Getting My Mojo Back

This post may be an overshare, but I think the topic has been so egregiously underaddressed by the medical community that it’s important I share about my own experience.  Today I went to a very interesting workshop at a local store called Babeland.  Here’s the info I received about the workshop:

Babeland Brunch: Great Sex Post-Cancer
Sunday, March 01, 11:00AM, FREE!
Your sex life isn’t the first thing your doctor talks about when you are going through cancer treatment, though most people experience a lot of changes regarding their sexuality during this time. Chemotherapy and radiation can leave you feeling tired and irritable, or you may be experiencing lack of lubrication, changes in your erection, or loss of desire. We’ll share advice and suggestions to get you back to enjoying your body again, with or without a partner. Enjoy complimentary brunch snacks.

My girlfriend, Kristin, received word of the workshop and signed me up with her.  Kristin’s mom has recently battled breast cancer also, so Kristin decided to go to the workshop to take notes for her mom.  This workshop came at the perfect time, given my recent annual exam with Dr. Rothblatt.

I came to some serious revelations about the effect of chemotherapy on my body during my annual exam with Dr. Rothblatt.  I have had an annual exam with a gynecologist every year since I was 18.  The first time was very uncomfortable and weird, but after a while I got used to them.  Therefore, much to my surprise, this last annual exam was one of the most painful things I have endured in a while.  Dr. Rothblatt explained that chemo put my reproductive system down, which then decreased my estrogen levels pretty significantly.  As with women who are going through menopause (which technically, I am too) low estrogen levels lead to issues with – and don’t judge me for using an Oprahism — one’s vajayjay.  I was amazed that no one had had a conversation with me about this topic until now.  Granted, thankfully my cancer care team was more concerned with making sure I got through chemo, surgery, and overall treatment in one piece, but I feel like it is important to address this issue with any single woman going through this process.  Perhaps my cancer care team assumed I was not focused on having sex with anyone because they knew I had broken up with Alex shortly after my diagnosis.  And to be fair, I did not have sex on my mind at all leading up to and immediately after my mastectomies.  However, I can’t tell you how disconcerting it was to realize that attempting to have sex after my mastectomies would have been an extremely painful process.  Bear with me as I continue to overshare, but it’s not just lubrication — it’s overall elasticity too.  The former can be addressed with a trip to the local drugstore.  The latter requires personalized care and coordination with your medical team.

Working with Dr. Rothblatt and Dr. Pinder, I have been able to remedy most of the ”issues” with my vajayjay brought on post-chemo the same way menopausal women deal with these issues.  Other women in my situation, attached or single, need to ask appropriate questions of their medical providers because these issues are seriously underaddressed.  Don’t be afraid to ask.

So back to the workshop I attended.  It was one of the most helpful things I’ve attended since my diagnosis.  As part of a graduate program at the University of Washington, Shannon, the woman who organized and put on the workshop spent the last 12 weeks studying women and their sexuality after breast cancer treatment.  In preparing her presentation for Babeland, she expanded her talk to include men’s sexuality post-cancer.   Shannon had a lot of interesting and helpful suggestions of how to deal with the problems surrounding sex after cancer.  Lots of mental exercises, exercises to strengthen your PC muscles (for women), suggestions that involve hardware, and of course a recommendation to work with your medical providers.  She also shared two amazing book resources I’ll list here:

Intimacy After Cancerby Dr. Sally Kydd and Dana Rowett: http://www.intimacyaftercancer.com/

Better Than I Ever Expected by Joan Price: http://www.joanprice.com/BetterThanExpected.htm

Shannon mentioned that her research and experiences talking to women in my situation have prompted her to write a book on this topic.  I hope she does.  Hopefully, with more information out there, patients and their doctors will be more likely to have comfortable, candid, and honest discussions about sexuality after cancer.

So for today’s soundtrack, I leave you with yet another song about mojo: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FhTCYqJsfqs.

Chemo Treatment #16: Hallelujah, No More Chemo & Further Reflections about Dr. Paige

Chemo:         Taxol

Treatment:    #12 of 12 of Taxol

Companions:  Gary Gould & Jackie Schultz

Time:            3:40 p.m.

