'Tis the Season

Yep, 42 days till Christmas.  But that's not the season I'm talking about.  As I'm researching and reading about this current stop on this journey, I read another survivor's post who said something about this being just a season in our lives.  It really helped me gain some perspective.  We have been through many "seasons" in the past few year, literally and figuratively.  The holiday season is my favorite...from Halloween to New Year's Eve.  The NICU season...not so favorite.  Thyroid cancer season...also not my favorite.  Breast cancer season...you guessed it...the opposite of favorite.

But I am allowing this season to offer me a chance to reflect, process and identify, when I can, the good in this season.  Recovery from this most recent surgery has been more difficult, but do-able.  Each day, my arm feels less numb.  My armpit is still MIA.  But the drain is also gone!  That was a great day.  However, I am able to spend extra time with Harper.  I had always felt guilty that I only spent a year at home with her, instead of three as I did with Jack.  Tomorrow we are going to the National Christmas Center and I might take her along for my post-op appointment in Baltimore on Thursday so we can visit the aquarium.  I was also able to be the Secret Reader at her pre-school and will be able to attend her Thanksgiving feast!  I mean, who wouldn't appreciate spending time with this little darling?

Although my pathology results did not come back as expected (CLEAN margins in the breast, 5 lymph nodes were negative, 16 were positive = Stage 3C).  (I literally just stopped myself from writing the positive lymph nodes first...shifting my perspective every minute.)  My oncologist was shocked by the results.  Ditto.  But, my surgeon (Dr. David Euhus, Chief of Breast Surgery at Johns Hopkins) had a positive outlook.  Had I not had this surgery, those nodes would still be in my body.  They are gone.  I am so thankful that I followed my instincts and got the PET scan, even if my insurance didn't find it necessary or worth covering.  And now I am no longer doubting whether anti-cancer medication is necessary, nor am I doubting that the most aggresssive option is the right choice.  In fact, I've decided to start anti-cancer medication sooner, rather than later.  I will have my first infusion on Friday, November 17th, at the Ann B. Barshinger Cancer Center (ABBCI) in Lancaster.  I will have 3 additional cycles (every 2 weeks).  The medications are:  adriamycin and cytoxan.  After those 4 cycles, I will receive 4 more cycles of Taxol (every 2 weeks again).

I can't help but connect this season with our NICU season.  Jack was in the NICU for 4 months.  Anti-cancer medication will last approximately 4 months.  We were faced with choices about life-saving medications and procedures that might also destroy.  We are faced with the same choices now.  Life after the NICU was precarious and filled with appointments, medications, and therapies.  I will continue with radiation therapy, physical therapy, and anti-estrogen medications for 10 years.  From the moment Jack was born, I was afraid we would lose him.  Now, in this season, my biggest fear is that my children will lose me.  This thought hits me often, like a punch in the gut.  But LOOK at Jack now.  He is here.  He is thriving.  He survived.  And so will I.  

Our family has been blessed with so much support.   Some of have joined me for walks, others have driven me to appointments.  The meals we have eaten since surgery have been awesome (especially because I did not have to prepare them!).  Thank you all...and keep it up!  Here are two links if you are interested in meals or walks:

Take Them A Meal 

Walking With Heather

What Am I Feeling?

It's only natural for people to ask me HOW I am feeling these days.  And it's only natural for me to typically say that I am feeling fine.  Because I am.  Physically, I feel pretty good.  But the other night, I was reading a blog and the writer mentioned that if you really want to know how someone in treatment is doing, ask them WHAT are they feeling.  That's not as easy to answer with a "fine." 

So what am I feeling these days?  Depends on the day.  Depends on the minute.  There are many moments that I catch myself tearing up.  Especially when I think about things that scare me the most.  Leaving my kids at such a young age, without a mother.  Passing this disease onto Harper.  More cancer now.  Or later.  Those thoughts just hit out of nowhere.  And they hit so hard.  But, I'm working hard.  So hard.  On changing my thought patterns and what I say aloud as well.  I'm actually having a hard time writing this post, because I keep having to stop myself from using words that I'm working on removing from my brain.    Those thoughts above, I hesitate to type.  I don't want to speak them too often or give them power.  When they do hit, I am quick to remind myself that I will be healed.  I will live a long healthy life and watch my children grow.  Lots of anti cancer talk.  I want to have a good attitude.  I want to be positive.  But the reality is that some of this journey will not be. 

What am I feeling?  Mostly anxious about waiting for more surgery.  Anxious that the lymph node will come back positive.  (But it won't. Right?)  It's hard being in between parts of treatment.  There's not much I can be doing at the moment, but re-orienting my thoughts and trying to exercise and spend as much time with my kids and my family as I can.  Anxious that my surgeon offered to also place my port during this next surgery.  Something about having more than one procedure at a time makes me nervous.  But it also seems like the most logical choice.  But I'm feeling scared. 

