Game on?

Went to the doc on Friday in the crazy aftermath of the 9+ inches of snow and ice. Despite fighting off the flu for the past few days and still not being able to hear out of my ears, I had chemo.

I look tired. I am tired. I'm really tired of being sick. I spent most of yesterday fighting off pretty significant nausea despite tons of meds. I am supposed to take the shot to increase my white blood cell count, but I just couldn't stomach the idea of feeling more awful. I know it's a risk but I am willing to take it. I'm still in negotiations with my Onc about whether or not I'll have the last AC round before I go to surgery. 

Last time I updated, I said I needed to find space to grieve. It's been hard to do that for a number of reasons. First and foremost, the kiddos have been sick (and so have I), so there's been a lot of extra caretaking going on. Secondly, I'm not sure exactly *what* I'm grieving. I don't have very many specifics about my surgery and I won't for a few more weeks--until I meet with the plastic surgeon. Once I know the extent of his portion of the surgery, I feel as though I'll have a better idea as to my next steps. 

I have made some progress, though. I know that after my surgery, I'll be laid up and unable to play or actively participate for awhile. I had a dose (as did Neil) of what that will be like when I was out for the past 3 days fighting off the flu/nausea. It was hard to hear the boys playing with Neil and asking to play with me but literally being unable to get up to interact with them. V cried last night when I couldn't put him to bed. We came up with a suitable fix and he fell asleep on the couch while I laid here. J needed some extra cuddles last night, too. So, I was glad to be able to spend some cuddle time with each boy despite not being able to actually play with them lately. 

At any rate, I'm so glad for all of you. Everyone who takes the time to read this, who checks in with us and who generally thinks about us and helps out in all the ways you do. Gina--for coming with me and holding me while I cry in the doctor's office. Christina, Melissa, Krista, everyone...for seeking me out at work to check in. Shannon and Ryan for texting. Everyone for your kind FB msgs all the time. Rosemary, Tod, Colin and Sky--all the awesome hats!!! They've been fantastic, especially during this "polar vortex". Of course, my Mom as well--she's frequently come up to help take care of the boys and is planning to come up when I'm recovering from surgery. 

I'm sorry if I am forgetting anyone. I'm not trying to leave anyone out. I love you all. 

AND Neil for everything! For being both parents and caretaking me as well as the boys, and the house and all the things! 

I appreciate each and every one of you. I really hope you all know this. <3 

Surgical dates and all the feels

From the start of this, I knew better than to become married to the idea of a specific end date. So many things about cancer remind me of being pregnant. They seem so analogous on the surface: showing, ambiguous end dates, the idea that you're changed forever once it happens.

Before we walked into the office yesterday, I knew what the doctor was going to say. He listened to my lungs, listened to my chest and officially declared me "too sick" to have chemo this week. Despite my white blood cell count coming back ridiculously high (WTG, body! Working hard despite all the stresses) it just wasn't a chance he wanted to take. So between the cold and my newly diagnosed and rare hand-to-foot syndrome, it's pushed back until next week...which means my end date for this round is also pushed back. It was devastating to hear that my end date was changed. I so badly want to be done with this and move on to the next wave. I'm done with feeling awful due to the "treatment".

Speaking of next wave, I have a surgical date for my mastectomy: March 25th. I plan to work right up until that date, in order to preserve as much of my FMLA time as possible. The doctor anticipates that I'll be out for 2-4 weeks (mostly due to heavy lifting restrictions at my work). I haven't properly grieved the fact that I have to have this surgery. I've been informed by my clinical supervisor at work that I really need to do this. Sometimes, I feel as though being a therapist hinders my own ability to appropriately express my own feelings. It's just become such a habit to sit with them briefly and then tuck them into my back pocket. I'm so busy trying to function: as a wife, as a mom, as a therapist--I don't have time to sit in my fear and anger and sadness. Which is such a disservice to myself and my family! So, my goal for the next week is to find some time to sit in my feelings and to allow myself to feel all the feels about how much this situation truly sucks. If I don't, I don't think I'll ever truly heal from this. And, in the end, I'll do the social worker re-frame: I'll try to find the positive in this situation.

