MRI results are in. The dastardly spot - the one I wanted them to see - is gone. Poof. Disappeared. Explained in my past post this wasn't the most ideal scenario. But I'm glad they said lumpectomy is still an option...we just have to clear it with the radiologist and make sure they think beaming it to high hell with radiation will do the trick with just as must efficacy as if I did a mastectomy.
I think one of the most frustrating parts of this whole ordeal is the assumption (and I'd be the same way, if it weren't me) that after [insert terrible body altering substance or procedure] - that I'm done. Through. Finito.
"Oh, so after this you're done, right?" Someone will say, their face all hopeful, their eyes wide. And I don't know who has it worse, me [who is so not done], or this person, who is only hoping with their heart of hearts that I am.
Good news is yes, I'm done with pseudo phase 1 (pseudo, because fertility treatment was a creepy little interloper and maybe that was really phase I?). Chemo treatments, round one, are done. On to surgery. Then maybe more chemo. Then maybe radiation. Then continue Herceptin (treatment via IV). Then pills for 5-10 years.
Yeah, it's exhausting. If there's anything to takeaway - I'll try to save my boob. There's hope for that little fella (or gal).
One bright spot? Got a new wig piece today! I like calling it a "wig piece" for some reason. Wig sounds like pig. Gross.
See Instagram or, see right here! I may get this same wig in like 8 colors (for anyone interested, it's Jon Renau Kristen).