903 Days since diagnosis

Just one of the wildflowers I've enjoyed this spring

Two years, five months and twenty one days ago I heard, "You have a cancer, honey."  It wasn't a big shock because I'd already heard the word "malignant" from my primary care physician's nurse who got the report before I heard from the doctor who performed my biopsy.

The world "malignant" made me gasp, literally.  I don't know why, my intuition was telling me for months that there was something desperately wrong even though the "wrongness" was subtle and I easily convinced myself that it might just be a) menopause or b) getting older. 

But that's all old news.  Today I have more good days than bad.  Today I have hair that actually gets messy on a windy day.  I can't tell you how much I love having messy hair on a windy day.  But there are reminders that I've had breast cancer, and in an effort to continue to pass on information about this disease and the consequences of treatment, I'll tell you this:

Tamoxifen sucks.

I can't lose weight and it's a victory to just not gain weight.  I have terrible cramps in my feet, legs, hands, armpits (no kidding) and I even had one in my jaw when I yawned recently.  I'm not sure why I'm having so much trouble with this but a quick, disturbing home remedy is yellow mustard.  When the cramps are more than a passing irritation, when they're so bad I can't sleep, I get up and have a big ole heapin' helpin' of yellow mustard.  It's not for the faint of heart but when your feet want to curl up like pringle potato chips, you'll try anything. 

My nails are still brittle and slow growing.  I'm not sure if this is a residual effect of chemo or menopause but I just keep them clipped short and go with the flow. 

My hearing has improved from what it was while on chemo.  But don't get excited, my hearing sucked before chemo!  During chemo, I couldn't tell the shower was running unless I looked.  Now, while showering, it's nice to hear the water.  I still can't function in society without my hearing aids .. but you don't know what you miss till it's gone and having to LOOK at the shower to see if it's on is a little heartbreaking.  

I am experiencing swelling in my left leg.  My oncologist thinks it might be a tamoxifen issue or it could be that I have developed a bit of lymphedema on my left side all the way down my leg.  I've had two ultrasounds in the last six months to eliminate the possibility of blood clots (a prominent side effect of Tamoxifen) and so far, so good.  I also feel swollen and "numb" on my left side from my shoulder blade to my waist from time to time.  Usually it's after I've probably done too much, like lifting 50 lbs. of chicken feed or carrying in too many groceries.  I'm going to check into getting a lymphedema compression sleeve to see if that will relieve the discomfort. There's no way to predict lymphodema or cure it when it does happen but many breast cancer patients experience it due to the removal of lymph glands in the surgical process.  My surgeon removed 26.  I've only met one other breast cancer sister who had more removed and she lost 29.

Fatigue is still my nemesis but every week that goes by I realize I am walking farther, doing more and feeling more like myself before breast cancer.  I still get frustrated because there's so much I want to do, need to do, and I have to "budget" my energy.  For example, if I have appointments or errands to run on Wednesday, I know that on Thursday, I'm going to have to take it easy.  If I clean house in the morning, in the afternoon I might need a nap.  If I do laundry all day on Saturday, on Sunday I'll be watching old westerns on TV most of the day.  I don't like it.  I used to be able to clean my house, do the laundry, wash my truck and mow the yard and still have the energy to cook dinner for friends.  Those days appear to be over.  

But it's not all bad.  I have a deeper appreciation for everything.  Walking outside and hearing the birds is a small thing but it's such a precious thing.  Noticing the sky changes from winter to spring to summer not only marks the passing of time but the progression of sick to well again. 

I asked my Dr. M the day we first talked about my regime of treatment how long I would be sick.  She told me a year.  I know that having the MRSA infection, subsequent surgery and wound vac added months to my recovery, but even so "a year" was an optimistic prediction.  June 1 will mark my two year anniversary of my last FAC chemo.  It's been a long haul.

Now I am much more sensitive to others that are facing this and other cancers in their families and we all know far too many who have this disease.   It's life changing in so many ways that are unpredictable.  Financially, emotionally, certainly physically --- and spiritually.   I never asked "why me" because I'd much rather it be me than one of my children or grand children.  But I can't say I haven't railed against God when I wasn't instantly better.  Patience has never been one of my virtues .. 

So, in a little more than a week I will be up at the crack of dawn and speeding, with Dave, towards Houston and M. D. Anderson.  It's time for semi-annual scans, blood work and a visit with my oncologist.  I don't dread it but it makes me a little nervous.  "Scanxiety" it's called.  And apparently most cancer patients experience it.  Once you've walked through the fire of chemo, surgery and radiation and all the extracurricular activities associated with cancer treatment, you hardly want to repeat that journey.  But, at least, if I do have a recurrence I know that I have God and all of you rooting for me.  And what very good cheerleaders you all are.  Rah! Rah!

Choose to be happy.  That's really all there is to it.

Love, 

Darlene