Blonde Moment, Or Chemo Brain?

This is complicated really. Probably too complicated for a brain that belonged to a blonde to begin with.  And definitely too complicated for a chemo brain, but then almost everything is too complicated for a chemo brain!...I've been doing some really bizarre things lately.  I'll never be able to figure out if these somewhat comical moments are caused by lingering chemo brain, or if I should be welcoming the return of my "blonde moments".  Frankly, I had thought the worst of the "chemo brain" was behind me.  I was pretty confident that the hair on my head would hold some of the brain cells in... I seem to be remembering much more (I haven't had to look at my drivers license to remember how to spell my last name in several weeks), and I am relying less and less on the post it notes (thank goodness for that, because I was contributing to a huge growth in sales at 3M all by myself!).

So I am left to wonder, is it chemo brain, or a blonde moment?  Last night, I went to bed with the back door open.  I mean the whole way open.  I had apparently, at some point before retiring let the dogs out, and forgotten to close the door.  I didn't know anything about it until this morning when Lucy jumped out of bed and ran like a crazed boxer straight through the kitchen and out the back door.  I panicked at first, even went as far as to yell, "Lucy, STOP!".  She was running so fast, and I didn't know the door was open, so I was pretty stunned when I didn't hear the sound of a boxer crashing into glass.  Now I'm left to wonder when the "Florida Critters" will start rearing their little heads in my living room.  There is bound to be complete pandemonium, I will be shocked if I do not have at least one frog and one lizard in the house (it wouldn't be the first time!).

I have a real problem with remembering if I closed the garage door (in my defense, my brother also has this same issue, so it's entirely possible that this could be hereditary).  And I worry about it, probably excessively because the door between the house and the garage can open if the pressure shifts and  hits it the right way (I worry that the dogs could get out if the door would blow open!).  Monday, I left the house,  and got the whole way out to the round about when I had that "uh oh" moment.  "Did I, or did I not close the garage door?"  That is the perfect moment to have these nervous breakdowns because I'm already in the roundabout (I swear that roundabouts were invented for people just like me- people who couldn't remember if they turned off the coffee pot, unplugged the iron, or shut the garage door!).  I returned home, and found the door was indeed shut.  But, it mustn't have been very memorable, because I got a mile further than I had originally, when I turned around to check the door for the second time that morning.  I sure hope my neighbors aren't paying attention- they would probably think it's early dementia- frankly I have my concerns.

Yesterday, I drove right past the bank.  Yep, right past it.  Wouldn't have been too bad, except I did it twice.  3rd time's a charm, right?  And my husband wonders why I usually set the GPS no matter where I'm going, it's usually the 1st thing I do when I get in the car, after I figure out where I'm going.  (The only complication with this fix is, I had to shut the voice off because it drives me crazy- YES, YOU CRAZY BITCH, I KNOW I'M SUPPOSED TO TURN THERE.... STOP TELLING ME!  So, if I forget to watch the screen (probability of this is very high...), it's easy to miss the turn.

I searched and searched the other day for my handbag.  I usually put it right on the kitchen counter when I come in the door.  I went back out to the car in the garage at least 3 times- I was a little concerned that I had left it in the buggy at the grocery store.  But, since the car won't start unless the key fob is in the car somewhere, I figured I hadn't done this.  Lucy and Duke sat and watched me like I had gone criminally mad as I ran from room to room, and out to the garage.... I finally found it.... in the refrigerator (I suspect L &D knew it was there all along....).  My husband wonders what I do all day...  Uh, hello!

I put food in the crock pot several days ago.  2 hours later, I could not figure out why the meat did not seem to be defrosting. I thought the crock pot was broken, and transferred the food into crock pot number two.  Why did it not occur to me to check the nob and see if it was turned on?  Sometimes, and only sometimes, food cooks faster when you turn the appliance in charge of cooking the food "ON!".  I'm just sayin.... Take it for what it's worth.

There are definitely more of these kinds of moments, but I'm sure it won't surprise you much to know that even though I know there are more of them, I cannot remember what they are.  I wonder if there are known side effects on the brain from radiation?....

What was I talking about again?

