September 27, 2005--I ran into my friend Janet today while I was walking my dog Belle and she encouraged me to resume my journal. Believe me, I have been meaning to do that, but just couldn't quite get motivated. Needless to say, I can't remember the day by day happenings, so bear with me.
I had my surgery 4 weeks ago today on Aug. 30th. There was a little confusion when I went into the hospital about where I was supposed to go and what I was supposed to do. First stop was to be radiology for a sentinel node mapping. Long story short, it did get done and the surgery started a little bit late, but it was no big deal. I have to confess at getting angry about it, which seems pretty silly in retrospect.
Although I expected to stay at the hospital for 3 days, Dr. Regan came in the next day, the 31st, and told me I needed to go home. That was a surprise! I was still vomiting from the anesthesia. He said the longer I stayed in the hospital, the greater were the chances of developing a hospital acquired infection. I know a little about that, having had friends who caught those, and also because the company I work for, BCBSTX, has an initiative going on to help reduce the number of "HAIs" that patients get.
The first week or so out of the hospital is pretty much a blur. I was on some fairly heavy pain meds and slept most of the time. Cissy was here until Sept. 4th when she had to return to Grand Rapids. She was amused by how stoned I got when I decided to take demerol. Boy, never again. That stuff made me talk to people who weren't there, and mumble, kind of like a mentally ill person you might see on the street.
I had a few visits from friends in those first couple of weeks, but I'm a little fuzzy on the details. If you are one of those friends, and I don't mention it, please don't feel slighted! I would like to thank LeeAnne who flew here from Kansas City to spend the weekend of Sept. 9-12th with Lee and me. It was such a pleasure to have her here and my mood was noticably elevated.
After about 2 weeks, Dr. Montero infused some more saline into my implant. That caused, and is still causing, discomfort. I had to quit all the good pain meds because they began to give me nausea--vicodin, darvocet, and vicoprofen. For that reason, I think I'm not going to have her do another one until after the next phase is completed.
The next phase is chemotherapy. Dr. Towell had me have a CT scan of the chest/abdomen/pelvis, and a bone scan to make sure that the cancer had not metastasized. After the surgery and the biopsy of tissue, there was evidence in one lymph node of a "micrometasteses." She said they don't even consider this to be node positive, since it was only .1 millimeter. However, as far as staging is concerned, it is stage 2 breast cancer. I asked Dr. Towell what would happen to me if I didn't take chemo. She said, statistically, I would have about a 40% chance of recurrence within the next 10 years. We also talked about radiation. I told her that someone would have to convince me that it is needed. Her response is that, since there were cancer cells in the skin, that is similar to inflammatory breast cancer, and they throw everything they have at that. But, like Scarlett O'hara, I don't have to think about that today, I can think about that tomorrow.
Right now, I'm mentally preparing myself for the chemo. Dr. Towell says it was a fairly aggressive cancer, and was "multicentric," meaning it was in more places than just the tumor I could feel (but x-rays and ultrasound couldn't detect). She has me scheduled for 6 infusions, 3 weeks apart. My first one will be on Oct. 7th. Dr. Towell says I need to think of it not as poison that will make me sick, but as armor that will protect me from this terrible disease. She says 99% of how I handle the chemo is up to my own attitude. If I just let it get to me, she says "I guarantee you will have all these side effects and more." She says I need to go back to work asap so that I can be occupied with other things and not just lie around worrying about myself. I know she's right, but keeping a positive attitude in the face of this is not an easy thing to do.
Fortunately, I am in a breast cancer support group. The first meeting was last week, and tonight is the 2nd one. It consists of 5 breast cancer patients, and 2 facilitators, both of whom are survivors and work for the Breast Cancer Resource Center.I am counting on this group to help me find my own strength.
Tomorrow, on Sept. 28th, my dear friend Anne H. will take me to the hospital to have a port-a-cath surgically implanted in my chest. This catheter will facilitate the delivery of the chemo infusions. The veins in the arms and hands can be damaged by the drugs. The catheter will alllow them to be placed into a large vein and they will be diluted right away without harming the vein itself. At least that's what they tell me.
In preparation for loosing my hair, I had my hair-dresser give me a buzz cut last week. I didn't know I had such a round head. It looks pretty silly, actually, but believe me, that is the least of my concerns right now. I'll probably wear scarves, but that remains to be been seen also.

October 3, 2005--Here I am, back by popular demand. I only say that because I receive notes and verbal requests encouraging me. After my outpatient surgery on Sept. 28th, I didn't feel up to typing. The after-effects of the port-a-cath placement were a little more unpleasant that I had anticipated. It was really sore the next day. After 5 days now, it's not so bad. I drove today for the first time since then.
I laid around a lot, took drugs, snoozed, and watched TV. Dr. Towell had given me an rx for Ativan for my nerves. It has a tendency to make me drousy, as does the vicodin for pain. At least when I'm asleep I don't have to ponder what chemo is going to be like. I'm going to find out for real in less than 4 days now. It is scary, I won't lie to you. But the prospect of getting cancer in my bones, brain, or liver is a helluva lot scarier.
I saw Melissa Etheridge on Oprah one day last week. She was diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer about a year ago and wanted to share a bit of her experience. I wish I hadn't watched it. Etheridge described taking chemo as being to hell and back, and how she would lie in bed for months with every cell in pain. I didn't need to hear that. If her message is "Hope," then I suggest that she tone down that part. It reminds me of women who feel compelled to share their horrible childbirth experiences with other women who are pregnant for the first time. It just isn't necessary.
Today I had appointments with my surgeon, Dr. Regan, to check out the port-a-cath placement and then with my PCP, Dr. Thadani for a pelvic exam. I read somewhere that it's not good to have a PAP when one is undergoing chemo, so I decided to have it done now. Dr. Thadani gave me a release to return to work half days for 3 days a week. So I stopped by the office and visited with Brian, my boss, and several other office mates. It felt good to be there. I'm weary of spending all that time alone at home and worrying myself silly.
Dr. Montero's nurse called today to see how I was doing. I told her that the discomfort from the implant and last saline infusion had not improved. She said to come in on Thurs. the 6th and Dr. Montero would take some out. I hope that helps.
My computer crashed on me today. Still don't know what happened, but I started looking at the Fry's Electronics add in Sunday's paper. After I hooked up my external hard drive, it booted up again. So, if I fail to keep up with this journal in the future, that could possible be a reason.