Cancer Isn’t My Lifestyle

With my final Herceptin and Perjeta infusion one week away and my port removal the week after, I'm in a weird space right now.  Happy?  Scared (feels safe while in treatment, as if Herceptin is saving my life, which, quite frankly, it is)? Relieved? Astonished at what has transpired in the past year?  I've had some weird moments over the past few weeks.   Last week, I pulled into the golf club and realized I was crying.  Like really crying.  Out of the blue.  I was headed out to golf for goodness sakes, WTF?  And then I realized.  I was playing Spotify on my car's sound system and the song that was almost over had been on my 'Cold Cap Playlist'.  I played that brief, 6 song playlist every time I cold capped during chemo.  Clearly my subconscious registered this and I was physically crying.  So weird. Walgreens, yesterday.  I went to fill my prescription of Anastrozole, the 3rd set of 90 days.  I was anxious about gett...

Flash back to October 2, 2024.  I'm getting my port in.  I'm on the surgical floor of MGH West in Waltham.  I am sedated, a medical professional makes 2 incisions, one where the port is placed in my right chest area and one where a tube is inserted into a vein in my neck.  You can see the tube over my collarbone.  It's been very effective, even though I hate it.  It's a constant reminder.   Flash back to yesterday.  I receive a call from Interventional Radiology to schedule my port removal.  I know from prior conversations with my medical oncologist that this procedure is done WHILE THE PATIENT IS AWAKE, WITH JUST LOCAL NUMBING AGENTS.  WTF?  No thank you.  The nurse explains that again yesterday and I say 'no'.  Nope.  You sedated me to put it in, and you will sedate me to take it out.  I will throw up if I feel anyone cut into me, or any tugging or pulling while it's being taken out.  I'm pretty ...

Today was a tornado.  The wind of emotions that swirled through me qualify as a tornado.   I've never had to deal with anxiety until cancer came into my life.  This morning, my anxiety was an 8/10.  Maybe more. This was my first mammogram since all of this started, literally a year ago.  In the same place where I realized that I probably had cancer.  I hadn't been back there since.  When I say I was dizzy and lightheaded, I'm not kidding.  It was amazing to see how my body physically reacted to being there. PTSD is real.  Check in at 8:15am for 8:40am mammogram.  Sit in the waiting room.  Watch the others.  Who has a husband with them (like me).  Who doesn't (lucky ones).  I found myself sitting in front of a little tree with little pink 'cancer notes' on it.  Like "Thinking of my late Grandma".  As if that helps anyone in this room.  I want to smack it off the table and onto the floor. I hear a wo...

I doubt anyone is still out here, but for the sake of shits and giggles, let's catch up. Today is the 1 year anniversary of the mammogram that changed my life.  I'm not trying to be dramatic; so much has changed in my life it makes my head spin.  And then again, it hasn't. For example, today I went for a long walk with a friend, had a meeting about our house in Maine, got a manicure and went to the grocery.  No change from what I would have done in other summers. But I have to do my daily physical therapy for my shoulder (still in complete pain even though I'm seeing a great PT for it).  I had Herceptin and Perjeta infusion number 15 of 17 yesterday and a meeting with my medical oncologist.  The appointments keep coming.  The things I have been through to stay alive boggle my mind. And next Monday is the PTSD-inducing first mammogram since this all started.  I'm back on the prevention train (while finishing treatment - it's all insane).  And an ap...

Paris was, as you might imagine, heaven.  Bliss.  Totally grateful to have had the opportunity to travel with LDLF.  6 days of joy.  And back to reality.   Last week, I had an oncology massage at MGH.  It's in the same building as my radiation treatments but not in the basement.  Didn't matter.  I walked through the door and physically swayed from dizziness.  The PTSD is strong with me.  Went to the waiting room and again, was the youngest person there.  Spied the infusion rooms, gave another shudder, and after a little wait, headed back to meet my new BFF, the massage therapist.   When I think 'massage', I think 'spa'.  Nope.  An exam room in which you get a 'massage'.  However, it's not a normal massage AT ALL.  Instead, she worked to loosen the muscles which have shrunk: "Like if you put a chicken breast in the microwave, it shrinks.  That's what has happened to your shoulder and pec muscles."  ...

The oncology visit last week went well as one can.  The pain under my left armpit is, tah dah!, from radiation!  Turns out my muscles under there are working like shoelaces now rather than rubber bands.  Thank you scar tissue.  Is it any wonder my mobility is reduced?  Still need to schedule PT for this but at least there's an answer. With regard to the A1C, I'm to ignore that result for now.  It's a 3 month look back, and guess who still had chemo running through her then?  Me.  I will reschedule the test for 3-6 months out and then we'll get serious about it if we need to be. The only shit news, and I appreciate the candor and honesty, is that there is NOTHING to do for my head hair.  It's still shedding, 17 weeks PFC, and it sucks.  I have a tiny bit of growth but it's random short hairs here and there.  I'm still treating it like lace and I am itching to REALLY wash it (scrub my scalp), blow dry it on full heat, and take a ...