Speaking of which.... today was a milestone radiation day!  I am 1/3 of the way done!  So far so good, my skin is holding up really well- (although I have a rash on my chest that I can't figure out what is causing it.  I suspect the Herceptin might be to blame, because there have been some other weird things going on too!)  It is a tiny bit on the pink side, but I am religious about the aloe and the extra moisturizing cream at night.  I really do not want anything to knock me off schedule!  I need to get this done!

Gotta run, I know there is something I'm supposed to be doing....

Embrace That Inner Pixie, Girl!

 PIXIE: a cheerful mischievous sprite.  

It's kind of a funny thing.  Well, it's funny to me.  Everywhere I go, people are stopping me to tell me that they "love" my haircut.  Nice, right?  Well, as you all know, this isn't really a haircut.  It's the regrowth process that follows hair loss compliments of chemo therapy- at least to me, this is no fashion statement.  I really have no complaints (other than the fact that the growing phase is a little too slow) about this newly found hair on top of my head.  It's amazingly soft, and the color is beautiful and shiny.

When we were having dinner in Georgia, one of the servers came over to our table.  She proceeded to tell my husband and I that she wished that she had the "guts" to go that short.  As she was going on and on about not having the courage to cut her hair as short as mine, I battled with telling her the truth.  I mean here she is thinking that I'm some kind of trail blazing woman trying to make a statement with a super short pixie, and the truth is that I really didn't have a say in the matter.  And honestly, since I'm being super truthful, if I had a choice in the matter, I never would have said good-bye to my long, blonde locks.  The gushing got to the point where I had to tell her- actually she asked me how I found the courage to do it and that was the kicker, the moment of truth I couldn't let her continue to think that I was something that I was not.  I told her that I had just undergone chemo for breast cancer.  And suddenly the babbling stopped, she had no idea what to say to me, her face went white.  I hurriedly smiled and said, "It's all right, I'm gonna live!  I'm cancer free!"

At a gas station 2 hours outside of Atlanta, the owner of the gas station complimented me on my "beautiful hair".  (I looked over my shoulder to see who he was talking to, yes, I'm still getting used to having hair on my head again!)  He proceeded to ask me if I was Scandinavian, and said that I had "amazing cheekbones".  Uh, no!   Again, I battled with the telling him the truth.  And just yesterday as I was cruising the aisles of Ulta looking for miracle products to help my eyelashes (more on that in another post), a women comes up to me and tells me how "darling" my haircut is.  I just said "thank you" and moved on- after all, I was a woman on a mission.

This is a rather award stage for me.  I once again find myself in a position where strangers are curious about me, but for different reasons than the ones that were around a few months ago.  While I think I did a good job of not looking like I was knocking on death's door the whole way through chemo therapy, my bald head was a tell tale sign that I was a cancer patient.  More often than not, I found myself being approached in public places and being asked what kind of cancer I had- I have talked to a lot of cancer survivors in the aisles of Publix and Wal Mart.  Now, I'm being approached because of my "super daring" haircut!

Yesterday, I was leaving the "chemo" room, and I stopped for a quick chat with the gentleman next to me.  I had overheard him telling the chemo nurse that he had lost his wife to breast cancer in 2007.  For the obvious reasons, these are conversations that I find myself wishing to avoid, but I make myself do it, because the cold hard reality of the situation is I could have lost my life to breast cancer and having these conversations makes me realize how fortunate I really am.  I talked with him for a few minutes, and headed out.  As I walked past another patient, she looked at me and said, "You're so lucky you're out of here!"  I chuckled and said that I had paid my dues, been there done that.  She smiled at me and winked and as I turned the corner, I heard the gentleman that  I had spoken with say "Boy, she's a sassy little pixie, isn't she?".  I couldn't have been more touched by the words that I heard next from one of the chemo nurses, "She has been that way the entire time she has been in treatment, and she had one of the toughest breast cancer treatments."  Wow!

So, as I jumped in my car and prepared to head out to radiation,  I wondered what the definition of pixie is.  This morning I looked it up and realized that my hair, however unintentional, is somewhat of a compliment to the attitude that I have embraced throughout this cancer business.  I'm not making any promises that this pixie  (at least the haircut part anyway) will be around for any length of time, but I have made the decision to embrace her- because I truly am a mischievous little sprite with a cheerful attitude!

