Sense of Sadness

If I have to fire off the cuff in a bad situation, I tend to react as a "glass half empty" type of person. However, if given a little while to process a situation, I usually can gain the perspective of the "glass is half full". In my cancer situation, my initial reaction was of course one of "half empty" (or honestly even empty, at some points), but as time passed, I began to see my situation in a little brighter light. But now, especially in the last month or so, my perspective has been a little dimmer. Now don't get me wrong... I still am very aware that I have so many things to be thankful for and I am thankful. I just have noticed that I have had this underlying sense of sadness lately.

I didn't really even understand this change that had come over me until the parade at the fair. There was a breast cancer awareness float, and my 10 year old daughter saw it, got all excited and said, "Mom! That's just like the cancer you had! I'm so happy 'cause you beat it!" and she turned around and gave me a huge hug. I had to work every fiber in my being to not cry, because I knew if I let one tear go, I'd soon be bawling and snotty nosed in front of way too many people. Most of my emotion was of happiness, but there was this tiny bit of nagging sadness, that I couldn't quit put my finger on. Now I think I get it. I have been really struggling lately with the fact that I am realizing that I can't just be done with cancer and say I "beat" it. I think that is where my sadness of late is coming from. I started this journey thinking that someday somehow my old life would return... and now, the further I get into my "fight" the clearer the realization is that I will never get my "old" life back. I will always need to be watching and wondering if cancer is going to rear its ugly head again, and that is just one of the many changes in my life.

So, I honestly think this sadness I've been feeling is a sense of mourning to the end of the naive easy life I used to have before, while transitioning into the life of a cancer survivor. With surviving cancer, a person becomes keenly aware of what it means to be mortal with the clarity I never saw before my cancer diagnosis. As a cancer survivor, there is a lot of numbers (usually percentages) associated with survival rates and recurrence rates. Even though my diagnosis was a very early diagnosis with a probable good outcome, the odds of my dieing early have increased dramatically from those of the average person my age. That hits a person hard. Also, living thru a cancer situation also makes the realization that bad things (really bad things) can just happen one day and turn your whole world upside down so much more real. I now have to try really hard in some situations to just relax and let life happen and not worry about every "what if", because worrying doesn't change if things happen or not.

Now, I don't necessarily think it is a bad thing that I am sad at this point. I think it is a necessary and healthy part in processing this situation. But I do need to get thru this transition. I'm hoping that someday somehow I will get to the point where that sadness is gone, where I can say I am a survivor without feeling that twinge of sadness at the loss of the life I once had and where I can see my glass as a cancer survivor as "half full" and hopefully overflowing!

Rescheduled Again!

Yesterday afternoon I got another phone call from Mayo. Once again, my surgery has been rescheduled.... back to August 12th. It is hard to not be frustrated, as we keep making plans, to only have to cancel them, but I realize things happen for a reason. So I guess we will once again be canceling hotel reservations.

I'm not exactly sure why plans keep changing, but I've maybe picked up on the fact the surgeon's wife can't decide when they should go on vacation. The nurse that called me was very apologetic and embarrassed. She said in sixteen years, she has never had to move a patient around like this. Oh well, not a whole lot we can do... I'm not switching surgeons, 'cause from what I understand he is one of the best in his department.

Change of Plans

Like all well laid out plans, inevitably something will happen to thoroughly muck up those plans. We had a whole family vacation planned around my trip down to Mayo for reconstructive surgery. It involved a hotel stay with a swimming pool, camping with family and visiting the zoo. And, of course, after talking this plan over for a couple of weeks, we finally decided to put the plans in "concrete" and make reservations at hotel and campground, only to get a phone call from Mayo a mere two days later informing us my surgeon would be going on vacation during my scheduled surgery, so my surgery had to be rescheduled. The good thing is, though, instead of bumping me to a later date, they pushed up my surgery date to August 3rd, with pre-op appointments on the 2nd. So now our well-laid out plans have been canceled and we have begun to make new "mini" plans.

I have no idea what kind of recovery or restrictions I will have after surgery, as all the information I had about the reconstructive surgery was based off having immediate reconstruction at the time of the mastectomies, since that was our original plan. I don't know how much the recovery time and lifting restriction time changes with delayed reconstruction vs. immediate. I don't really know what kind of a hospital stay I am in for, either.

