need it. It comes in extra-strength doses as I have needed it.
• Even when I have all sorts of time "free,"I still waste too much of it.
• I have a husband who loves me and cares for me, regardless.

What I find helpful:

Having a sense of humor, thus finding things to laugh about as this has happened.

Not staying holed up in my house, as long as I was feeling fairly well.

Two Christian women I have never met but have been where I am, one just a few weeks ahead of me.  They are ready to encourage me whenever I email them.  One lives in Pennsylvania and is a friend of my sister-in-law's sister; the other lives in Missouri and is a friend of my in-laws, Stan and Jackie, who are missionary-appointees under the mission board for which this lady works.

ACT Therapy

After meeting with Dr. Benjamin, when he laid out the plan, he told me the drugs  that will be used in my treatments.  This therapy is commonly referred to as ACT:  adriamycin, cytoxan, and taxol.  Dr. Benjamin told me that all three of these drugs are nasty, but the taxol would be a little less so.  The plan is to do the first four infusions, every other week, using adriamycin and cytoxan.  That will be followed by four more, every other week, of taxol.   I can expect to lose my hair   . . . I can expect to feel nauseous at times. 

Here are links to the information that I found on Scott Hamilton's CARES Initiative website (Cancer Alliance for Research, Education, and Survivorship).  Boring, I know; but I want to make it easy to come back when I am through and see how I fared, especially with the side effects.
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Before each infusion, there will be pills I take; afterwards, I will get prescriptions filled for steroids (three days each time) and anti-nausea drugs (five days' worth to use, as needed).

With the chemo, there will be shots (Neulasta) to try to keep my white blood count numbers up.


After chemo, then I will take hormonal therapy for five years.  First will be tamoxifen.  Then there will be aromasin.


Drugs are fast becoming my way of life.

Disappointments

It seems that no matter how hard I have tried to remain positive through my current health situation, nothing has gone my way. That sounds selfish — like I think God isn’t playing fair with me, like He just isn’t wanting me to catch a break.

I had hopes that my cancer surgery would be the only difficulty I would have to face. Have the surgery. Cut out the bad stuff. Heal. Take the daily hormonal therapy pill for five years. I could handle that all right.

The oncologist thought differently about my treatment after he read through the pathology report from my surgery. Because one of the tumors was rather large, larger than first thought, and because the cancer had invaded one of the lymph nodes, I was told that I have Stage IIIA cancer. Treatment would entail much more than just the pills. I heard the dreaded word, chemotherapy. The follow-up treatment being prescribed would also include radiation therapy.

Here I was, going from one easy follow-up treatment to having to do everything. That floored me. My husband was with me when I was told the news. He and I listened as the oncologist laid out the statistics of the chances of return of some type of cancer — 67% if I did only did one thing; over 40% of I did two of the things; less than 25% if I did all three. Probably those odds still aren’t all that encouraging; however, I think that once a person has cancer, the cancer always remains in the background — there always is a chance of its returning, no matter how low the percentages.

As we went on through the consultation in preparation for treatment, we were told that the approach was meant to be preventative and it would be aggressive. Chemo would happen every other week, eight times. The first four infusions would be especially toxic, especially nasty. The final four, although still toxic, would be less nasty. It is very probable that my hair would fall out before I even had the second infusion of the first kind.

Next would be a 4-6 week break in which there would be medical tests to see how the chemo has worked. This time would also be preparation for radiation therapy. This would happen five days a week for 6-7 weeks. I would be sent to a radiation oncologist for this phase of treatment. This therapy would probably cause fatigue and would be hard on the skin in those areas targeted to be zapped. Once this was done, then I would start the hormonal therapy — what I thought was maybe all I would have to do to begin with.

Needless to say, I felt as if I had been hit again, as I left from this appointment. I did NOT want to do chemo, not because of stories I have heard about it — or my remembering my friend Val and her doing chemo — I did not want to have to be missing out on “regular” life. I did not want to deal with losing my hair. I did not want to deal with not feeling good sometimes. I wanted to resume my regular life. That’s not to be.

As I often do, when I get hit with some difficult news, I just was very quiet. My husband knows this is how I get when I have to sort through things and try to work through them. I get quiet. I didn’t question God about the why of this. I just wasn’t sure I was ready for all of this. I thought I had had enough up to this point, from the testing in December, to the diagnosis in early January, to the delays because of the infection I developed on my back, to the surgery and on-going recovery. Wasn’t that enough? I thought to myself.

