Chemo

I had a CT Scan to check the status of my tumors and to see if the chemo is working. The good news is that there are no new tumors showing up. The bad news is that the tumors I have are slightly bigger than they were a month ago, so the chemo is not working at least not well enough). So...moving on to the next chemo. I start the new one next Thursday.

CT Scan

In just over 12 hours I will be having a CT Scan to check the status of my cancer. The scan will be of my lungs, pelvis, and some other body part that I can't remember. The scans themselves are not too bad, I just have to lay there and stay still, but the waiting for the result is torture. I will see my oncologist on Wed. afternoon instead of waiting for a phone call, but that means waiting longer for the results. **sigh**

The Good, the Bad, and The Ugly

Today has certainly been a mixed bag.

For the good: it was a beautiful day in Seattle. I met up with a friend and got to meet his new pug Oscar. So cute! Then after that I met up with another friend and we explored a neighborhood I rarely visit, looking a cute shops, walking down the street, enjoying the weather, and ending with coffee and treats at Starbucks. It was a nice ending to my chemo day, which brings me to the bad:

Chemo days are by their nature bad. Pushing good ol' fashion poison through the veins is just never a good time. I got up early (too early for me) to go to chemo. Everything went fine--my counts looks good, I got my dose, etc. I have one more dose (next Thursday for this round). Then I'll have another scan to see if the chemo is working. I hate getting scans and the anxiety of waiting to hear the results. When I see my oncologist next week I'll ask about the possible outcomes and what we will do with each.

Then I went to cancer support group. I've been going to this group for 2 weeks now, and I don't think that it's for me. I committed to 3 weeks, so I'll go again next week, but I don't know if I'll continue. I'm just not sure it is for me.

And for the ugly: It's 3:30 am and I can't sleep. Thank you very much chemo and the pre-treatment steroids. I'm alone--an even bigger thank you to CF! I'm exhausted and all I want to do is sleep. I've tried. I took my sleeping pill. I did my sleep meditation. I waited. Nothing.

Right now I have the urge to deep clean my carpets, but I'm not sure that my downstairs neighbors would welcome that. I can't be sure that they can hear me (I rarely hear anything from my upstairs neighbors), but I don't want to risk it. So, I'm stuck with more quiet activities like blogging and shopping online.

The Last Year

I have been exhausted--physically, mentally, and emotionally--lately. I am struggling because I am so used to be able to do "everything" and find that now it takes a lot of effort just to get out of bed. For this, I beat myself up. I know that I shouldn't, but it is so hard for me to be gentle and forgiving with myself. I'm working on it, but it goes against my nature. I want to be Super Woman.

Yesterday when I was talking to a friend I made a statement about all that my body has been through this past year and how, considering that, it makes sense that I am tired. After the conversation, I really let that sink in. If I just look at the physical things that have happened in the past year, I am actually doing really well. Not to mention, the emotional and mental stresses. In the past year this is what has happened:

March 16th, 2011: Found a painful lump in my breast when I bumped into something.

March 17: Called to report lump, made appointment for when I returned from vacation.

March 31: Examination by nurse, confirming lump and referring me for an ultrasound

April 8: Mammogram and ultrasound. Told that it was likely a cyst and was scheduled for needle aspiration

April 12: Attempted aspiration-finding no fluid. Biopsy of lump taken

April 13: Diagnosed with breast cancer

April 18: Consultation with breast surgeon, reviewed pathology, referred to oncologist

April 19: Appointment with genetic counselor

April 26: Appointment with medical oncologist

April 28: Echocardiogram

May 2: PET Scan

May 3: Surgery to place port-a-cath

May 4: Start of hormone shots for egg harvest

May 4-16: Daily shots, blood draws and ultrasounds every other day

May 9: Biopsy

May 16: Egg retrieval

May 19: Bone Scan

May 23: Chemo (Taxol and study drug)

May 31: Chemo (Taxol and study drug)

June 6: Chemo (Taxol and study drug)

June 9: Scans and biopsy

June 13: Echo

June 13: Chemo (AC #1)

June 27: Chemo (AC #2)

July 11: Chemo (AC#3)

July 14: MRI (Brain)

July 21: Consult with breast surgeon

July 25: Chemo (AC #4)

August 16: Bilateral Mastectomy

September 2: Bone Scan

September 9: MRI

October 6: Radiation planning

October 11-November 30: Radiation (5 days per week), total of 35 treatments. Plus chemo (oral xeloda).

