What a Week!

Hello again! I'm sorry that I keep slacking off with the upkeep of my blog. I think because I'm feeling better, I blog less. I think back to my days of chemotherapy treatment and remember how this blog served as a lifeline for my mental health. I hope it means I'm mentally stronger now because I feel the need to blog less. And admittedly, the further along and the closer to the finish line I get, the more I dislike talking about cancer. I used to obsessively check the message boards at the Young Survivor Coalition, blog about my cancer adventure, and talk about cancer all the time. I finally feel like my thoughts about cancer are no longer constant.

Anyway, I'll fill you in on what felt like a long, crummy week of doctor's appointments.

On Monday, I had two appointments. The first was with my medical oncologist, Dr. M. This was the first time I'd seen her since surgery, so we were going to talk about my pathology results and prognosis. She seemed disappointed that the pathology report found a lymph node positive for cancer. That means that while her original staging was based on a guess, the chemotherapy did not downstage me. She used a computer program called Adjuvant Online to assess my prognosis for cure. The program isn't really the most accurate picture of my prognosis because I did chemo before surgery, but apparently it's the best and only tool we have. So according to the program, I have a 70% chance of making it another 5 years, disease-free.

As you can imagine, I was kind of down after hearing that. It was the number I had in my head approximately, but hearing it officially was a tad depressing. Yes, 70% is better than anything below 69%. But it still isn't as good as 80%, or 100%. Feeling that three times out of ten I'm dead meat was scary and disheartening. But I have to remember that I am not just a statistic and be happy for the 70%.

It really made me realize how little we still know about cancer. When I was asking questions about this 70% and wondering what was going to happen, my oncologist literally crossed both her fingers and said "we hope." Moving forward from a superstitious finger-crossing and a 70% chance of being alive at 31 makes a girl feel a little uncertain.

I also mentioned an issue I'd had a few weeks before with my peripheral vision. I went out and partied a little in Denver with some friends from high school, and the next day I realized there was a chunk of my vision missing in the periphery. It was freaky! But it came back after I ate and rehydrated. The doctor wanted to be on the safe side and ordered an MRI of my brain. She said it was very, very, very unlikely that anything was wrong, but given the whole cancer thing, we're playing it safe. The brain MRI was scheduled for Wednesday. Scary stuff, but I tried not to worry.

Anyway, I didn't have much time to be glum about it because there was more cancer business to attend to. I had my first consultation with my radiation oncologist on Monday too. This doctor, also a Dr. S., was very nice and very informative. I'd heard so many women complain about their radiation (we call it "rads" for short) oncologist, so I was worried mine would be a brusque jerk too. Instead he was a very friendly, informative and flexible doctor. For the first time in treatment, I felt like I really had control over my treatment and had lots of choices.

We discussed some different options for radiation, but we came to the conclusion that standard external beam radiation would be the best option for me. We talked about the side effects, which primarily are fatigue (what's new?) and skin irritations. We're also talking about radiating my supraclavicular region because apparently the cancerous lymph node had cancer that broke through the capsule. I scheduled a mapping CT for this coming Wednesday, and rads will probably start sometime in the first weeks of March. I hope to be totally finished with active treatment by then end of April.

I had my brain MRI on Wednesday, and by Thursday I got the results. The woman on the phone said, "Your brain looks completely normal." No one has ever said that to me about my brain! That was a nice relief.

Also on Thursday I met with a physical therapist to become educated on lymphedema, or LE. I learned that developing LE is a lifelong risk. I also learned that I shouldn't allow it to run my life. For those of you who don't know what lymphedema is, it's a condition caused by the lymph fluid getting trapped in parts of the body, in my case my right arm, and not being moved out because I have had 9 lymph nodes removed. Any injury, or nothing at all, could cause LE to happen. Essentially, I need to reduce my risk factors, be vigilant in my watch for any swelling, and should something occur, be prompt at treating it.

On Friday, I went to Denver for my follow-up appointment with my surgeon. It was a very brief appointment, and I finally got the bandages taken off my re-excision wound. The wound looked great, and Dr. S. was really please with the progress. I asked her about radiating my supraclavicular region, and she said I shouldn't do it. Dr. S. always has a brighter view on my future, so it's nice to see her after I see Dr. M.

So that was my week. It's such a drag to have to go to all these appointments, especially after having such a long break from them. But... this is my life, and as the Serenity Prayer commands, I must learn to accept the things I cannot change.

Side note: I started writing this a long time ago, and now it's about a week and a half later. But to keep my posts approximately in the time frame of actual life, I'm going to post it as February 21 and write another update.