So it seems I've raced up to and
over the "big round 4" milestone! I have a few days - maybe a week of
feeling relatively shitty but all in all, I have made it through what we know
as the toughest of my chemotherapy treatments. Phew! (She says with great
hesitancy for what’s about to commence: 12 straight weeks of chemo.)
The team had the routine of this
circus down by the time round 4 appeared. Get to the oncologist’s office, sign
in. Tell the front desk that I'm headed back to the "chemo room" to
get my blood drawn and the testing underway (since this takes about 20 minutes)
and then go in to see the doc where she'll poke around and listen to my
questions and apprehensions. She's a good listener. Liz and I try and make a
list ahead of time of questions to ask about what's going on with me plus any
questions about next steps, etc. Back to the "chemo room", where the
IV is inserted into my mediport and the games begin. Two and a half hours
later, I’ve watched a couple of episodes of “The Americans”, and I’m all pumped
up with those lovely poisons that are saving my life and we head home.
A routine. But not a routine I
wish to get too comfortable with. I still long for the day my hair begins to
grow back, the nausea is in the rear view mirror, and my energy returns. I keep
focused on the calendar and the countdown to when this nightmare is over
for me. For the rest of my life I will be a “cancer survivor”. Always a bit
more worried and conscious of cancer than the “normal” gal. Always concerned Congress and the Administration will get rid of the "pre-existing conditions" safety net as they fuck with the ACA. Oh, how I hate that.
But this is what life dealt me. And like everyone else, I’m gonna attempt to fly
through the bumpy parts as quickly and smoothly as possible – albeit a bit more
bumpy than I would have chosen for myself.
This milestone also marked my
return to the surgeon for another ultrasound and glimpse of whether all this
shit is making any difference on my tumor. I’ve talked in high regard for my surgeon
in past posts. Still feel this way about her. She’s self-assured, ex-Army
surgeon, a bit on the quirky side, and absolutely confident cancer will be
eradicated from my body. She’s also the one who will cut off my boobs and
forever change this one and only body I possess, so having confidence in her is kinda key!
Sitting with her can make your
head spin a bit. She talks fast, works fast, and yet has the patience to ensure
I’ve asked every single question Liz and I have written down. As she’s
performing the ultrasound she asks me what I think. I tell her that I’m not
going to “jinx” it by saying anything out loud. But personally, deep down I feel its working.
The result of the ultrasound is
quite encouraging. Again, I’m not sure how “excited” to be about all this, but
it is encouraging. My tumor has reacted quite positively to the chemo and for
now, that’s wonderful news. It could have been the opposite – no reaction what
so ever - so I’ll take whatever “positive” news is handed to me.
But we continue on….I now gear up
for the final 12 weeks of weekly chemo. Different drug, different side effects,
hopefully more of the same positive result. It was great to have my dear
friend, Christina, out from Denver for the week. She pampered me with daily
acupuncture, mediation music, and her calming presence. Please keep those
positive thoughts and prayers coming! They are working on my psyche and working
on my cancer!
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