Holy shit.  I am done with chemo.  I am DONE with chemo.  I AM DONE WITH CHEMO!!!  Sorry to yell in this blog post.  I’m just excited.  Well, I should be honest.  I’m excited, but not nearly as excited as I think I should be.  I really don’t think I’m processing this all the way.  I feel like I should be bouncing off the walls screaming to the hills, but I’m not.  Dr. Pinder was a little surprised by how calm I was during today’s appointment.  I think she was expecting me to be more animated and enthusiastic.  I suspect it will really hit me when it’s next Monday and I don’t have to go to Virginia Mason at all.

Mr. Gary Gould picked me up and accompanied me today; Jackie joined us later; and then Heather, Lance, Jackie, Gary, and Marshall joined me for dinner at Tamarind Tree.  Chemo was totally uneventful today.  I experienced pain in my feet today and late yesterday, but I think it was from being on my feet all day on Saturday and Sunday.  I helped cater for a wedding on Saturday, went dancing in flip flops Saturday night, and then attended the wedding reception all day on Sunday in heels.  Dr. Pinder was comfortable in my assessment that the pain I am experiencing in my feet was not a resurgence of the peripheral neuropathy I experienced a couple weeks ago.  So I had the full dose of Taxol today.  My last treatment.

I shared with Dr. Pinder my interaction with Dr. Paige last Tuesday.  She was definitely distressed and perhaps a little mad.  It was very weird to see Dr. Pinder anything but super happy and positive.  A few additional notes about my interaction with Dr. Paige that now, thinking about it more, has me a bit more miffed than when I blogged last.  First, there is no difference in prognosis between a mastectomy and a lumpectomy.  I have been advised that the longitudinal studies show that women who have had lumpectomies are just as likely to survive 5, 10, 15, 20+ years after their surgery as women who have had mastectomies.  Now the analysis changes if I am genetically predisposed to having breast/ovarian cancer, but Dr. Paige didn’t ask about my genetic test results before making comments about my chosen course of treatment.  Also, not noted in my last blog entry is that he tried to push the mastectomy on me by telling me, “all I would lose is nipple sensation.”  Without getting into the fact that I may lose much more than nipple sensation (e.g. a female sexual organ, my identification as a woman, my sense of beauty), I replied by saying that I would like to conserve my ability to breast feed.  Dr. Paige replied, “Well, a child should also have a parent who is alive, right?” 

Dr. Paige’s lack of appropriate bedside manner bothers me for two main reasons.  The first reason is that Dr. Paige gave me a lot of his opinion about my cancer care, not the reconstruction, but my care as a cancer patient.  This is totally inappropriate, as it could have emotionally sabotaged the plan I had decided on with my cancer care team.  I mean, he may be a successful and very talented reconstruction plastic surgeon, but the mofo is not an oncologist.  The second observation that bothers me is how shitty his ultimate bedside manner was with me.  I mean, I’m a cancer patient in the middle of chemo, and although I don’t need pity, I definitely would have appreciated a bit more respect for my current struggle and the decisions I have come to after struggling with all the information presented to me.  Highlighting death is not what I need.  I was pretty depressed for several days after my meeting with Dr. Paige and I still get a bit teary-eyed when I think about the conversation.  

I was blessed to have had my bi-weekly therapy session (I’ve been in therapy during this process to help me deal with the emotional battle I’ve been fighting to keep sane during my treatment) the day after meeting with Dr. Paige.  Over an entire box of kleenex, I explained to my therapist that I was having a problem thinking about the concept of death, which is just not an option in my mind.  She explained that it’s a good thing that death hasn’t been an option in my mind — that I have contextualized my battle in a way that is most healthy to me.  I know that cancer kills, but dwelling on that issue does not help my fight.  It’s not like I’m going to change my course of treatment just because I’m thinking more about death.  Quite the opposite, I got more depressed and wanted to make choices not very helpful to me or my health — I had problems getting out of bed; I almost cancelled appointments at work because I didn’t want to get out of bed; I wanted to eat a lot of fast food and sweets, which thankfully I didn’t succumb to; and my condo, which was in great shape after last weekend, is now again in disarray.  My therapist really encouraged me to disregard Dr. Paige’s non-reconstruction-related comments, focus on communicating more with my cancer care team regarding my cancer care treatment, and get back to my overall positive attitude, which has fueled many if not all of the positive health changes in my life.