Sorry, Charlie- I Just Can't Accept That....

Call it women's intuition.

Call it a gut feeling.

Call it whatever you like, somehow I just knew that removing my axillary lymph nodes was going to be a problem.  As I sat in the office of a very pregnant radiation oncologist at the end of May discussing my concerns about radiation and lymphodema, and she assured me that there was no possible way that I could get lymphodema (because I am too thin, too young, too healthy, not diabetic, not a smoker, too active etc, etc, etc,) I had a gut feeling that she was wrong.  Somehow her instincts, or her gut feelings were a bit skewed by all of the hormones racing through her body.

As I raised concerns several times throughout the whole chemotherapy process about the horrible pain in my lymph nodes, I wondered if they weren't going to continue to be a problem.  But, I was told that pain in my lymph nodes during chemo was "normal".  I questioned the swelling throughout chemo in both my feet, my arms, and my hands.  It was all "normal".  Of course, there is no possible way that I could have had a lymphatic system in distress.... nope, not me.  It was not even up for discussion.

All along, I've had a gut feeling about my lymph nodes. (I really need to learn that my gut is pretty smart, and I should start listening to it on a regular basis, and sooner rather than later.).  I could even honestly admit that I have lost sleep over the swelling in my arms- it has concerned me for a very long time.  Maybe part of it is vanity, but more than that, I did not want to accept the limitations that were going to accompany lymphodema.  All along, my plan has been for a full recovery.  I knew that I was going to have to be extremely careful with my arms and hands.  No more manicures, no cuts, burns, stings, etc. to either one of my arms- any one of those things could cause an infection that would activate lymphodema in my arms.  But, there's even more than that with full blown lymphodema.  Being in the sun for long periods of time is completely out of the question, no hot tubs, no saunas, no jewelry on the affected side, no lifting anything over 15 pounds on the affected side.... and it goes on and on.  No, I was not prepared to deal with lingering problems like these.  These things do not fall under the category of "as good as new"....

Several weeks ago, I noticed that swelling in my left arm did not seem to be subsiding- despite the fact that I was doing the "Lymphodema prevention" exercises 3 or more times per day.   And this was at the 6 week mark from surgery.   My gut told me that there was a problem.  I immediately called the surgeons office and asked for a script to see a specialist.  It took me 3 weeks to get in to see a lymphodema therapist.  In the meantime, I've really been stressing about this.  And I'm probably over-reacting.  The swelling is not even that bad.  Unless you're really looking for it, you can't even tell that my arms are swollen.  But, I know it's there.  And this is not a condition that goes away, well not usually.... (I'm told that in very rare occasions, they have had women whose conditions disappeared several months after surgery, and after treatments have subsided.... so there is still hope!  And my radiation oncologist suspects that this is a combination of post-surgery swelling and swelling from the Herceptin treatments.)  There is also no known cure for this condition.

My therapist says my lymphatic system is definitely not functioning properly, but she is holding out hope, that with treatment, one or two of the little suckers left in my arm pit, will wake the heck up and start doing their jobs.  Yesterday was bad.  She did therapy on me and then proceeded to wrap my arm in 4 layers of stuff.  As I was making another appointment, trying not to look at my huge Michelan man arm, I noticed that my fingers were turning purple.  "MOVE EM!", she said.  I tried, I honestly did.  I wiggled em, and moved em like crazy, but it was getting worse, and the numbness was shooting the whole way up my arm.  So, as I was sitting in traffic, I was ripping off 4 layers of gauze.  I knew that wasn't going to last.

I'm sure it will come as no surprise that I have done a ton of research and reading on lymphodema.  I refuse to accept that this condition cannot be well managed, without huge changes in my every day routines.  (I just can't imagine never being able to soak in a hot tub again, I mean really?)  Actually, while I'm being truthful, I refuse to believe that this condition is really lymphodema and not just some post-surgical swelling with a little bit of a bad reaction to the Herceptin thrown in there just for good measure.  If it were truly lymphodema, the swelling would not subside with elevation... or so I am told.

