Sock it to 'em, Tigers!

ACLS  Championship 

Game 1 - NYC

DETROIT TIGERS  vs New York Yankees

Friday, Sept. 30

8:37pm

It's a funny thing ...

It wasn't until we were driving home from the clinic yesterday when my son said the word 'terminal', that I got the first inkling what this all means. As the doctor was telling me I would be on medication for the rest of my life; talking about 2 years & possibly up to 10 years - all that was registering in my mind was "Yippee, no chemo!" No throwing up. No nausea. "Yippee!" Now, I understand the unusual look on her face when I said this was a blessing in disguise. "Pills instead of chemo." All along I've been a rational patient, taking notes, asking questions; and then the most seriously important information she could tell me, flew right over my head. Maybe that's why the nurse later gave me a big hug. Mentally & emotionally, I'm fine. At least I think I am.   (I wrote the above to my friends on another website.  But the car ride is so profound to me that I feel it's important to include it here.  I think there's more to write about when reality hit me during & after that car ride, but that's for later.) I've slept only about an hour since 6am, yesterday (Tuesday).  I was too keyed up to sleep last night, & even during the day today.  I've got the Tiger game on now & am ready to relax.)

Mystery is a speedbump ...

I'm going to keep this brief because I'm still trying to wrap my head around this.

They found from testing last week, that I have Metastatic Breast Cancer.  It is incurable. 

Chemotherapy & radiation are out, for now, at least.  I've already started on treatment, which is hormonal therapy.  (I took my first dose after dinner, at 7:17pm.)  The hope is this will begin to shrink the breast tumor.  Whether it does or does not, there are other courses of treatment that can be prescribed.

Also, my blood is very thick - Polycythemia.  I have to go weekly to have blood drawn - the nurse removed 500mL today.  It was so thick that my blood stopped flowing through the first tube & she had to start again with another vein.  Some of the blood is being sent to the Mayo Clinic for testing.

From the ECHO test - my heart is good & strong.

When I get my wits together, I'll blog further.  My brain is exhausted.

Off to a crossword puzzle & watch a little TV ...

My adventure has a mystery ...

FFS, I've never been an alarmist, so I'm just going to refer to the doctor's  call today as my adventure's great mystery.

Now, I feel better.  Sorta helps take the knots out of my tummy. 

Dunno what to think ...

Looks like my first chemotherapy treatment tomorrow is canceled.  

My oncologist left a couple of troubling messages this morning.  After reviewing my Echo & Cat Scan results, she canceled the chemo.  Doc said she'd be out of the office the rest of the day, but wanted to see me this week to discuss the chemo schedule & change in treatment.

Seven minutes later she called again, telling me to come into the Out Patient clinic tomorrow morning, as planned, & she would talk to me there.

I dunno what to think.  This certainly throws a monkey wrench into my psyche.  As crazy as it sounds, I was finally looking forward to tomorrow's chemo - you know, to get the show on the road.  Toward recovery.

Why can't things be more simple?  

I find myself diagnosed with breast cancer, but the surgeon says it's baseball size is too big to safely remove surgically.  He sent me to the oncologist for consult & to also begin chemotherapy.  This is called neoadjuvant therapy, or treatment given before the primary therapy, which is the surgery.  The chemo would shrink the tumor for safe removal.

Both the surgeon & the oncologist were concerned the cancer may already be in other parts of my body.  This past Friday, I had the Echo, Cat Scan & a Body Scan.  I suppose their results are not good news.  What else can I think?

I feel so lost & lonely.  No one to talk to about this.  My son isn't prepared to discuss it.  I know he's concerned, but what can he do but tell me to hang in there.  

In my life, nothing has come simple.  There's always a twist.  A monkey wrench.  I truly believed I earned to live through my golden years in the most peaceful & simplistic way as possible.  I finally was beginning to accept the cancer, but now, I don't know what I'm expected to accept tomorrow. 

My adventure ...

 

I woke up this morning thinking it was Monday, and immediately went into a panicked spin.  I didn't want it to be Monday. Not yet.  Once I turned the TV on & saw 'Meet The Press', well, of course that meant it was Sunday. What relief. 

Tuesday, the 27th, I start my first regiment of Chemotherapy. 

I'm hoping this blog will help me through this new adventure, because I don't know what to do with my thoughts as I think them.  Outwardly, I've been stoic.  Inwardly, I'm a mess.  Is it possible to be a stoic mess?  Or a messy stoic?

I recently was diagnosed with breast cancer.  It's grown to about the size of a baseball, & the doctors wonder if there isn't cancer elsewhere.  This past Friday, my oncologist sent me in for an Echo, CT Scan, & a Bone Scan.  I suppose I'll learn something new from these tests this week.

So here I am, late Sunday night, & unsure of what to write.  I don't like being the center of attention.  I'm the one who prefers to sit in the background quietly soaking it all in. 

Maybe all I need to do is get this initial post out of the way, & the next one will be easier.