On 6/23/10, at the age of 26, I was diagnosed with invasive ductal carcinoma...Stage 3 Breast Cancer. On 7/25/14, at the age of 30, I met Lolli, a 1 inch tumor in the left side of my brain; I have metastatic disease. On 2/3/17 Lolli became active again and as a result of treatment I have limited mobility in my right leg. I want to share my experiences so that loved ones, friends and others can follow along while my journey continues. Enjoy.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
"look there, it's cancer."
Today began bright and early with a vaginal ultrasound---not exactly morning coffee, but it will do the trick. From there we went to a post-op with the plastic surgeon where my drains were milked, my bandages were taken off, and my back was scratched. My back being scratched has become the most relaxing and satisfying portion of my day. I am itchy, wearing a crazy bra thing with elastic covering the back, have to sleep/sit/spend most of my time leaning against pillows on my back and having my back scratched is pretty awesome.
The plastic surgeon said everything looked fine. We are keeping the drains in because there is still too much liquid coming out for my body to absorb on its own. Tomorrow I am going to meet with my surgeon and am hoping to go over pathology.
Today I began fertility treatments. I had a mini-breakdown thinking about everything I am having to do. It is really not fair--but really what is? Not usually much for most people--so this is the human experience=a chaotic shit storm, with breaks of calm. I am dealing with this storm, I have loved a vast majority of my life, but sometimes when you are in the middle of the storm, all you can smell is the shit surrounding you (me, right now). So cancer just isn't cancer, just as it infiltrates cells and turns them bad, its trickle down effect in other parts of life is tremendous. First my breasts, breastfeeding, nipples, normal sagging of breasts when I am old, blah. Now babies, my uterus, ovaries, and tubes.....grrr.
Scott and I were trying to have a baby before this storm began to thunder through. Many thanks have been said that we were unsuccessful at that particular mission because that would have added a whole other layer to this I don't want to even begin to untangle. Now we are forced to face the possibility that may never be an option. I am doing fertility treatments now, then we will be freezing embryos, storing them for at least 5 years (I have to take the estrogen blocking pill for at least that long). Thanks to Dr. Kerri (my sister) the injections were given this evening--tomorrow I will be giving it a go to test out my injection skills. Treatments include injecting hormones daily--2 shots for 5 days, then 3 shots for the rest of the time. I take a pill that blocks the estrogen that I am injecting (tumors were estrogen positive). I have frequent appointments for blood draws and ultrasounds, then around the 31st I will have my eggs harvested, they will mix in some sperm and shazam--babies. Well not really babies, but a better chance with frozen embryos than we would have after chemo has a few rounds with my eggs.
I feel like things are piling up on each other now. Scott and I are tired, exhausted, on edge and annoyed with everything. And it is early on in this whole thing, cancer treatments should include paid for spa days, or recreation days or something--and they should guarantee that you feel 100% on that day. I also have decided that you should be able to put "cancer" on your resume, both Scott and I--and portions of it for family and friends. This has become a second full time job for Scott, and a full time job for me, on top of my part time job. I have become a planner, ass-kisser, phone operator, grief counselor, writer, researcher (MORE THAN IN GRADUATE SCHOOL), networker, experimenter, and patient...........I won't even get into what Scott has done--he is stronger than I am. I just have to have everything done to me, he has to watch someone he loves go through it, that would be devastating for me. This was dropped on his lap and I am thankful to have my partner in life now be my partner in cancer.
I can't tell if I am feeling drained because of everything going on or the pain medication....I woke up this morning crying, even before my eyes were open. It was early, and my sleep has been sporadic at best, so having to get up and going for the first time since surgery was daunting--but I was crying before my brain could even process that. I have the feeling of weights on my shoulders and bowling balls in my stomach. I was on the verge of two panic attacks, took out my feelings of anger on people close to me, and could barely relax to take a nap. It's icky, I don't like it and I want to shake it...quickly.
I know today is a little dot in the line of my life but it is the hardest I have had in awhile...
Many of us spend our whole lives
Running from feeling
With the mistaken belief
That you cannot bear the pain.
But you have already borne the pain.
What you have not done
Is feel all you are beyond that pain.
-Kahlil Gibran
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Dori, those drains look real familiar!! I know you are doing all the right things, you are so strong and are going to get through this. Don't fret the chemo, its the shits I won't kid you, but its whats going to help you survive this stuff and be around to help someone else who will go through what you are going through. The pre-chemo party is a great idea, you have to find some kind of levity. You are in my thoughts and prayers,keep your chin up and plow forward!! Love you, Madonna
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