I am also feeling happy.  I enjoy my job.  And spending time with my own kiddos is always fun.  I explained to Jack tonight that Mommy has a wig appointment tomorrow.  (Image Recovery Center appointment, actually.)  He seemed a little concerned at first, but assured me it would grow back fast.  He's 7 and super intuitive, so I share bits and pieces of my treatment with him when the moment allows.  We had been talking about the possibility of him wearing a wig for Halloween. 

I'm also feeling triggered.  So much of this journey parallels our journey with Jack's early arrival.  From making choices about life-sustaining, but also toxic medications to making sure that family understands that they need to keep their distance if ill during my anti-cancer medication cycles.    Jack spent exactly 16 weeks in the NICU.  My anti-cancer cycles should take 16 weeks.  If he can do it, I can to. 

Change of Plans

The healing, anti-cancer plan has changed.  Again.  From the start of this journey, it was to be an "easy" lumpectomy, then radiation and finally a hormone suppressing medication for 5 years.  Not so much anymore.  My original diagnosis was:  stage 1, grade 2, Invasive Ductal Carcinoma (IDC), ER+/PR+/HER2-, BRCA negative.  After a 2nd opinion, an MRI, another MRI with 2 biopsies and finally a lumpectomy (sometimes called a partial mastectomy) with a sentinel node biopsy, my diagnosis is now:  Stage 2, Grade 3, IDC, ER+/PR+/HER2-, BRCA negative, with 2 out of 3 lymph nodes positive for cancer.  I also had cancer in the lymphatic channels.  So the anti cancer medication discussions began (now on the healing timeline after surgery, but before radiation and medication).  I gained an oncologist (or 2), a few new nurse navigators and an appointment at the Image Recovery Center.  I also completed all the pre-chemo tests:  an echo (because one of the medications can be toxic to the heart and cause cardiomyopathy), a port-consult (for a surgically placed power port to infuse the anti cancer medication), and a PET scan (that was not covered by insurance).  

And the plan changed again.  While my PET scan showed no cancer in other areas of my body, it did show some "activity" in a lymph node in my right armpit (same as the cancer side).  My oncologist, surgeon and radiation oncologist at Hopkins all feel that more surgery is necessary.  This surgery is an axillary node dissection.    A little more invasive, a little longer recovery.  And a drain.  Yuck.  And it delays anti cancer medication.  My oncologists want it to begin within 3 months of surgery.  Which means, it will start in the 2-3 week recovery time after this next surgery.  

I will be given 3 anti cancer medications.  

Adriamyacin + Cytoxan every 2 weeks for 4 cycles.

Taxol every 2 weeks for 4 cycles.  

My brain cannot process any more than ALL of this at the moment.  Nothing more to say today.  

Where do I begin?

This journey started months ago...years ago, if we are getting technical.  I'll start with my blog title.  A few weeks ago, I had lunch with my great aunt (on my dad's side) who has also been diagnosed and healed from breast cancer.  Unlike me, she is very secure in her faith and knows that Jesus has healed her.  I'm a little more skeptical, but my cousin (her daughter) gave me a book to read during this journey called 365 Days of Healing.    I've been trying to read it daily and the gist I'm getting so far is what I say or think affects my healing.  So I've decided to attempt to stop saying, in my head and otherwise, phrases like "I have breast cancer."  This is difficult for me, especially considering this isn't my first rodeo (thyroid cancer last year and skin cancer 14 years ago).  But I'm working on it.  I am not naive enough to think that this journey will be easy, but I'm hoping a shift in perspective will help.  I mean, no matter your faith, who doesn't want to be healed?  Who doesn't want to do everything they can to be healed?  I'm on the healing bandwagon.  That's for sure. 

So between the things I am learning and internalizing from the book and the multiple appointments I have had in the past few months, I started to think that I needed to start writing again.  I wrote a lot when my son was born at 28 weeks and it was a very healing process for me.  I wanted a catchy title.  And I didn't want it to say cancer.  Yet, here we are with "Anti Cancer Meditations."  Which is really ironic, because I know nothing about meditations.  Or maybe I do.  Hold on...let me Google it. 

Never mind, not so ironic.  I do know a thing or two about meditation.  I tend to express my considered thoughts on lots of subjects!  Ha!  Anyway...I was looking at a list of upcoming appointments, knowing that I had an echocardiogram scheduled, along with a port consult, a PET scan and chemo education.  But the title for my chemo education was unexpected and a little insightful...

Huh, anti cancer medication.  But everyone calls it chemo.  But I like the sound of anti cancer medication much better than I do chemo.    The connotation I get from chemo is feeling sick, losing hair, tired, etc.  And yes, those things may all happen. My train of thought eventually gets to the final destination...to the purpose of chemo...to kill cancer cells, but my initial feelings are of still of sickness and side effects.  So the phrase "anti cancer medication" is really changing my perspective.  For me, the connotation of anti cancer medication is one that starts with the positive...killing cancer cells.  Cancer...I'm against it (inside family joke).  When I hear anti cancer medication, my perspective changes to one of healing.  So, that's what you'll get from me now.  I hope.  I'm still a work-in-progress.  Still growing from all of this.

Anti Cancer.  Healing.  Meditations.