The Milestone

Well friends, it's finally come. Five years ago today, after months of chemo treatments, I underwent surgery to have what remained of my cancer removed.

A thumb's up in vacuum bag couture

This is a huge, huge occasion! Recurrence rates plummet once you hit that 5 year mark. (I used to know all the stats, but they've escaped my mind over time.) I'm smiling just as big as you see in the picture above, but this time it's not forced. 😉

So, catching up on things...

• As you might have seen in my previous post or on my Facebook page a while ago, I visited my surgical oncologist's office at Froedtert in February and was released from their treatment. Yay! Now I only have to have one doctor's visit a year instead of two.

• I've finally beaten the issue I was having with weight loss. I have officially lost 23 pounds since the beginning of the year. My secret? I honestly don't know. I cut out almost all alcohol consumption, stopped eating quite as much during the day at work, and changed up my exercise routine, and it just started happening. So, I keep doing what I've been doing and the pounds slowly keep disappearing.

• I visited my medical oncologist (previously in Elkhorn, now at St. Luke's in Milwaukee) a couple of weeks ago for my official five year follow up. My numbers looked great. We made the decision to keep going on my Tamoxifen for another few years. Since I have no major side effects from it, I would rather have the peace of mind knowing that it's there working for me. The doctor agreed - especially since I'm so "young." He was also astonished by and happy about my weight loss since it's really hard for people on tamoxifen to lose weight. I love getting kudos from doctors. I'll be seeing him once a year for the next 5 years.

• I do have one issue created by my weight loss... because one of the first places I tend to lose weight is in my breasts (I know, totally not fair), I'm once again two different cup sizes. This is what happens when one is fat and the other is silicone. *sigh*  So, once I'm done losing weight, I'm going to have to get in contact with my plastic surgeon again and see what my options are and if possibly going from implant to natural flap would remedy the problem if I lose/gain any more weight down the road. Not that I want to go through another surgery. I've kind of had my fill of those.

• My anxiety still shows up from time to time when it comes to the c-word. I still have the words "breast cancer" blocked from my Twitter timeline. I change the station whenever an ad for cancer care comes on the radio. I still want nothing to do with New Year's Day (the day I found out). That might never go away. February 22nd (head shaving day) is still remembered, but not dwelled upon, and of course July 30th will always be a day that is silently celebrated.

So, that's where I am. I was hoping to mark today with a quiet day at home alone, but circumstances did not work in my favor for that to happen. I'll take a rain check. I need a day to reflect, focus on how far I've come and then turn to the future. I'm not sure how I should be feeling about things now...or if there is a right or wrong way to feel. Part of me wants to move forward, never looking back, pretending it never happened. Another part wants to take my experience and turn it into something helpful. A foundation or volunteer organization or something. Maybe down the road I'll do something like that. Right now, I know that this experience has changed me for the better and I hope that maybe that fact in itself will be useful for others.

And that's where I'm going to leave it. Thank you all for being there for the ride - the ups and the downs, the times of self-pity, the bits of craziness, the good, the bad and the bald. I appreciate you all more than you know. 

Now it's time to pack the blog away again...

The Hallway

A little over 5 years ago, I walked down this hallway for the first time. I remember it vividly - the dread, the fear, how heavy my body felt. I remember holding Chris' hand tightly as he helped me keep moving forward, because what I really wanted to do was run away. I was afraid of what my prognosis was, afraid of what the doctor would tell me, how hard things would be. It was one of the most difficult moments of my life.

Yesterday, I walked down this hallway for what I hope is the last time. After another clear mammogram and physical exam, I was released. As the NP finished with me she said with a grin, "I hope we never see you again." The feeling is mutual.

I am so thankful for all of the staff that I encountered at the Cancer Center at Froedtert & Medical College. The doctors, nurse practitioners, nurses, aides, and even the scheduling staff, are all top notch - not only for their knowledge and skill, but also their humanity. I wish that none of you ever have to deal with that terrible C-word, but if you do, I would recommend them in a heartbeat.

But for me - I'll be happy to never see them again.

The Roller Coaster

I had my recurring 6-month appointment in Milwaukee yesterday, which included my annual mammogram and feeling-up by a trained medical professional. All is well. Apparently I have awesome breasts though. My real one is fatty and makes mammograms easy to read. (I guess that's a compliment?) My fake one looks amazing, the scars are healing so much faster than she's seen before and my tattoo is awesome. So - yeah, great boobs, but not for the same reasons they'd get compliments when I was younger. Ah well - you take what you can get.

Anyway, these appointments have become somewhat anxiety-inducing. I found myself on edge for a couple of days ahead of time. The What If monster comes back. I feel fine, but what if they feel something in my lymph nodes? What if they hear something in my lungs? What if I've been feeling great, but it's all a lie and I'm really riddled with cancer like Wade Wilson before he did the whole mutation thing to become Deadpool? (Sorry, I watched the movie again last night.)