My Many Colored Days...

"My Many Colored Days" is a Dr. Seuss book that I sometimes use in therapy with kiddos. The book uses colors as a medium to talk about feelings. Today (and yesterday), I've been feeling a little brown:

It's been 4 months of chemo and 5 months of this diagnosis. I usually am pretty upbeat about the process and everything that's going on (it's hard to remove the therapist from the person) but some days are just brown. And shitty. And that's okay. 

We met with the surgical oncologist yesterday. We got the definitive word: I'm having a single mastectomy with "immediate"* reconstruction. I think Neil and I were holding out hope that I might have a less extreme surgery, but according to Dr. Tuttle my tumor is just too big and pervasive. So, just when Neil and I thought we were almost done, we find out that there is 9+ months left to go. The rough timeline looks a little like this: chemo ends 2.28. 3-4 weeks later (end of March/early April) I go in for surgery. 4-6 weeks of recovery from surgery with limited ability to lift more than 10 lbs. 6 weeks of daily radiation. October/September/November time frame: reconstruction. And somewhere in here, I'll start the 9 months of Herceptin (every 3 weeks I'll have to receive this infusion).

When Dr. Tuttle broke the news he literally said, "I'm really sorry. You were dealt a shitty hand."

Seems like the brown description was more than fitting, Dr. Seuss...

Today has been better. Despite being horribly sick** I've had a chance to get some distance from the news and begin to process it. There's nothing I can do but continue to plod this race. Instead of running a sprint we are coming to terms with the idea that this is a triathlon. Right now, I'm going to focus on the end of this portion and the beginning of the next (surgery). Once I get through this, I can focus on what comes next. And through it all, continue to sit through all my colored days...even the shit-brown ones.



*Immediate reconstruction is such a freaking misnomer. I can't actually have the implant until 6 months post treatment. I'll have a temporary implant in the meantime. So yay, two surgeries. :( 

**When you have a cold on chemo, it's a really big deal. Like, huge. I was told to go to the ER today despite having nothing more than a cough, congestion and sore throat. No fever. When you are on chemo and you get sick, you can go from fine to hospitalized rather quickly. So getting sick on this end of it is a huge deal. Thankfully, I literally only have a crappy cold and should be better soon. Hopefully this doesn't impede my next treatment. 

Halfway to the halfway point?

I had my 2nd of 4 treatments yesterday. I think Neil and I were both expecting it to be more of the same: foggy-head, achy muscles, overly tired...We have both been pleasantly surprised thus far! I haven't been overly tired nor have I experienced the fogginess that came with the last round. There were some slight changes to the med regimen that may account for this, and if so then I'm going to request a permanent change. I suspect the achy-ness will come as the shot works it's way through my system and encourages my bones to make more white blood cells. But if that's the worst of it, I'll survive!

I titled this post "halfway" because we honestly don't know what is happening after this round. I'm due to have surgery (and I find out what and when next week). Recovery could be anywhere from 2-6 weeks, depending on type of surgery.

I also finally received my genetic testing results. I have no genes* causing my breast cancer. This means that I likely fall into the category of "Familial Cancer" where some genetics and environmental factors come together to create the cancer.

On the work side of things, I've finally "graduated" from my day treatment classroom. I'm officially, solely an outpatient clinician**! I'm excited to move forward with the next phase of my career! I'm also far over my necessary hours to take my licensure exam and am planning on turning in the paperwork to complete that process! 

*Of the genes tested. There are millions of genes and environmental factors and I was only tested for the 6 most probable causes of breast cancer--two of which were the "Angelina Jolie" genes, BRCA 1 & 2. 

**For the time being. FMLA and this current bout of treatment have made it unlikely that I could continue as a day tx clinician. After tx has ended, I *might* have to return to a day treatment classroom, but this is clinically inappropriate as well as unfair for my colleagues. As for now, I'm an outpatient clinician and I won't know anything different for a few months. Cancer: life, ambiguous!