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.