I had to remind myself that God has promised me that anything He sends my way I can handle, with His help. If it’s more than I can handle, it’s not going to happen. Do I really believe it?

Yes, I am disappointed that my disease is more involved than I first heard. Yes, I am disappointed that my recovery is being delayed. Yes, I am disappointed that my treatments now entail everything out there that is used to battle cancer.

How do I get over this? Set my mind where it belongs. God will not fail me. I have so many friends and family who are praying for me. They, too, are such a support for me. I am sure I will get through this.

No test or temptation that comes your way is beyond the course of what others have had to face. All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; He’ll never let you be pushed past your limit; He’ll always be there to help you come through it” (1 Cor. 10:13 — The Message).

Making Progress

So, have I gotten better about saying I am dealing with breast cancer?  In most ways, yes.  I might not be quick to say the word CANCER, but I am talking about my currently dealing with the disease.

What am I currently doing?

•      Going to the surgeon twice a week to have fluid drained.  First he uses a needle on each side to siphon out the fluid; then he goes back to squeeze and press more out.
•      Checking to see how my arms are doing as far as regaining movement in them at each appointment.
•      Checking to see if I have swelling in my left arm, signs of lymphedema, at each appointment.

Things seem better each time.

What’s coming:

•      Bone density test Thursday in preparation for my appointment with the oncologist on Monday.
•      Blood work for the same thing.
•      My usual TH appointment with the surgeon – probably the pattern as long as he keeps getting fluid.

What is my current fear?  Having to take chemo.  Why?  It reaffirms the fact that I am dealing with cancer.  I also do not want to lose my hair.  Selfish, I know.

Focused

How easy it is to let difficult news overwhelm us. It is so easy to let our minds run ahead of us and to maybe even begin to worry about the future.

Even before my diagnosis was confirmed, I was encouraged to not fret about the future; instead, I needed to focus on what things were true:

• Yes, I had a lump; but I have had lumps before that were nothing other than fibrocystic lumps.
• Yes, the mammogram and ultra-sound showed two suspicious areas; but a closer look may show no problems — just things to keep an eye on.
• Yes, the MRI confirmed those two areas as still suspicious-looking AND two possible new problems; but, biopsies may refute that any of it is cancerous. People get back negative results to biopsies.
• Yes, I had two biopsies on one side. The lumps still may not be cancerous. This is a final, closer check.
• Yes, results of the biopsies were held until ones were taken of the other side. May as well just meet once with the doctor about the results rather than twice — especially since I do not live in the city. Waiting does not mean trouble.

Step by step I went. I did not share with too many what was going on, as I did not know FOR SURE that there was a serious problem. Later others told me they wished I had said something sooner about what was going on so they could pray — I assured them that although I appreciated that, I was trying hard to stay focused on what was true . . . what was actual . . . what was real. To me, too much sharing would seem to me to be an indication that I was worried. I was thinking too much about my future. I believed that if I could keep my focus, I would be all right and not feel overwhelmed with what was suddenly going on in my life.

Two verses I latched onto at this point AND kept reminding myself of, if I caught myself fretting:

• Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. (Phil 4:8)
• “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble. (Matt. 6:34)

Even as things progressed on to my hearing my diagnosis,my initial treatment, pathology reports and their implications, etc., I found myself going back to these two ideas. One day at a time. Otherwise, this would just be so overwhelming.

Been Awhile

A lot of time has passed since my last entry – I may go back and fill in some earlier dates later.

Where am I?

•          Healing
•          Sore, especially in my arms; bruised
•          Seem pulled together across the chest area
•          Starting to have to exercise my arms more to regain some of their mobility, especially on the left side
•          Getting ready to finally be able to shower, after two weeks . . .
•          Have looked at the incision and stitching – WOW!  Very weird, though.
•          Thankful to know that the cancer problem seems to have been caught in time and that I made right decisions.  Thankful that only one node was affected.

Last evening Dennis counted that we have received 106 cards – today I got five more:  relatives, church people, school people.

So thankful that my sister Becky and her kids (Sara and Peter) were here last week to help out with a variety of things.  She even prepared several entrees to freeze for later use to make things a little easier for me, especially when I return to work.