I think I’m over the sadness and anger I experienced after my meeting with Dr. Paige.  I can’t remember if it was Jackie or Erin who suggested that I write Dr. Paige a letter detailing my experience in as positive a manner as possible while still being honest with constructive criticism.  Lance today made the observation that I should probably write the letter to Dr. Paige only if I intended to switch plastic surgeons.  Perhaps good advice. 

Whatever the case is, with a reconstruction date out in the future (that is, if I decide to have one), I need to spend some time being happy to be done with chemo, continuing to getting better, mentally prep for my surgery (whatever it ends up being), and just enjoying life.  After talking to my Dad about my experience with Dr. Paige and being forced to envision death, he shared with me something he had never shared with me before about the moment immediately before my Mom died.  He was called into the hospital room because my Mom’s blood pressure was dropping drastically, and the doctors knew the end was near.  Talking to my Dad, she mentioned that she couldn’t “grumble” because at 42 she had lived a good life.  Who can say that?  I mean, WTF???  Here I am, bitching about how the reality of facing death is difficult and depressing because I think about all the shit I haven’t done.  How about taking a lesson from Mom and thinking about all the amazing things I have done and then making it a point to live every fucking moment as if it were my last — continue to do as many exciting and enjoyable things as possible and truly enjoy my amazing friends and family and the blessings bestowed upon me.  I know it’s cliche, but it’s true – I have food, shelter, and great company every day.  That’s much more than many people in our world have.  So there, shut up and start living life, people.  Life is a gift, so treat it that way.  Although cancer kills, so do cars, random acts of violence, and unfortunate natural disasters, to name a few.  The question is whether you’ll truly have cause to grumble when your time comes.

Chemo Treatment #15: Chemo Finish Line in Sight

Chemo:         Taxol

Treatment:    #11 of 12 of Taxol

Companions:  David Watkins

Time:            12:00 p.m.

Almost done.  One more and I am almost done. 

Today’s chemo treatment was longer than normal.  The doctor (Dr. Picozzi filled in for Dr. Pinder today) was approximately 30 minutes late and it took longer than usual for the nurses to retrieve the Taxol from the pharmacy.  David and I got out of the Virginia Mason a bit after 4:00 p.m.

Good news is that my peripheral neuropathy went away over the last week, so Dr. Picozzi suggested we go back up to full speed on my Taxol dose.  If the neuropathy returns, we’ll decrease the Taxol dose for my last treatment.  David was super cute today, checking in with me often about whether I was experiencing any neuropathy symptoms while I received today’s Taxol.  I explained to David that the last (and only) time I experienced any neuropathy symptoms was on a Sunday, at the end of the week. 

I had my last chemo treatment with Diane (my nurse) today, because she told me that she’ll be on vacation next Monday.  It will be weird not having Diane there for my last treatment.  I’ve gotten used to our sci-fi babble.  Hell, BSG is supposed to start again soon and it will be weird not to be able to debrief with Diane about Jaime Bamber.  I guess the bright side is that I won’t be receiving chemo anymore, right?

On another tangent, David and I ate lunch at Virginia Mason’s cafeteria before going to chemo, and I had a eye-opening moment at the sandwich bar.  I almost ordered the daily sandwich special – club sandwich on foccacia — but decided on a different sandwich after noticing that the sandwich bar had complete nutritional information for the special.  980 calories for just the freaking sandwich!!!  Thank you, Virginia Mason, for listing complete nutritional information for the food you serve.  I wish more places would have that information easily accessible.

But back to business.  I’m feeling ambivalent about coming to the end of this chemo journey.  I know I should be happy to be done with chemo, but I’ve been doing this for so long now, I’m not sure how I’ll process looking at my Outlook calendar without half of my day on Mondays blocked out.  It will be weird to enter the “hiatus” period where I just wait it out until my surgery and even weirder when I start radiation therapy, which will be every day.  Hopefully the each new stage will be as smooth as chemo has been.  I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

Chemo Treatment #14: Finally, Some Bad (or at The Very Least Eyebrow-Raising, If You Have Eyebrows) News & Unexpected Blessings

Chemo:         Taxol

Treatment:    #10 of 12 of Taxol

Companions:  none

Time:            3:40 p.m.