Nov 10: Chemo (5FU)

Nov 17: Chemo (5FU)

Nov 23: Chemo cancelled because counts too low

Jan 20: MRI

Jan 30: PET, CT, MRI

Feb 2: Chemo (navelbine)

Feb 9: Chemo (navelbine)

Feb 16: Chemo (navelbine)

Feb 27: CT Scan

Mar 1: Chemo (navelbine)

This list does not include several (sometimes 3 times per week) physical therapy appointments, blood draws, appointments to deal with fluid post-surgery, or mental health appointments. My oncologist said that my body hasn't had time to recover from the first set of chemo. And yet, the chemo continues.

I need to remember this and be more forgiving of myself. But how does one do that? How does one accept that life is no longer what you thought it would be and that you may be forever changed and unable to do what you used to do? My heart does not want to accept this. But my body doesn't seem to be giving me much of a choice right now.

Layers of Grief

There are so many layers of grief that I am currently wading through. Not just the obvious grief over the loss of my husband, but loss related to my cancer diagnosis, my career, and the dreams that I had for my future.

The grief over my husband is still fresh and there is a lot that I still have to work through. It has been 16 months since he died, but in a lot of ways it seems like it was just yesterday. There are so many things about him that I miss. I miss the way that he used to tuck strands of my hair behind my ear, how he always wanted to hold hands, how he would leave love notes for me around the house, and how we would always call just to check in on me. I met him when I was 19 and we had a connection that many people never find. We loved each other genuinely and fully. Our relationship was not perfect, we were both strong-willed and opinionated and we had some epic fights. But what we had was real.

And then it was gone. We knew that he would likely die at a younger age. He had cystic fibrosis and his health started to go downhill. But even with that knowledge, his death was still a shock--in some ways, it still is. I still wake up some mornings and reach out to touch him only to be reminded that he is gone. I still want to call him and tell him about something that happened. This doesn't happen as often as before, but it still does, and each time it's like the wound is reopened.

I'm not sure when I am going to be "done" with this grief process, but it feels like that is far off. So much has happened in the past 16 months that has required my attention that I feel like grieving has been postponed to some extent. In other ways, the grief has been accentuated by what is going on. Along with the loss of the person, you lose the life that you had imagined together. Although Gess had CF, we still had hope that he would beat the odds and we would have a long life together. We had dreams of trips, children, a house, and growing old together. We had so many things that we wanted to do together and with his death, all of those dreams died too.

The cancer diagnosis--especially the stage IV diagnosis--has added another big blow. I am grieving the loss of my health and my future health. There were so many things that I wanted to do and now those things aren't possible. I even went through the expense and difficult of having my eggs harvested in case I could try to have children again someday. Now, I will never be cured of this cancer and will never have children. I will never be a mother. I will never feel a baby kick inside me. At the time I harvested the eggs because I couldn't handle another loss, but that loss is real now.

I also have had big physrical losses. DDs to be exact. Nearly 10 pounds worth of flesh amputated from my body. I've heard people say "they 're just boobs," but clearly those people have never lost theirs. I also lost my hair, which was a big part of my physical identity. I feel mutilated and deformed. I feel ugly. And the one person who loved me no matter what is gone. Gess loved me and he would have loved me even without my boobs. I thought that I would get reconstruction and at least get a nice new set out of this cancer crap. But stage IV has changed that. If I'm going to die soon, it doesn't make sense to go through the numerous difficult surgeries. So, I'll live out the rest of my life without breasts.

I can't believe that I am going to die in the next few years. I will be dead. Gone. Just a memory. And I worry that I will have not left any sort of legacy. I grieve over what I could have done and how I could have made a difference.

This cancer diagnosis has also ruined my chances of having a successful career. I planned to take just a bit of time off to deal with all of these issues and then make a career move--possibly teaching or getting a PhD. But now those doors are closed. I will likely never practice law again. That is a sobering thought. I worked hard to get my law degree and to make my place in the profession. I care about the law and had dreams of making a difference and helping others. Now those dreams are gone. All of the hard work down the drain.

And these are just some of the issues that I am trying to navigate. Some days, like today, the grief is overwhelming. On other days, I feel like I can manage. But the days are hard and I feel like I can't get my head above water for any significant period of time.

Bucket List

Well, I'm working on my bucket list...I got to cross "San Fran" off recently. What else should I add?

• Visit France
• Visit Hawaii
• Take a girls' trip
• Writing my memoir
• Write a novel
• Finish a marathon
• Quilt for Grandma
• Record song for grandma
• Swim for 1 mile
• Go white water rafting
• Learn to surf
• See the grand canyon
• Alaskan Cruise
• Learn French
• Get a CF Patient Advisory Group started at UW

I realize that some of these are pretty physical so I am not sure if they are actually doable for me, but I'm going to keep them there and see! Hawaii and a girls' trip are on the horizon.