So what are my options, and what can I do?  Well, if I had a horrible diet filled with tons of sugary and processed foods, I could eliminate those, but I already did that.  Supposedly berries (blueberries, raspberries, blackberries) are very good at stimulating the lymph system (so I've upped the intake of those), potassium is good- enter more bananas.  I have learned how to breath differently, I breath in through my nose while pushing my stomach out, and exhale while contracting my stomach muscles (that took a ton of practice!).... And supposedly one of the best forms of exercise for stimulating the lymphatic system- is jumping on a trampoline.  We did not have one of those.... but I found a very small one (46") that arrived this afternoon.  (I will be enlisting the help of 2 boxer dogs later this evening!)  Hopefully, I will be jumping in no time flat... I think I am gonna enjoy that.

This is what I am up against.  And I would be lying if I said that I am not frustrated with this situation.  I am more frustrated than anything that my physicians (3 of them) cannot seem to agree on what this is.  Are they just unwilling to admit that they were wrong?  Or do they just not know?  Maybe they're unwilling to admit that the Herceptin is so toxic that it's causing this horrible reaction?  I have no idea.  What I do know is that I am unwilling to accept that this is going to alter the way that I live my life.  I did not just go through hell to not be able to do any of the things that I like to do.  I'm just not okay with that... so If I have to jump for 45 minutes a day while sipping on blueberry-raspberry-blackberry-banana juice, breathing in through my nose and pushing out my stomach, and exhaling and sucking it in.... well then SO BE IT!

2 Down... 31 To Go!

Yes, I am counting it down.

Yes, I am ready to be finished with all of this.

So, I have had 2 of 33 radiation treatments.  The first one, nerve wise, was the worst.  I've always said that I can deal with things when I know what to expect, but not knowing what I'm getting myself into freaks me out a little bit. I was a nervous wreck walking in there on Wednesday.  I think if I'm to be honest with myself, this has just been an emotional week.

I'm going to try to take a picture today of the radiation machine, if they'll let me.  It's really not what I was expecting.  It looks a lot like a giant MRI machine, but with arms, and without the tube part.  Okay, it looks nothing like an MRI machine.   There is a big round arm that has little metal panels inside of it that move into different shapes.  It hovers over top of me, and buzzes.  I think that's the radiation.  When it's done with that spot, it moves around to the next spot.   They are radiating both of my breasts, my chest wall, my throat and both arm pits (because the cancer had spread to both sides.).  All said, I'm in and out of there pretty quick.  20 minutes tops.  I spend more time battling the stupid Orlando drivers there and back than I actually do there.

So, far the only thing that I'm noticing is that my entire chest feels really hot for several hours after treatment.  I am not burned so far- but there have only been 2 treatments.  I bought a pure aloe spray yesterday, and am spraying the entire area that they are radiating 3 times a day after treatment.  Honestly, the cold feels really good.

Yesterday I went for what should be my next to last Echo-cardiogram.  It's the first one I've had since my tissue expanders were placed, and she had a little bit of a hard time getting to my heart around those babies.  They are checking to make sure that the Herceptin is not doing damage to my heart.  Maybe I'm reading too much into this, but this is the first time she hasn't said to me "All good!" when she was done.  I've had the same girl every time I've been there.  I'll be nervous about that until the doctors office calls me with results, and they may not even call knowing that I will be there next Friday, but since I'm not seeing the doctor, maybe they will call.

Thursday I went to see a physical therapist.  I have a few post-surgery issues that I think need to be addressed.   I am not the kind of person that is just willing to accept things as they are because someone tells me that I have to.   I have a lot of swelling in my left arm- it comes and it goes.  Some days, it doesn't bother me at all.  I personally think it's the Herceptin, because it follows the same pattern every round, but because they took my lymph nodes out, lymphedema is a concern.  (A concern that I was told I didn't need to have- I'm not sure that's true.)  The other issue is my displaced clavicle.  The therapist could not believe that they are just planning to leave it that way- actually I was told "You'll have to live with that!"  She thinks that she can gradually work that back into place... for which I would be forever grateful.  To the untrained eye, it would be un-noticeable that I favor this left side- but I know it's a little off, and that bothers me.  So, we are going to work on that.