The anxious brain is a funny thing. Sometimes it makes me want to cancel the appointment because obviously I'm still fine and don't need to waste my time. Sometimes it makes me want to cancel the appointment because if there is something wrong, I don't want to know about it and want to live in a world of "ignorance is bliss." Sometimes I want to make the appointment even sooner so I can go and make sure I'm fine and move on with another 6 months of my life. See how backwards all of that is? I resign myself to just go to the appointments as scheduled like a big girl because I'm most likely being a dumbass.

So I did. Walking into the Cancer Center brings up a lot of different emotions. First, as I step off of the elevator and walk toward the Breast Center, I flash back to the first time I walked that hall with Chris, and the complete fear that I was feeling. The heaviness, the desire to turn back around and run out of that building, the way I clung to him because he was literally keeping me moving forward. It seems so fresh - like it was only a week ago...

Once I get to the center and check in, that feeling goes away. It's just another appointment - for a little while. When I get to the mammogram waiting room, full of other women, I usually get strange looks because I'm one of the youngest people in there. Then they take me back and I get the history questions, which I sometimes have difficulty remembering. It feels like it was so long ago...

Then I wait. I wait for results. I wait for my follow up appointment with the surgical oncologist's nurse practitioner. I wait with women who are now going through what I did those years ago. I see where I was then and where I am now, and I'm thankful. I calm myself and try to help others by reciting mantras in my head. It helps.

Then I get called back for my appointment, answer the same questions I'm asked every 6 months (an improvement over weekly questioning), and wait again for the NP. A little more anxiety of what she might find, but the first thing she says when she enters is that everything is fine. Relief. A little more anxiety when she feels my lymph nodes. Again, everything is fine. More relief.

It's such a roller coaster. It's been three and a half years since my surgery. A year and a half more before my appointments spread out to only once a year, and I hit that exciting 5 year mark. I've gone through phases of being completely fine and at ease with what happened and feeling victorious, then having to mute the word "cancer" on Twitter because I didn't want to be reminded, and everything in-between over these past years. It will be interesting to see where my brain is when I hit that point.

2 Years

Well, today marks 2 years post-mastectomy, therefore 2 years "cancer-free", so I thought I'd check in again. It's been a beautiful day. I got up, spent a little time with the hubby, went for my morning run, meditated, spent some time talking with the kid, ran a few errands, and now I'm sitting on our balcony with the breeze blowing through my hair trying to remember everything that's been happening over the past year. Here we go...

Updates:

• The lack of weight loss is still a biggie. I've started running a couple of miles 6 mornings a week before work and hit the gym twice a week. I've also cut my portion sizes waaay down, so I'm now very slowly starting to lose weight. So frustrating, but I'm not giving up because I'm not happy at this weight. 

• I was finally able to listen to Happy a couple of weeks ago without feeling the need to vomit. Hey - Progress!
• My last doctor's appointments went extremely well. I'm at the point now where I am cutting back on doctor's visits. Where I used to see them every three months, I'm now seeing them every 6. Yay! Plus, instead of seeing my surgeon I'll be seeing a nurse practitioner because I'm doing so well. 
• The hot flashes are still there, but I'm basically so used to them now I hardly notice. What a great thing to be used to. 

• I still get odd pains here and there where for a second, my mind goes to bad places, but I'm pretty sure they're either phantom pains or nerves healing. The fear passes quickly.
• I was finally able to put everything I went through to some good use. One of my co-workers was diagnosed this year and I was able to help her understand the steps and the tests that they'd have to do. Fortunately, she didn't have to go through chemo, but she did have a double mastectomy. I'm glad I could be there for her - I hope it helped.
• Chemo brain - still there. I talked to my oncologist about it and he felt so bad for me that the only effects I still seem to be having are the ones that they can't seem to figure out. He said that they're pretty sure chemo brain is actually caused by hormones because even those who were on tamoxifen and never had chemo still feel the absent-mindedness of chemo brain. It's frustrating having to make lists all the time so I don't forget things, or having to search for words while I'm speaking. I sound completely stupid sometimes, but there's nothing I can really do about it. It supposedly goes away in time, but I'm on this stuff for at least 3 more years.

That's all I can think of for now. I'm sure there's more, but I'm just so content...  If you have any questions for me, feel free to leave them in the comments and I'll be more than happy to answer. Thanks to you all for being there - you're an amazing group of people.

Two years ago, today.

Current status.

Psssst - just a quick update

Okay, dusting this ol' blog off just once since it's a bit of a momentous occasion. The final component of my reconstruction is complete. I just got my tattoo!

*Sigh* It had to be done.

It only took about 45 minutes or so and I haven't actually seen it yet because it's all bandaged up, but it's there. Didn't really hurt either. (Bonus when your nerves are gone - though there were times where I'm like, "Oh! I seem to have a nerve there! That's not the most pleasant sensation in the world.")

I am dooooone! Well, other than my follow up appointments with my doctors every three freaking months, but no more procedures anyway. Huzzah! 

Let's see - what else can I go into about 2015? 

July 30 marked my one-year anniversary. Woohoo! It was celebrated with bagels at work, a beverage at home, and silent sobbing in bed. Eh - it was a bit emotional. 