I was just having a discussion with Erin about how it’s better to live life in the moment rather than wait for the other shoe to drop.  If there’s anything I’ve learned from this experience with Karla, it is to live in the moment and appreciate every moment that I am given to enjoy.  I have been cognizant of the known risks associated with the journey I’m on, but I haven’t dwelled on them.  I mean, there is just too much right now to experience, enjoy, and be thankful for.  That all said, it was actually slightly refreshing to discuss some questionable news today with Dr. Otero (who filled in for Dr. Pinder today while she’s on vacation for the next couple weeks).  It was a nice reminder that although I have been doing my best to live a superhuman life, I really am human.

I may have shared earlier that although the Taxol is generally easier on my body than that crazy Adriamycin/Cytoxin crap, some people on Taxol experience peripheral neuropathy (nerve damage).  Most people recover from initial peripheral neuropathy if caught early enough and dealt with, but for some people this condition will be permanent.  At its worst, people have difficulty walking because they can’t feel their feet and they have grip issues with their hands because they have lost strength.  During every chemo treatment, the first question my doctor asks me is whether I have experienced any tingling or numbness in my hands/fingers or feet/toes.  It’s one of the most dangerous side effects of the Taxol because it’s potentially permanent. 

Unfortunately, I had to tell Dr. Otero today that I started feeling some tingling in my feet last night.  While I was trying to get to sleep last night, I thought perhaps that I ran more than I should have last week or my hike that day was super harsh on my feet.  Then when I woke up today and the tingling sensation was still present, I realized that it was probably the Taxol finally catching up with me. 

As a result, Dr. Otero decreased my dosage of Taxol by a 1/4.  He assured me that decreasing my dosage today would not affect my prognosis because I’m so close to the end of treatment.  However, he also warned that if the tingling/numbness continues or gets worse, the doctors may have to decrease my dosage even more, stop me all together (I would then miss my last two chemo treatments), or switch me over to another chemo drug.  I’m still feeling a bit of tingling in my feet, so I’m taking it easy today and hoping that the tingling subsides.

I did find a medical abstract that made me giggle about today’s news.  Check it at: http://www.springerlink.com/content/b7288×7h8r837j27/.  Apparently, being vertically-challenged may have been one of the reasons why it took so long for me to experience any of this nerve damage crap!  Something to be thankful for, right?  Jesus, I never thought I’d be thankful for being a midget.

Then to end today’s chemo treatment, the nurse who was giving me my Goserelin shot (to protect my ovaries during chemo) gave me a local anesthetic (Lidocaine) but totally missed the area where the Lidocaine was given.  Diane, my usual nurse, was on vacation today, so I had a different nurse.  I was confused by what was going on and the pain I felt (I mean, what the hell happened to the Lidocaine?), so like an idiot it took me a while to say something to my nurse, who was very slowly shoving that large needle into my side.  I ended up just riding out the pain until the dang Goserelin shot was done.  Very shitty.  Thankfully, although I’ve dropped some weight, I still have a bit of a muffin top around my waist, so the “stabbing” wasn’t fatal.  I guess today is the day for unexpected blessings, as I never thought I’d be thankful for my muffin top!

Chemo Treatment #13: Work Craziness, Surgery Scheduling, Bad Hair, Fingernails Return, Planning Shea & Eric’s Wedding Reception, Prostitution Cha Cha Cha, and A Dumb Yellow

Chemo:         Taxol

 

Treatment:    #9 of 12 of Taxol

 

Companions:  Jackie Schultz

 

Time:            3:40 p.m.

 

And we watched sunset at Alki Beach. . . .  At least that’s how I ended my day before hitting the computer to draft this blog post.  Seriously, so much happened today, justifying the long ass title (which Jackie demanded for this blog post).

 

My appointment was late this afternoon, so I was able to spend most of the day at work before heading to chemo.  I know, I know — psycho Cat is back at her crazy schedule.  But I’m trying to financially sustain and bill as much as possible while I’m able.  I’m a bit scared of how long I’ll be off of work recovering from surgery and how radiation will affect my energy after surgery.

