keeping everyone up-to-date
I survived my second treatment of Paclitaxel just fine. The benedryl makes me lethargic but not enough to sleep sitting up in a brightly lit room.
I've been getting inquiries about how I am really doing which makes me think I am either not doing as well as I think I am or I am not communicating it to the people who are not blog readers. This morning, I wrote a letter that I can send to friends and family who may not have the detail they want. Breast cancer is a big disease with a huge range of kinds and severity. I'll reproduce it here for anyone who is a recent subscriber and has an aversion to archives. If you're curious, reading through November and December is the best illustration of the evolution of my acceptance of my diagnosis.
Here you go. Skip this if you are up-to-date. (Don't you love how I think everybody wants to know this? I don't really. I just don't want people to worry when there is no reason.)
Friends and Family,
I've been getting inquiries about how I am really doing which makes me think I am either not doing as well as I think I am or I am not communicating it to the people who are not blog readers. This morning, I wrote a letter that I can send to friends and family who may not have the detail they want. Breast cancer is a big disease with a huge range of kinds and severity. I'll reproduce it here for anyone who is a recent subscriber and has an aversion to archives. If you're curious, reading through November and December is the best illustration of the evolution of my acceptance of my diagnosis.
Here you go. Skip this if you are up-to-date. (Don't you love how I think everybody wants to know this? I don't really. I just don't want people to worry when there is no reason.)
Friends and Family,
After getting a few questions recently about how I am really
doing, I started thinking about it. Some of you may only know that I was
diagnosed with breast cancer in November and if you don’t read my blog or
follow me on Facebook where I tell all, you might not have enough detail to
know how much to worry.
It took me a while to get to being fine, I’ll admit. Breast
cancer is a huge range of kinds and severity. When I first started reading
about it, I was scared to death. Once I quit reading stuff on the internet and
started listening to my medical team, things got better.
I was diagnosed with invasive ductal carcinoma in the early
part of November after a mammogram, an ultrasound, and an ultrasound guided
biopsy and surgery the following week. The main tumor was quite small (1.5cm)
but there was cancer in 4 lymph nodes so it was categorized as Stage II. The
surgeon removed the lump in a lumpectomy and the lymph nodes in a dissection. I
was in the hospital only overnight and went home with an Ace bandage and a
drainage tube.
The cancer is called invasive because it was in the lymph
nodes, not because there is evidence of it anywhere else. The treatments are
precautionary…just in case some of those cancer cells got a chance to stray off
and set up outposts in other places. By my blood work and my lack of symptoms,
they don’t believe that is true.
My oncologist says if you have to get something, breast
cancer is not a bad thing. One in eight women will get it by age 65 (and it’s a
very popular disease…the pink ribbon campaign) so there is a ton of data and
they know how to treat it. My prognosis
is very positive.
I have had three treatments of Adriamycin and Cytoxan. They
give me so many drugs for nausea that I have never experienced any of it. The
treatments make me sleepy for a few days and tired most days, but otherwise I
have not been able to report any side effects. Last week, I started a twelve
week cycle of Paclitaxel. I’ll go every Thursday for a 3-4 hour infusion of
chemicals until April 18th. I’ll have about two weeks off, and then
will start daily radiation for 30 days. That’s a lot of precaution, I’d say! I
am hoping to be done by July 4th! Independence Day!
I have so much in my favor: my age (post-menopausal), my
tumor size (1.5 cm), my tumor is hormone positive and HER2 negative which means
it’s lazy as opposed to aggressive, my active lifestyle, my retirement (it
would be very had to do this with small children and a FT job) and my general
health.
I’m being treated at the Andreas Cancer Center in Mankato, a
Mayo facility, so if my oncologist has a concern, he is on the phone to someone
in Rochester in a flash. My surgeon was Tim Deaconson, the chief surgeon for
this Mayo region and the guy who did my biopsy, Dr. Wolfe, is the head radiologist. I’m
getting wonderful, first class care.
I’m part of a Phase 3 clinical trial which is too much to
explain here but it’s a good thing. I have the very best care, the attention of
a research nurse, and I’ll be followed for ten years.
If you decide you want to read my blog, November and
December show the evolution of my mood. The news was stunning at first but
gradually I accepted it and now I think of it as my hobby. Regis has been
wonderful, supporting me, driving me to every appointment, waiting during my
treatments, asking questions, and remembering all the things I forget. I might
have a disease but I don’t think of myself as sick because I don’t feel sick.
The worst parts of it are these: being housebound to avoid
germs because my immune system is suppressed, being tired, and all of the
appointments. But like I said, I am thinking of this as my hobby so I find
things to enjoy about all of it. My oncologist is a very funny guy who tells
great stories about growing up in Nebraska, my research nurse likes knit so we
share patterns, there is a little café on the corner where we stop and have
eggs or cheeseburgers. Life is good.
I love the cards and calls and packages. I appreciate your
support and concern. If there are other things you are concerned about or want
to know….please ask. I don’t mind at all talking about it. And women…don’t skip
those mammograms!
Teresa
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