And that folks, is the update from the Breast Cancer Fighting arena.  I am off for round 3 of radiation, but first I am going to sit on the porch, with my coffee, and watch the incredible storm rolling in.

Rest, Relaxation, and A Complete Meltdown!

I know.  I have been missing in action for more than a week.  But, I have a lot of good excuses.  Seriously, I do.  It's been a very busy 10 days.

The week of August 3rd, Rob and I took the dogs and headed up to the Georgia mountains for a little- oh heck- strike that- A LOT of rest and relaxation.  We had an overabundance of peace, even though his cell phone still worked there.  (I will admit, I had secret thoughts about throwing that damn thing in the creek and pretending that I didn't know anything about it.  Lucy and Duke were no help, they're both past the point of chewing on things that they aren't supposed to be chewing on.  I secretly prayed that a little boxer mischievousness would come over Lucy, but it wasn't meant to be!)

We rented a cabin, in the woods on a creek in Blue Ridge, Georgia.  It was heaven on earth. (Doesn't it just scream come on in and curl up by the fire with a boxer?) And the Georgia mountains are absolutely fabulous.  Nothing but blue sky and tons of green trees for as far as you can possibly see.  I've never been in the Georgia mountains before, so I was completely blown away by how spectacular the skylines really are.  We just don't see miles and miles of green here in Florida.  And there are certainly no hills covered in green trees.  I am a Pennsylvania girl- a country girl- I miss the trees and the amazing hillsides.

We sat on the deck with Lucy & Duke every morning drinking coffee and listening to the creek.  Duke and I ventured down the hill a couple of mornings to collect twigs to build fires at night.  All I wanted was to roast a marshmallow or two, but somehow that never happened (maybe it was the little voice in my head that kept saying a marshmallow does not fall under the category of clean eating!).  The fires did happen, and they were amazing.  What is it about the smell, and the sound of a camp fire that just takes you back?  I guess I grew up around a bonfire, so no matter how far from the country this little girl gets- it will always be a part of me, and something that I enjoy immensely!  I was very happy to see that my fire building skills are still intact!  Yes, I was a Girl Scout.

The dogs were in 7th Heaven, and I was overjoyed to have them with us.  It's always the dogs that make me eager to return home from vacation- I always miss them so much when we're away, so it meant a lot to me to have them on vacation with us.  And Lucy, positively loved playing in the creek. (Duke was only willing to dip a toe in.  Shh... I didn't tell anybody that!) I was so proud of her- she did so well off leash.  Of course, Duke has always done well off leash- he is stuck to his mama like glue no matter where we go!  That boy isn't going anywhere where he can't see me.

I seriously could have stayed in Georgia.   Did you know that Georgia is in the wine business?  We didn't, but they are, and they are very good at it too!  Yes, I'm admitting to the fact that we drank way too much wine in the 5 days we were in Georgia.  We didn't eat any peaches, but we did have a cantaloupe that was as sweet as the ones my Grandad used to grow- that really took me back.  And the day that we bought the cantaloupe would have been his birthday- I think he would have really liked that.  He was always so proud of his melons.

We got home late on Thursday night- you can shorten a 9 hour drive considerably when you go 95 miles per hour.  I was thankful that none of the many state boys along side the road nabbed me, but radar detectors help a lot with that.  Friday was catch up day.  Why is that when I leave for 5 days, there are 30 messages on the voicemail, and 200 faxes that require my immediate attention?  It was just such a switch from the calm that I had just left.  All of the paper made me want to scream.  I would have loved to just stand over the trash can with it and pitch but that would have been a disaster of epic proportions.

Saturday was my birthday day with my 2 best gal pals.  I started the morning off with a trip to the Woodhouse Day Spa.  I had the most heavenly detox wrap.  (Of course, I was seriously in need of being detoxed... between the chemotherapy and all of the wine I drank in Georgia, my body was reeling from the shock!)  We followed our trip to the day spa with a long, girls lunch at Seasons 52, right on the water.  It was beautiful- until a storm of hurricane like proportions moved in and we were stranded.  (I'm guilty, it was all my fault.  I took the convertible thinking it was a great day for a ride with the top down.  And it never fails to rain when I have those kinds of thoughts!)  Lunch was amazing, and I had a blast with the girls.  I felt so spoiled and pampered- and blessed to have 2 friends who went to epic proportions to make me feel incredibly special.

