I’ll make this one a shorty seeing as how it’s five minutes to 2 a.m. and I have to get up at 7 a.m. to do this breast cancer strides walk. Hope talked me into it. I’m not one for getting up this early unless there are killer yard sales or there’re two feet of fresh snow at the resorts. The mountains in Utah aren’t open yet (that’ll come in Nov.) and it’s too cold for garage sales. I think it was guilt that motivates me. After Hope’s piece on Fox13 (see link in my FB posts), I received a few emails calling me an ‘inspiration’. Huh? I’m just doing what I’m told and trying to ignore the fact that I have a life-threatening disease.
I finished round three of chemo a week ago and am just fine thank you! Halfway through treatment now. Was a tad queasy last Saturday but that had more to do with lack of sleep and then doing nothing but sit around the house all day. By Monday, I was climbing and jumping on my Stair Master. The past two days have been spent researching the possiblity of doing radiation concurrent with chemo instead of waiting until chemo was done before starting 6 weeks of radiation (which, btw, would mean really f*^king up Christmas and January).
I figured since I was handling chemo so well, I could take the extra punch. None of the doctors in Utah seem to be up on this little time saver so I’ve had to Google like mad and contact cancer hospitals outside of the state. And here I thought the Huntsman Center was state of the art! After my research it seems that not only is CMF/radiation together viable but it may increase the longterm survival rate by 10 %. Plus, it keeps me from dragging my treatment into the next health insurance calendar year. Any sane person wouldn’t think twice. The side effects? They tell me my boob might not look as nice. Anyone out there can attest or deny this claim?
The stuff I’ve read so far says there’s no difference in looks at the 3 year point. You might be wondering how the twins are holding up at this point. Still small and perky. You can barely tell I had surgery. The scar blends in and there’s no divet from the chunk of tumor they removed. Thank you, Dr. Neumeyer! Ryan can even squeeze them now and there’s no pain or difference in touch between left and right. If it weren’t for my head I could be ‘normal’ again. My head though constantly takes me on walks where I wonder if there will ever be a time in the future that I can say to someone, “I had cancer” instead of “I have cancer”.
It’s a strange thing to feel like this disease will stick with you longer than family. Speaking of which. My sister’s birthday is this week. I sent her a blanket. 🙂