Before I forget: I made two new info pages, Coping & Surgery Decisions. If you know anyone who could use them, feel free to send them over!
Back to the latest.
So...party's over. I've had a relaxing, calming, rejuvenating, back-to-normal 3-week break from surgery and treatment. But yesterday, my oncologist confirmed I'll be returning to the chemo chair, or bed, which I prefer. Not being picky or anything. I'd also prefer NOT TO HAVE TO DO MORE CHEMO.
I told everyone under the sun that I wasn't done enduring the disgusting drugs; that having chemo on the "backend" (as the docs call it) was all part of the original plan. There had been, from day one, only a small chance of me skipping it. Truthfully? I got my damn hopes up. I thought since they'd achieved clean margins and my node was clean as a whistle that maybe, just maybe, I could go right into radiation and I could be done with everything by Christmas. A Christmas Miracle! When my oncologist told me this was not the case, I cried a little in front of him, for the first time.
Tears don't flow too easily at Dana-Farber, because you feel so cared for and secure in their confidence and experience. My tears usually come on the ride home, when the realism hits me, when I start to worry about being too sick to go into work after already having had a break, or I think of losing the hair on my head again that had just started growing back to the point I could see color.
Thankfully, this time the tears didn't last too long because I realized, Fine. If we need this last blast of assurance that they're wiping this out of me, then I'll do it. And I won't ever have to look back and think: maybe I should have had more...just to be sure...
I am grateful it's 8 weeks instead of 12. It's four dose-dense treatments instead of 12 in a row, like last time. I'll get a week to recover in between treatments. These drugs (AC) cause more nausea, so I will need to stay on top of that, and I've been told to "get ready to sleep" while at the same time, "you won't be able to sleep from the steroids." Sweet.
Huge thank you to a couple friends who gave me gift cards to Green Light; I will be drinking ginger-infused juices and smoothies like it's going out of style.
What I'm not feeling is desolation, or hopelessness, or too much anxiety, which I've been swallowed by in the Past. Now, it's a resolve to get through the next 2 months, then a 3-week break, and then radiation through early January.
Then, then, 2017 is going to be my year. I just know it.