Monday I reported to Florida Hospital for my radiation films- it was the appointment that had hung over my head the entire time I was on vacation.  It was my first time in the big, scary radiation machine.  While the process itself was not intimidating- it was just like getting an x-ray, the marks that they left all over my body really freaked me out.  I didn't know how bad it was until I got home and looked in the mirror to see my entire chest and throat covered in black and red marks.  I guess that up until this point, I just didn't know how much radiation I was going to be getting.  It seriously messed with my head.  I immediately grabbed a washcloth and a bar of soap and started scrubbing, but no matter how much I scrubbed, the image stayed in my mind.  Two days later, it's still there even though most of the marks are gone.

I know in my head that I have to do this if I really want to be sure that the cancer is gone. I know it's the best thing, it's the last step in this whole curing cancer business.  I know there could be nasty little cancer cells floating all through my body right now just looking for a place to grow, I have no way of knowing.  I'm praying that once radiation is over with, that I will have some peace of mind that I'm not going to be battling cancer all over again, but somehow I just don't think that thought is ever going to go away.  I think that once you have cancer, that thought is always a part of you.

They wanted to do my first radiation treatment yesterday.  But, somehow, having my first radiation treatment on my 40th birthday just didn't seem like a good idea.  I wanted no part of it.  So, today, August 13th is my 1st treatment.  When I was there on Monday, they gave me a schedule.  It only has 28 days of treatment on it, I was expecting 33, so I need to ask them today if the plan has changed.  Wouldn't that be a gift?  I'll probably have a melt down if they tell me that they made a mistake, but I'm going to wait and see what they say.

Monday was just too much for me.  For some reason, even with everything else I've been through, that radiation appointment was the one that sent me over the edge.  Maybe it's the fact that I've been so calm through all of this, maybe it was the calm after the storm.  I'm just not sure.  I just know that Monday night I just freaked out.  I'm sure it's sounds crazy that I went the whole way through multiple PET scans, 6 chemotherapy treatments, and a double mastectomy and then I went a little nuts.  I think the last 7 weeks of nothing going on was too much for me.  I probably would have been okay if everything had kept going, but sitting it out for 7 weeks gave me way too much time to think.  And the butcher at the grocery store who helped me find bones for the dogs, was just trying to be kind when he saw the marks all over my chest and throat.  But, his story about his wife's breast cancer returning not once, not twice, but 3 times made the idea of a straight jacket seem comforting.  If that wasn't enough, telling me that she lost her voice compliments of the chemotherapy just sealed the whole deal for me.  I hated to be rude, but I couldn't get away from him fast enough.

I really think that there is some room for improvement in the way that doctors deal with cancer patients post-treatment.  There is a huge disconnect that is challenging even for the toughest warriors.  You go through many months of endless doctors appointments, tests, and treatments, and then all of a sudden, there's nothing to do.  And for them, it's all over, but for the patient, the mind is left to wonder.

Never fear, I am okay today, good even.  My meltdown was something that had to happen.  But now, I am  ready to rock radiation, even if I am a tad nervous.  I will be better once the first treatment is done.  I think the meltdown was good for me- even if my husband thought it was completely insane.  Ironically, I still haven't gotten angry.  Now I am left to wonder if that's going to rear it's ugly head sometime in the near future.

I Must Have Been Meant To Cry Today

I saw the oncologist for the first time today since the end of May.  I don't mind these appointments, other than the fact that they never seem to run on time and I inevitably spend a lot of time sitting in a very cold (teeth chattering kind of cold) room wondering if they forgot about me.  Funny, today just at the exact moment I was wondering that very thing, the nurse comes in and says to me," We need to re-weight you!".  I admit, I was a little confused.  She said that "doc" was concerned because I seemed to have lost a lot of weight since the last time I was there (end of May.)!  This is good news, right?  

