Into the ring again

By now, most of you know that my cancer has returned; it has spread to some lymph nodes in my chest wall and collarbone, and into my lungs. All this news came in bits and pieces, and was a complete shock to me.

I had that dreaded, "It's cancer" conversation with my surgeon on December 2, 2014, while I was at work. I had seen Dr Carr the week before to follow up on a suspicious lymph node above my left collar bone. The node was first discovered in June at an oncologist appointment. This was supposed to be a routine appointment, and so it was, until he found an enlarged lymph node. He wondered about it, but then quickly wrote it off as nothing to be concerned about. I pressed him for further testing, which he did. I was referred back to my family doctor, who sent me for an ultrasound. At every step, I was told that everything checked out fine. I had nothing to worry about. To follow up, I was to see my GP in 3 months, and she would send me to the surgeon for assessment if the lymph node was still enlarged. It was a bit bigger than it had been in the summer, so off I went to see Dr. Carr on November 26. He did a needle biopsy and called me with the results the day before I left for my trip to Montreal with Lucas.

That was a hard bit of news to swallow! I was orienting at at new unit that day, so I didn't know anyone very well. Someone asked me how I was doing and I passed off my glazed look as being tired. I went for a lunch break and then I called Norm. I told him my news, but decided I wouldn't say anything to anyone else until I got back from my Montreal trip. I wanted to have a fun time away without every conversation being about cancer. I especially didn't want Lucas to worry about me when he was supposed to concentrate on competing. 

The trip was great. Peggy met us there and we toured around Montreal. We even made it to Québec city. Lucas and Sarah had a good experience at the Skate Canada Challenge and will compete again in Kingston at the Nationals! I'm so glad I kept quiet about my problems. 

I arrived home on Tuesday, December 9 and had my biopsy on the 10th. At this point, I was hoping for a lymphoma diagnosis, not a breast cancer recurrence. Apparently, that would have been easier to treat. I also had a CT scan on Friday the 10th. That was to see if the cancer was anywhere else. Of course, I was hoping that it was just in the one lymph node. No. I found out that there were multiple nodes affected, as well as a 3.5 cm tumour on my chest wall, and at least 14 spots on my lungs. Oh, and it wasn't lymphoma. It was definitely recurrent breast cancer with metastases in the lung. Crap. Very big pile of crap. 

I saw my oncologist, who happened to be my old oncologist from my first time with cancer. She's a very proper older lady who wears skirts and Oxford shoes. She retired sometime after I saw her in 2009, and now is back for a locum. She looks just the same but now she's wearing Skechers. She set me up for chemotherapy to start promptly on Christmas Eve. Surgery won't be of use now because of the extent of the tumours. The plan is for chemo to work its magic, and then have a CT scan in a few months to assess the progress.

Chemo is going pretty well. I've had three sessions so far with minimal side effects. The only bothersome symptom is a bit of tummy trouble. The first three sessions were in Victoria, a two hour drive from home. Now that they have room for me in Nanaimo, I'll have my sessions at the hospital there, starting this Thursday. 

I will end this post on a positive note:

1. My bone scan came back clear,

2. I kept my hair for 3 and a half weeks after my first treatment. I noticed a few strands of hair on my shirt this morning, 

3. I'm still working, and I am so thankful for that. I love my job and I especially love my coworkers, 

4. Norm is coming home more often, and will be home this Friday,

5. I have fantastic, caring children. 

Let's store 2009 on a shelf, far to the back.

I'm glad most of my bad stuff happened in one year. It's so much easier to contain that way. Years from now, when I'm old and grey, I can look back on the years and say, "Remember 2009? That was the year Cancer and I hung together. I met his pals Chem O. Therapy and Radi Ation. That was the year my Dad died. That was the year I had a mastectomy. Et cetera, et cetera..." I won't confuse 2009 with any other year. For example I will remember that 1971 is when I became a big sister, 1980 is when I got my driver's lisence, 1982 is when I graduated high school, 1989 is when I met Norm, and 1995 is the year Norm and I married. The years 1996, 1997, 1999, and 2001 are highlighted with the birth of our children. We moved to Nanaimo in 2001. All good things, all good years. I'll hang on to 2009 because I can't get rid of it. After all, who would want it? I'm not regifting that baby. Just stick it on a shelf and cover it with dust bunnies.

getting back to normal

What is normal, anyway?

My one year cancerversary was last week, and I decided to change a couple things on the blog. Since I have changed a lot over the course of the year, then my blog should reflect those changes. One thing I still need to do is to change my profile picture. I do not resemble that person at all anymore. My outside has changed substantially, but I have also changed on the inside. Can anyone see that? Does that show? What do people notice? You might say that I'm a stronger person, more courageous and brave. You might say that my inner strength shines in my eyes. If you say those things about me, thank you. How I really feel, deep inside, is a sense of disconnection with the world. I am not my "normal" self anymore. I am not where I thought I would be at this time of my life. Well, I am still alive; that was always the plan! No, really, though - last fall, I had plans to get back to work. That plan quickly went out the window with all that happened. If I had already been working, I might have pushed myself to keep going, but to go out and look for work, no. So, I'm finished treatment, but life seems to have passed me by.

I had a really hum drum week after I finished radiation. I wanted someone to tell me that I am done, that I am cured. Of course, no one will say that. What now? I have to wait five years to know that I am probably in remission. If the cancer hasn't come back by then, it probably won't. For the next five years, though, I have to wait and see. I guess I will always be waiting. I should have held a big party to celebrate the end of treatment. My family celebrated with me, but I should have held an all-out, invite everyone, grand partay. That would have snapped my out of the doldrums a bit sooner.

I did snap out of it, and was happy to catch up with friends. Commuting four hours a day doesn't leave much time for socializing! I had an appointment for November 10 to meet with my plastic surgeon to discuss plans for reconstruction. That was not to be, however. Two weeks after my last radiation session, the orthopaedic surgeon called with a surgery date for my ankle repair - November 10. I would like to have had more time to prepare, but at the same time, I was very happy to get my ankle fixed. He was going to repair my stretched and torn ligaments - a brostrom repair. As I looked into the procedure, I realized I would be spending some time in a cast. Six weeks, to be exact. It's my right ankle. No driving. Now, I have the same issue I had when I was away every day in Victoria for radiation, but in reverse. I still can't hang out with friends, or do regular things like errands, and volunteer at school. I'm home all the time, but can't get a lot done. Crutches are a pain. What a whiner, eh? I am looking forward to hiking again. It is a relief to put this ankle business behind me. At least I know what the future holds for me in that department.

My appointment with the plastic surgeon had to be put off until January 10. I wonder how long his surgical waiting list is. My Mom sent me an article about regrowing breast tissue. Wouldn't that be fabulous? If you're interested, here's the article.

So getting back to normal is a challenge, especially when things beyond my control keep messing with me. Maybe, though, I don't want to be normal. I just want to be me.