The New “Normal”

It’s the night before my first chemo treatment and I bouncing off the wall from the fear of what’s going to take place tomorrow morning.  I’ve joined a group nearby me, Breast Buds, and one of the members talks to me for close to two hours and manages to calm me down.  The next morning Richard accompanies me and stays by my side during the prep: weight, blood pressure, and blood tests. I’m also given an infusion of anti-nausea and anti-anxiety meds. Within a half hour I receive my first chemo treatment. In prepping me nurses explain this will be my longest treatment session–6 hours!

Surprisingly, everything goes well.  I’m just exhausted from the ordeal.  My Breast Buds buddy calls to check on me and make sure everything went well. I’m so blessed to be part of this group! It’s New Years Eve and we’re going to welcome in the New Year with our best and closest friends, Judy and Steve.  They know I can’t have any alcohol so we toast in 2015 with apple cider.  And dinner. . . oh my! Boiled lobsters with melted butter and lemon on the side, creamed spinach and scalloped potatoes.  Unlike what you sometimes hear about patients receiving chemo, the treatment has not caused me to lose my appetite.  Right now I see that as a blessing. First treatment down, only eleven more to go!

Life is a blur with no clear lines defined for me.  Once a week I receive my chemo treatment along with Herceptin.  When my chemo ends after twelve weeks, I’ll still continue to receive Herceptin, once every three weeks for a year!  My best friend and soul mate, my husband takes over and shops, cooks, cleans, day in and day out – not to mention taking me to my chemo treatments and doctor appointments.

In January, I saw my primary care physician and learned I had bronchitis.  Armed with an antibiotic and cough syrup, I began treatment for this. Now, I know when you’re on antibiotics, you need to take a probiotic or eat yogurt.  With everything going on in my life, that was the last thing I thought about.  Suddenly, after two weeks I was having tummy issues – loose, watery stool.  I didn’t say anything to anyone and let this go on for almost two months.  I was hardly eating anything and yet. . .

Then, one morning in March, my husband leaned over to ask me what I wanted for breakfast.  He felt my forehead and it was HOT, HOT, HOT!! He took my temperature ant it  was 105!  He called my oncologist who said: “give her two Tylenol capsules, don’t stop to dress her and take her to the E.D. in her pajamas.”

I’m All Better, Or Am I?

Surgery has gone well. I had a mastectomy and  I’m home from the hospital. On  Saturday, my surgeon calls to tell me the margins are clean and the one lymph node that was removed shows no cancer cells. The news is great.  As the surgeon and I hang up, he reminds me I need to call and make an appointment with the oncologist he’s referred me to.  I’m doing my little happy dance when I call the oncology office on Monday so I’m surprised when they can see me on Friday.

I arrive at the oncology office and I’m in an exam room waiting to meet Dr. O. She enters and warmly greets me, reviewing my history of cancer from mammogram, to biopsy, to mastectomy, to now. Then she begins reviewing my course of treatment. “Treatment? What treatment? No one’s mentioned anything about treatment. I thought I’m just here for a wellness exam.”  Her face darkens a little and she clears her throat. “Your surgeon should have told you that you need to have a treatment plan. I’m sorry that I have to be the one to tell you.”

“When they removed the cancer, some random cells may have broken loose. It’s like a dandelion gone to seed. When the wind blows, some seeds are dispersed and planted in the ground to bloom next season. That’s what the random cancer cells are like.” I sit and numbly listen to her prescribed course of treatment; twelve consecutive weeks of chemo with another drug, Herceptin.  Before leaving I schedule an appointment with an oncology P.A. who will answer my questions and take me on a tour of the facility. I thought I was all better, no need for any further treatments. I’m in shock. I’m looking at three months of consecutive chemo with Herceptin and then Herceptin every three weeks for a year. The oncology office also calls my surgeon to have him surgically insert a port-a-cath; less stress on my already poor veins when the chemo is infused. I’m all better. Yeah, right. But God keeps whispering in my ear–Trust me and “lean upon me, not your own understanding.”

My port-a-cath has been implanted and I’m at the oncologist’s office for my “tour.”  The tour takes about two hours and questions are answered as we walk through the various areas. We go back to the office of the P.A. and she gives me a binder, booklets and then has me sign numerous forms.  As we leave, I schedule my first appointment: 12/31/2014.  We walk to the car and once inside, I sob uncontrollably. My husband holds me assuring me everything’s going to be okay.  “That’s not why I’m crying. All the patients look so thin, so worn out, so sickly. I don’t want to look like that!”  He holds me close and looks me in the eye: “You’re a strong woman and you’ll never look like that. You’re going to beat this illness!”

