Episode 25: Conclusion

"It's happy, scary, and weird all at the same time." - Roxanne

Yes, it is.

Happy Part  Last Thursday, Neil and I met with the oncologist for the second time since January.* We were curious as to whether or not there would be any new information. There was one bit of news. A recent CT scan looking for blood clots in my heart and lungs showed that the cancer had not moved to my heart or lungs. And, thankfully, there are no blood clots anywhere including arms and legs. The really good news, however, was that the doctor stressed the past-tense nature of my condition. She emphasized, "You had cancer." It is in the past. And "You are cancer free. It is highly likely that the surgery got everything." This is what I have been telling people all along but it's nice to hear it from a doctor. I texted my parents and daughters immediately so they could enjoy the good news as well. I knew that they really needed a break from all the worry. A lady (my age) here at the hotel told me that she was 18 when her mother was diagnosed with breast cancer and that it was the scariest thing she'd ever known. My own daughters are 15 & 17 and I know this has been horrible for them. I've always taken my mother for granted (a fault that I can only attribute to her incredible patience) but the thought that a person could lose a mother in their young years brings tears to the eyes. (Oh, stink, where's the tissue?) ...  Quick, back to Happy. Thanks, Pharrell!  I also thought you might find the following link interesting: Due to research, breast cancer survival rates have improved drastically. Now almost 90% of those who experience ‪#‎BreastCancer‬ will survive!  https://www.facebook.com/breastcancersocietyofcanada?fref=nf

Scary Part  Now that I've had a week to digest the following information it's not that scary anymore but I was asked, "If the above is true then why the need for on-going treatment?" That's the wildness of breast cancer. Breast cancer doesn't play by rules. I was diagnosed with two cancers, one of which was aggressive and spreading into my lymph nodes. A modified radical mastectomy removed my left breast which removed the two lumps and the spreading cancer from my left breast. Also, 20 lymph nodes were removed from under my left arm, eight of which were cancerous (don't worry, we have hundreds Number of Lymph Nodes).** We can be fairly certain that everything was caught. But, ultra-sounds and CT scans don't see everything. It is possible for cancer cells to remain very small and escape detection. So at this point, post-surgery, everything becomes a game of statistics. Women in this situation who do not follow through with treatment have a fairly high chance of recurrence: that is the cancer comes back. Women who go through the whole process of surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation substantially drop the risk of recurrence.*** So even though I've been told to claim the status of being Cancer-free, I still do every preventive measure possible. (Perhaps a good comparison would be that even though I've never been hit by a car, I'll still walk on the sidewalk just so I can lower the odds.)

Further, my cancer was identified as Estrogen Receptor positive. This means that my little critters like estrogen. It helps them grow. Everyone produces estrogen until they die and if there are any cancer cells in me escaping detection at this point, they could grow with the help of my own estrogen. However, there is a treatment for that. It's called Tamoxifen and comes in the form of a little pill. Tamoxifen acts like estrogen and leads cancer cells to believe that they are getting an estrogen treat but, instead of helping the cancer cells to grow, the tamoxifen wraps itself around the cell and blocks it from receiving any real estrogen. I will be taking a Tamoxifen pill every day for the next five years. At that time, I will be re-evaluated and likely given another five year term of Tamoxifen. After ten years of Tamoxifen, I might be switched to an aromatase inhibitor but I'll look that up later. Right now, my head is full.

Weird Part It's been almost one year since this adventure started and I have yet to stop and catch my breath. I never ever would have dreamed that I could be in this situation and it's still a bit un-nerving to think about. It's been a whirlwind of learning, thinking, crying, withdrawing, and reaching out (to give and to receive). It's a weird feeling because I have to adjust. I'm not the same person I used to be. That is humbling because I thought I was pretty cool before but I had a lot to learn about myself and being a better person. On the one hand, I'm not as patient as I used to be over lifes minor aches and pains. "You stubbed your toe. Oh, what a shame. i.e. Get over it." But, on the other hand, I have a lot more empathy for the big stuff. For example, the other day I was too weak to walk from my radiation appointment to the pharmacy (both in the hospital) so I asked for a wheelchair and a porter to deliver me. It was kind of fun but also an eye opener. Now, when I see someone in a wheelchair I don't see someone who is weak. I see someone who has a story and probably a humdinger of a story at that. I also have a lot more empathy for old people (oops, the elderly) now. I am definitely younger than almost everybody here by quite a bit but, even still, I understand better the frailty that comes with age. We didn't start out looking like this. It's also weird because I have become an "expert" on an experience that I never asked for. People are asking me if there's "life after chemotherapy". It's a weird but nice feeling to be able to say, "Yes, there is. Don't give up. It does get better. It gets pretty low but you will come back up again."

Dear Reader,

My adventure and this blog have completed their course. I want to sincerely thank you for the time that you have given me. Your support has been such an encouragement through a dark year. Being able to put my thoughts and feelings into read-able explanations has helped me to process this experience. And knowing that my words have been a help or a pleasure for you is extremely gratifying. Thank you.

Bless you,

Dawn

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* For the sake of accuracy, I feel that I must explain that it wasn't actually the oncologist I met but rather his representative, another doctor. Also, it might seem that having only two meetings from January to September isn't good but, in fact, there was a whole team of doctors and nurses looking after me regularly so I feel very well cared for.

** In case you're curious, I do still have pain and discomfort from the surgery, especially under my arm. Sometimes people ask so yes, it's there.

*** I am deliberately leaving out percentages and time frames rather than risk making a mistake. For real figures, please consult a Physician or reputable web-site.