I had 15 minutes after being reweighed to laugh over the situation.  All through chemo, I hated being weighed. (And the oncologist knew that I was none to pleased by my chemo pounds!)  Those insane cravings that I had the whole way through chemo were not kind to the number on the scale.  Funny, now I don't mind being jumping on the scale (and letting everyone know exactly how I did it!)

Finally Doc appears.  On the agenda for today's discussion:

I don't really know what my future holds after my Radiation treatment is done.  My pathology reports came back very weakly ER positive. (Actually, the breast surgeon said she considered it ER negative.) What does this mean in cancer speak?  Well, it means that if they give me hormone blockers (more medication) after radiation, it will only kill 4% of any remaining cancer cells.  (Huh?  I thought that radiation was going to do that?  At this point, I am thinking that if chemo, surgery and radiation haven't killed them, they're probably not killable!)  Not very good odds, especially when we start talking side effects.  But, I'm going to hold off on making any quick decisions, and I'll let her explain her case to me when radiation is over.  Just one day at a time.  I've got 33 radiation treatments to get through first.

They're scheduling me for another echo-cardiogram to check and make sure that the Herceptin is not damaging my heart (this always frightens me- just the possibility that it's killing my heart... it kinda freaks me out).  They'll do these every 3 months....  So, by my calculations, that means only 2 more of those.  And then of course, she wants to do another PET Scan immediately following radiation.  Here comes the anxiety the everyone who has been in my shoes has told me about.  I didn't think they would do another one so soon, I just had 1 in May.  I guess that once the results arrive back in my lap, I will feel better for 6 months, until they order the next one, knowing that the sneaky little bastard didn't find his way to some other unsuspecting spot in my body.

My oncologist always sits down, and has a chat with me.  I always feel like she wants to know exactly how I'm feeling and what's going on in this goofy little brain of mine.  Today, we chatted a little bit about my energy levels, my weight loss, and how I was feeling in general.  Of course, she wanted to know what I was doing when I told her how good I was feeling.  

... And so. an hour and a half later, I was on my way to treatment.  I love to work the chemo room.  Everyone's got a story, or something interesting to tell me that will make me smile. And sometimes, it's my job to make someone smile.   Today was no different, although it was a whole new room!  I knew no one!  I did however get winked at by a 90 year old man- he was quite adorable.  His daughter apologized for him and told me he's a dirty old man. Great!   I found a cell phone in the bathroom, and thankfully was able to locate the owner because of the screensaver picture- she seemed quite shocked that I had returned it and not taken it!  I explained that one cell phone was enough, heck, there are days when I would gladly give the one away that I have.  

Then it happened.  It was somewhat inevitable I suppose.  In all the months of going to chemo, I didn't meet any patients that were terminal, stage 4.  But, it happened today, and it took everything I had in me not to cry.  Stupid cancer.  Stupid, dumb breast cancer.  Because it was breast cancer it hit me so hard.  I'm still feeling it 3 hours later.  Good God, I'm fortunate.   And what do you say?  I'm sorry doesn't really seem to cut it. I really didn't know what to say to her, but she was shivering, and shaking all over.  I got her a blanket, actually 2. I didn't have any words for this woman, but I could get her a blanket and cover her up. But I still felt horrible for not knowing what to say to her.  

Then it happened again. What are the odds?  (Apparently, the cards were stacked against me today!) I strike up a conversation with the woman sitting in the chair next to me.  (I had been trying to read, but I was completely unable to concentrate!)  Her husband is asleep in the corner with IV lines running into his arm.  She explains to me that he's got stage 4 mouth cancer that has spread to his throat, lungs, and lymph nodes.  She goes on to tell me that he's so sick from the treatment that he has lost 40 pounds- his only source of food is a feeding tube.   She goes on to tell me that she lost both of her breasts to cancer, part of her lungs, and some of her intestines.  She tells me that she's always been the sick one.  My heart really went out to this beautiful, old couple.  We talked for about 20 minutes.  As I was leaving, she hugged me and told me that I was going to be just fine, and told me to keep on fighting! 

I must have been meant to cry today.