Facing the Unknown

Before I can sort through my  many emotions, I receive a call from my surgeon and learn I’m scheduled for a mastectomy on Tuesday, November 18, 2014.  Our very dear friend, Steve accompanies Richard and me to the Phoenix Baptist Hospital.  I’m whisked away to be checked in and poked and prodded some more.  Finally I’m wheeled downstairs and and my husband meets me at the elevators. “There’s someone special here to see you.” “Who would be here to visit me?” Richard stepped aside and Pastor Brad from Calvary Chapel Surprise was here to see me before my surgery and pray for us.  With tears streaming down my face, I know God is keeping us safe in the palm of His hand. Pastor Brad prays over Richard and me.  As the 23rd Psalm tells us: “. . .I will fear no evil”.  “. . . My cup runs to overflowing. . .”  God whispers in my ear that everything will be all right.

Dealing With the Dreaded Words: You Have Breast Cancer

On October 6th, in the early afternoon my PCP calls and I need to schedule an appointment for my flu shot and a consult.  She tells me she has received the biopsy report and I schedule an appointment for Wednesday, October 8th at 9:00am.

I arrive at 9:00am for my flu shot and cancer consult. More tears as my PCP explains I have four tumors, one of which is cancerous.  She also explains that this is a tumor that can’t be removed through surgery (referred to as a lumpectomy) because the tumor has tentacles that resemble spider legs.  As I am leaving the office her staff is calling a breast surgeon to schedule an appointment.

I’m trying really hard to remain cheerful and optimistic but I have my moments where I just break out crying.  I’ve been praying almost non-stop and I believe God has a purpose.  I need to rely on God to guide me on this journey.  He knew my life before I even drew my first breath.  As I pray a calmness and peace washes over me.  Over and over a scripture keeps running through my mind: “whatever work it is you are doing, be busy in the work of the Lord.”

A Speedbump in the Road of Life

It’s 9am on October 2nd and I’m being prepped for four biopsies on my right breast. I’ve been praying over this strange curve on the road of life.  I have faith and know God will not ask me to endure more than I can bear; I pray for His calming spirit to come upon me.  A scripture keeps running through my mind as I pray: Keep busy in the work of the Lord.  I feel God is assuring me that if I become more involved in sharing the Good News with everyone I meet throughout my treatment, He will keep me strong.  I pray constantly for His Word to be found in my mouth; that He find me worthy to be His child; that He fill me with Holy Spirit to give a thorough witness for my unwavering hope in His promises.

An hour has gone by and I’m wondering when the technicians will be starting one of the biopsies.  I’m so surprised when they tell me that their part of the procedure has already been done and I’m going into another room to have the last three biopsies done.  God has answered my prayers.  The procedure has so far been pain-free.  Praise God!  I’m in prayer the balance will be just as pain-free.

There are three remaining biopsies.  The second biopsy proves to be painful.  No matter how much the radiologist numbs this one area, each time she tries to do the biopsy, the pain is almost unbearable.  I wince each time she tries to take more.  After two attempts, the radiologist says she won’t probe that area for more tissue and she lets me rest on the table; to catch my breath and prepare for the last biopsy.  The last biopsy is not painful and at last I’m done. At the site of each biopsy there is a marker the size of a mustard seed implanted so when future mammograms are taken these markers will show the removal of tissue.

I put on another gown and am waiting to have additional mammograms taken to be sure the markers show up.  As I’m waiting, I’m praying.  My prayer warriors have been amazing and God has graciously answered my prayers as well as theirs; that there is minimal pain. Everything looks good, so I’m given two ice packs and a pink teddy bear to hug while Richard drives me home.  The Radiology Technologist tells me my primary care physician (PCP) should have the results by Monday, October 6th.  Praise God I’m not in any real pain, just exhausted from the ordeal!  Now, more waiting, more praying.

 

 

An Unexpected Journey

Through the years I’ve had mammograms and like most women grumbled when there was pressure applied to the breasts to take the necessary pictures.  In each instance, thankfully, everything looked normal.  After my annual wellness exam, I scheduled my mammogram on August 28th of this year.  Imagine my surprise when on September 10th my PCP called saying my mammogram looked suspicious and they wanted another set of mammograms as well as an ultrasound.  I called and scheduled an appointment September 22nd.

After a series of mammogram films, I was brought into the Ultrasound Room.  I guess I started thinking something might be wrong when the Ultrasound Tech spent about forty-five minutes on my right breast.  She kept reassuring me saying my tissue was dense and just needed more time to capture the images.  At last the ultrasound was done and the tech told me I could dress and she would send my husband in if I wished since I needed to speak with the radiologist.

My husband came into the room and a few minutes later the radiologist entered.  Compassionate, she shared with me that there were some masses in my right breast that looked suspicious and I needed to have four biopsies on my right breast.

I was in shock!  Until now the worst illness I faced was bronchial pneumonia in 1984.  Now we were talking about biopsies; we were talking the possibility of breast cancer!