TGIF
On Friday morning, I finally got a chance to meet with my oncologist as opposed to the nurse practitioner. Jeff accompanied me since it was an official doctor visit. The receptionist commented on my glowing complexion. She seemed genuinely surprised that I didn't look more pale and sickly. In the waiting room I ran into two new friends -- I'm such a social butterfly in the breast cancer community! Oncology offices are full of patients aged 60+, so the younger women seek each other out. All three of us were waiting to see the same doctor. Dr. P seems to be the breast oncologist in Austin.
The appointment started off great. I have white blood cells galore, and Dr. P called me an "overachiever" with regard to my shrinking tumors. (Yay, I love praise!) Then she gave me my clinical stage: IIIA. (A is better than B or C, so more good news!) Then I brought up ovary suppression versus ovary removal; I came loaded with questions about long-term effects and possible links to endometrial cancer or dementia. She proceeded to give me a sobering speech about how this aggressive breast cancer is by far the most likely thing to kill me. (She's not wrong: the five-year survival rate for stage III is somewhere around 75%.) Then she told me to have a nice weekend.
The appointment started off great. I have white blood cells galore, and Dr. P called me an "overachiever" with regard to my shrinking tumors. (Yay, I love praise!) Then she gave me my clinical stage: IIIA. (A is better than B or C, so more good news!) Then I brought up ovary suppression versus ovary removal; I came loaded with questions about long-term effects and possible links to endometrial cancer or dementia. She proceeded to give me a sobering speech about how this aggressive breast cancer is by far the most likely thing to kill me. (She's not wrong: the five-year survival rate for stage III is somewhere around 75%.) Then she told me to have a nice weekend.
Source: breastcancer.org
Jeff and I drove straight to my next doctor appointment: a consult with a plastic surgeon. I was not prepared for the amount of information that would be thrown at me during the next two hours. My case is not straightforward; I have options but none of them are perfect. The bottom line is that I will end up with tissue expanders at the time of my mastectomy, and six months after I finish radiation, I will have them replaced with either implants or a DIEP flap (I have limited tissue to work with). Then come the revision surgeries. Fat grafting sounds fun. So much for an October finish line -- maybe 2021 is more realistic.
Overwhelmed, I went to pick up Claire from preschool, and she threw an epic temper tantrum over not having time to play on the playground. I'd been feeling lightheaded all day and found it physically impossible to carry my kicking child to the car. I had to alternate chasing her and lying in the dirt. Her nap stuff ended up in the bushes. I can't go back there; we'll have to find a new preschool.
Later that night I had my second ugly cry since diagnosis.
On Saturday, I woke up optimistic and slathered concealer on my puffy eyes -- it's a new day! Julia had her first softball game and didn't cry once, and I did a ton of laundry and developed painful mouth sores. I got to go on a wild goose chase for a healing mouthwash prescribed by the on-call physician, and along the way I picked up a bag of CBD brownies. Aren't weekends fun?
Overwhelmed, I went to pick up Claire from preschool, and she threw an epic temper tantrum over not having time to play on the playground. I'd been feeling lightheaded all day and found it physically impossible to carry my kicking child to the car. I had to alternate chasing her and lying in the dirt. Her nap stuff ended up in the bushes. I can't go back there; we'll have to find a new preschool.
Later that night I had my second ugly cry since diagnosis.
On Saturday, I woke up optimistic and slathered concealer on my puffy eyes -- it's a new day! Julia had her first softball game and didn't cry once, and I did a ton of laundry and developed painful mouth sores. I got to go on a wild goose chase for a healing mouthwash prescribed by the on-call physician, and along the way I picked up a bag of CBD brownies. Aren't weekends fun?
I could go for some CBD brownies right about now. Enjoy. Hang in there.
ReplyDeleteThey were Superseed Well brand. Gluten free and vegan! They even had chia seeds. You would've loved them!
DeleteI got to be the sane one on Friday! I very carefully rebuilt the family from the shattered pieces, and we all love each other again!
ReplyDeleteThe reconstruction firehose-of-information was overwhelming. We expected to have a lot of paths trimmed as being unavailable to us so that we could focus on the real decisions. But the doctor seems to think everything is possible. Yay? He kept reminding us that nothing will be perfect and that the best thing was to not get cancer in the first place. Thanks? After 2 hours in that office we think we have a mental map of all the branches in the decision tree in front of us. First decisions are necessary maybe a month before surgery, so I think that's in June. I believe the mastectomy will try to spare different tissue based on whether we plan a DIEP or implants.
Oh Jami. I can only imagine how overwhelming it must be to try and make sense of all the options. Even for someone like you, who loves (and is amazing at) researching and getting all the facts before making a decision. and then to be met with a toddler meltdown to come back to reality? oh wait- it's all reality. Love you girl. You are strong and handling everything with so much grace.
ReplyDeleteThanks Jackie! Wish we could go back to Lake Austin Spa and diagram my if->then chart together.
DeleteOnly two ugly cries? You are so strong and amazing. I would have melded into my couch by now.
ReplyDeleteMy eyes swell up so badly when I cry. I look like a monster for 24 hours.
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