In four more days, I will be receiving my last dose of "chemotherapy". Emotionally, I am torn about this. Guaranteed, I'm not sad this phase is over, but I am having a really hard time feeling as happy as I should be feeling. Most of that is because during our last visit with my Oncologist we learned that my Herceptin treatmenst will be continuing weekly, rather then the once every three weeks we were told when we started treatment. My oncologist didn't spend any time explaining this decision, or give us any time to ask questions as to why this changed, but from asking around, I think it has to do with the strength of the dose. When Herceptin is given every three weeks, the dose is higher, and runs a higher risk of damaging the heart. The once a week treatment is a lower dose and much easier on the heart, from what I can gather, so that must be why that decision was made. For some reason, going in for infusion once every three weeks for nine months seemed so much more doable then continuing my once a week schedule for another nine months. I feel a little like I was told I was going to be running a half marathon, training and mentally preparing for that and then as I see the finish line coming for my half marathon I get told that I need to run a full marathon. I don't feel mentally prepared or strong enough to endure another nine months of weekly infusions. I know I'll get thru it one treatment at a time, but it has been hard getting over the emotional let down of not having things be as I expected. But I will deal and get thru it.

The Herceptin treatments will be easier to tolerate then the "chemotherapy", so that is a bonus. Herceptin in not considered a chemotherapy but rather a monoclonal antibody. The way we've had it explained to us is the cancer I had makes too much of a certain protein. This protein allows the cancer to multiply quicker and to "hide" from my immune system. The Herceptin attaches to this protein on the cancer cells slowing the growth of the cancer cells and essentially tagging the cancer cells so my immune system attacks and kills those cancer cells more effectively. My extreme exhaustion should slowly start to go away (although I was told it could take 5-6 months for this to completely resolve) and the discomfort in my body from the Taxol should begin to improve. There is no guarantee all this discomfort will go away, but it should improve over the next six months or so. Each Herceptin infusion should last only about 30 minutes, but then I have to be monitored for 30 minutes after every treatment. So each treatment with take about 1 to 1 1/2 hour, depending on how smoothly things go. The most difficult part of this treatment will honestly just be the inconvenience of having treatment every week and working our schedules around that. I was looking forward to having a Friday that didn't involve medicine, needles, and the hospital... I'm really going to enjoy that Friday when it comes 9 months from now!

Scheduled another surgery

I made a very hard phone call last week... I scheduled my reconstructive surgery at Mayo clinic for August 12th. I procrastinated making this phone call for days, and dreading having to make it for weeks. The reason? I'm just plain tired... tired of doctor appointments, tired of finding people to watch my kids, tired of organizing 6 people's schedules around my treatments, tired of pain. I debated long and hard before making this phone call, but finally I did it.

I nearly talked myself into waiting another year before pursuing reconstruction, but thankfully my husband reasoned me out of it, and I'm glad he did. He knows me well enough to know I will dread that process until it is done, so I will be a happier person to just.... well... get 'er done!

So surgery is scheduled for August 12th, pre-op appointment the day before. From everything I've read/heard this is a very painful procedure (more so then the mastectomies). On the far side, I know it will be so much nicer not having to deal with the prosthesis. Although, I spend a great deal of time not wearing my prosthesis. I find that wearing them irritates my scar from surgery and I still have a bunch of tender nerves from surgery that tend to ache from wearing the mastectomy undergarment. Also, when it is hot outside the prosthesis are just plain uncomfortable to wear. It boils down to the fact that I'm so over trying to look "normal" that a lot of times I just go flat chested.

I've also started getting hot flashes. Apparently, chemotherapy can throw women into a sort of menopause... more commonly referred to as chemopause. You get all the lovely symptoms of menopause and hot flashes showed up with a vengeance with me about three weeks ago. It is the oddest sensation... I can be happily comfortable and then "whoosh" it feels like someone lite a torch on the back of my neck. I can literally feel the sweat instantly start to form on my scalp. This is one of the few reasons I've had to be thankful to have lost my hair... I couldn't imagine going thru this with a full head of hair... I would be very tempted to shave my head! The next round of meds will continue this "chemopause" phase for about five years, and then more then likely I will be thrown out of "chemopause" into "normal" womanhood (which is good for me and my bone health, but not so good on the cancer front because of increased hormone levels), and then when my time comes, I get to go thru menopause with the rest of my lady friends. So no complaining to me about menopause, ladies... I have to do it twice! Just kidding... complain away... I can already relate on some level anyway. :-)

On the chemotherapy front, the cut of 10% on the Taxol made a huge difference in the neuropathy side effects. I've had a lot less numbness and pain in my feet and hands. I still have some numbness and pain, so I will be mentioning that to my Oncologist on Friday.