Life post-cancer has been okay. I heard many times that life after breast cancer is actually even harder. I never understood that until now. There's paranoia that you have to live with, and when you are easily affected by suggestion, it can make things worse. How do I explain? Oh, the what-if monster! That asshole is constantly around. I think I feel a lymph node and I freak. I have tiny pains in my neck and I freak. I cough and I freak. This does dissipate with time, but time isn't moving as fast as I would like it to in this case. 

It doesn't help that my surgeon scolded me for not having radiation when I saw her back in February. (She seemed to have forgotten that she was recommending me for a clinical trial where I had a 50/50 chance of not getting it anyway.) I was feeling good about things and then she set me into instant anxiety mode. I couldn't sleep for days. I couldn't remember why I had made the decision I did and was sure I had written my own death sentence. Thankfully, after talking to my oncologist, he reassured me that I had gotten the information first, made an informed decision, and it was nothing to lose sleep over. "People tend to throw everything they can at it without worrying about the side effects, and is it really worth it? Who knows what the standard of care in cases like yours will be down the road. I really think you're going to be fine, and if not, we deal with it then." Phew! I love this guy. (I just saw my surgeon again today and she was more pleasant...thankfully.)

Medical bills are another bummer for 2015. We're doing what we can, but what we can isn't what they want. It just makes no sense. I get through this crap and I can't even enjoy life as much as I'd like to because we don't have the money needed since we have to pay for me getting through the crap. It's a circle of ick! Oh, and my insurance decided that the genetic testing I had done is still considered "experimental" so they're not going to pay for it. No biggie - it only cost $7500.

My oncologist was unfortunately correct about weight loss while on tamoxifen. It's almost impossible. I hate it. I feel so fat and old. I'm exercising at the spa at work a couple of times a week, run when the weather allows on the weekends, and cut out almost all refined sugars (I've never eaten so many leafy greens in my life!), but I've only dropped 5 pounds. Nowhere near the 20 I'm hoping to get rid of. Today I learned I have to cut my calories basically in half in order to make any progress. This should be fun. Damn you, metabolism of a 70-year-old!!

I'm still trying to figure out what to do with all of this. I keep trying to think of my "big thing" to help other people, but the ideas I come up with aren't feasible. This crap I went through will not be for nothing, dammit! 

So, yeah, that's where I am now. I know it doesn't sound that great, but this stuff just comes up every once in a while. For the most part, it's life as normal. Work, family, trying to have fun, and all that jazz.

Thanks again for everything. Y'all are the best!  

Okay, blog...back to the vault!

Bye Bye Box of Sorrow...and Blog

We've had a shoebox in our dining room that we've dubbed the Box of Sorrow. Inside it, you'll find all of the get well cards I received, deflated balloons from my hospital stay, and other various mementos and keepsakes from the carcinoma adventure. Today, I moved it into our closet.

It's been a full year now since I received my diagnosis. I am officially a "survivor" as opposed to a patient. I took the day off on Friday so that I could spend it with my family instead of reliving the prior year's events minute by minute - I'm breaking the cycle. Being in a new year, I'm ready to put it behind me and move on, new and improving.

Okay, I know I'll never put it behind me completely, that's impossible, but it's not going to be the center of my existence. My life won't revolve around treatments and doctor's appointments. What it will revolve around is improvements...for myself, my family, and everyone I can possibly do anything for. I have a few minor side effects from the medication I'll be on for the next 5 years, but it's not really enough to dwell on or center my life around. I'm done being the chick with carcinoma, at least for now...hopefully forever. As my oncologist said, I'm probably cured, but if not and it comes back, we'll deal with it then.

For that reason, this blog is being put away as well. Not banished to the closet, but it's served its purpose and is going to be put to rest. I may pull it out and share it if I think it would benefit someone, but otherwise I'll let it collect dust in the forgotten spaces of the internet.

Thank you all for following me this year and for being so incredibly supportive. I'm usually someone who wants to handle things on my own, but you, my friends, helped me tremendously. I hope the things I wrote here helped you understand things and get you into my head a little bit...hopefully not too much. 😉

I honestly can't thank you enough. For everything.

All the best,
Rebecca

P.S. Keep an eye on Facebook in the coming weeks. I've got some big birthday plans.

Annnnnd - Exhale

After a whole day of watching the clock at work and an hour of sitting in the exam room waiting for my oncologist who was running terribly behind, I was finally greeted with the news:

Well you had your scans and everything came out okay...

...and then he kept going on about something, but all I could say was, "Wait, back up. What was that?"

The one spot on my lung is exactly the same as it was just about a year ago. If it had been cancerous, it would have changed size one way or another. But it's exactly the same. They'll be checking it again in another year. Well, it was supposed to be every six months, but the doc said because it's so small (4mm) and insignificant, they'd put it off for another year. Yay! I think I'm going to push it back to the following January though so I can bypass the extra unneeded holiday-time stress.

Everything looks great. Well, except for my weight, which he didn't even bring up - I did. I told him I'm looking forward to getting this extra weight off, to which he replied, "Just be aware that it's harder to lose weight when you're on Tamoxifen. Give it a good try though!" Ugh! Now it's time to go all Han Solo on him and this fat.

So it's all good. It's time for me to get through this week and next and kiss this year goodbye!