I Am Here

I am here. I am so happy to be able to say this sentence and know that I can continue to say this sentence for some time to come. Even though I have been diagnosed with breast cancer, everything has gone well for me. My surgery has gotten all of the cancer and it did not spread, so the chemotherapy and radiation I am now facing are to prevent any new cancer from growing.

Last Wednesday, I met with my oncologist for the first time to discuss my course of treatment. He discussed everything leading up to my diagnosis, including how I felt when I was finally given the bad news. Was I shaken up or was I expecting it? I was expecting it. That is not to say I wasn't devastated by the news, but I did have a very strong feeling that was what I would be told. There have been too many incidences of breast cancer around me (my mother, for one) and cancer in general in my family for me to think that I would not get cancer. I had actually said to my own family doctor, prior to my most recent mammogram, that it was not a matter of if I would get cancer, but when. The when turned out to be sooner than I thought, but then again, this news is always too soon.

I was given the choice between 2^nd generation or 3^rd generation chemotherapy. They fed all of my numbers; my age, the tumour size, the estrogen receptor status, histological grade of the cancer, and the number of nodes involved into a software program and predicted the rate for being alive and without cancer in 10 years.  The percentage point difference between 2^nd generation and 3^rd generation chemo treatments were only 2 percent, so I chose the 3^rd generation chemo of 6 treatments or cycles every 3 weeks for a total of 18 weeks instead of 4 treatments lasting 12 weeks. I figured since cancer has been so predominant in my family lately and the side effects may occur with either treatment, I should take the longer treatment to really step on this thing. “What? You are offering me more chemo? Well then, give me all you got!”

Here’s a little bit of detail on my stats and the chemo treatment I will be receiving. If you are not interested in this stuff just skip the next two paragraphs. I will try and put this type of detail in for those who may want to compare their treatments to mine. 

I am 47 and in excellent general health. The tumour size was 3.0 cm (fairly large, this is bad), no lymph node involvement (this is really good), histologic grade of 3 and Nottingham score of 9, (this is bad), and estrogen receptor status was positive (this good, but the scale is out of 8 and I was 5 out of 8, which means the cancer was not entirely estrogen caused).

The first 3 chemotherapy cycles involve 3 drugs, Fluorouracil, Epirubicin, and Cyclophosphamide, which will be given all at the same time during each treatment. The last 3 cycles are with a drug called Docetaxel.  Once chemotherapy is complete, I will be taking the drug Tamoxifen for 5 years. If I become menopausal, they will take me off Tamoxifen and put me on Aromatase Inhibitors. My oncologist told me “…at 47, there is a good chance your periods will go south.” I sure do like the way he speaks, it is kind of funny.

I should be starting chemo in about 3 or 4 weeks, but before that I have to have a multigated acquisition (MUGA) scan to make I do not any heart issues. One of the medications I will be given, Epirubicin, can cause heart problems if given in large doses. The dosage given during chemo is small, so it should not cause heart problems if you did not have them already. Once the first 3 treatments have occurred, I will receive a second MUGA scan to check on my heart once again.

At the end of the consultation with the oncologist, I asked for a port insertion, so that I do not have to take my chemotherapy drugs through an IV. My mother had her first treatment via IV and then received a port for subsequent treatments. She says it was much easier through the port. I do have some anxiety over the port insertion as my friend had her lung punctured during her insertion and she almost died.

I received a call late last week and was given December 9^th for the port insertion. They did not have a date for the MUGA scan as they said there was a shortage of something in nuclear medicine. I found out from my friend, who is a nurse, that they are short of isotopes. While looking online today, I came across this article on the Chalk River nuclear reactor which is causing an isotope shortage "Unplanned shutdown triggers isotope shortage; hospitals urged to use cautiously" . I do hope my MUGA scan is not delayed for too long.

I am in a good place right now; my outcome looks very promising, I am almost fully recovered from surgery, and I have not yet started chemo.  I am sure things will be quite different for me when I am suffering the effects of chemo (low white blood cell count, nausea and diarrhea, mouth sores, etc.) my place may not be so good. I read an article once by a doctor who said that years from now we will look back on how cancer was treated and think of how barbaric it was. He also mentioned about one day having a computer chip in our toilets that monitors our waste and can detect very early signs of cancer. It sounds pretty remarkable and I can't wait for that to happen. I have maintained my sense of humour throughout everything, including the bleak, dark days following diagnosis, when you only know you have cancer and do not know the extent of it. I have managed to joke about the scarring and bruising after my lumpectomy and have named my besieged left breast "Frankenboob". Also, I have recently began to sing my own Christmas carol, “I’ll Be Bald for Christmas”.

Love and light to you!

A song for you (not a carol).

I welcome any comments and questions.