 

Now for good news — I’m now officially down to three more chemo treatments!  Whoo hoo!  I’m so close to the end of chemo that Dr. Pinder has alerted the Cancer Care Coordinator, Rita Kelly, to schedule my surgery.  I’m hoping that my surgery will be scheduled during the first week of September right after Labor Day.  My recovery time should be two weeks at the quickest, so I’ll be out of commission for a while.  But that’s just more time for me to devote to my blog, right? 

 

I had a few conversations with some doctors last week (including the Senior Genetic Counselor at Myriad) about my stupid inconclusive genetic test results to get more information about what surgery to have.  After debriefing with Dad and my therapist with all the options and conflicting information I received this week, I think I’m leaning toward a lumpectomy.  However, I’ll save that drama for the next blog post.

 

Jackie joined me for today’s chemo treatment, and we watched Shear Genius, the reality program on Bravo about hair stylists.  Not my favorite of the wonderful reality programming Bravo offers.  The episode we watched was all about up-dos.  Talk about drama.  Lemme go on the record to say that Jackie has committed to wearing an up-do with lots of curls at my wedding if and when I get married.  I just have to sedate her before her hair is done and have her escort wheel her down the aisle before she wakes up.  Heh heh.

 

My white blood cell count was down today, but Dr. Pinder confirmed that my fingernails are actually looking pretty good — apparently the A/C was harder on my nails than the Taxol has been.  Felicity mentioned last weekend that she thought my nails were looking better than the photos I posted not too long ago, and she was right!  Keep your fingernails crossed for me — I would love it if I keep mine!

 

After chemo, Jackie and I joined Shea and Eric to check out the venue for their upcoming wedding reception.  Very cool space along Alki Beach in West Seattle.  I believe Jackie, Shea, and Eric have decided on the layout for the event.  We also made strides on deciding on the menu.  It’s going to be a fun reception!

 

We all went to Bamboo Grill after checking out the reception space and sat outside to have our dinner and do some people watching.  With the water, the clear skies, and the sun setting in front of us, and with Bob Marley playing in the background, it actually felt a lot like home (Hawaii).  What made it feel even more like home were all the scantily clad hoochie mamas who kept going in and out of Bamboo Grill to have cigarettes.  As one particular ho-bag exited the restaurant in a micromini dress, super bleached blond hair, and tons of makeup on, Jackie whispered to me “Prostitution, cha cha cha.”  I just about died laughing.  For those of you who don’t know this reference – it’s from Beavis and Butthead.  Yep, Beavis and Butthead.  I proceeded to laugh like Butthead every time a ho-bag came to or left the restaurant.  Explaining the reference to Shea and Eric was just as funny.  Dang.  Perhaps the chemo hit me pretty hard today.

 

Actually, now I’m sure the chemo hit me pretty hard when I think about how catty I got (pun intended) at the end of the day right before the sun set.  We watched a short, skinny Asian dude set his alarm in his overpriced sports car which was parked on Alki right in front of where he and his similarly-yellow girlfriend were eating outside at Bamboo Grill.  Who needs to turn on a car alarm when your car is parked right in front of you?  WTF?  The internal sensor of the dude’s sports car was set off every time a large car drove by, which was often, given where we were at and how nice the weather was today.  And this dude proceeded to reset his alarm each time it went off.  Man, just dumb.

 

All in all, it was a very full day and very fun.  I feel like the good Seattle summer weather gives me more energy than I usually have!

 

Chemo Treatment #12: Accessing My Power Port & Steve Balmer Day

Chemo:         Taxol

Treatment:    #8 of 12 of Taxol

Companions:  Troy Sandal, Sven Liden, and Destiny Bassett

Time:            3:40 p.m.

 

I was lucky enough to have 2.5 companions today.  Sven and Troy, who recently completed the Seattle-to-Portland bike ride this weekend while the rest of us were at Floating Woman, were my men-in-waiting for today’s chemo treatment.  Destiny, who also biked the STP this weekend, walked up to Virginia Mason after work to join us for a bit before she and Sven headed home for a nap (I suspect burning 8000+ calories will do that to you).

 

Troy lives in San Francisco, and the last time he was in town he attempted to accompany me to chemo.  Unfortunately, that was the same trip that landed me in the ER, so he’s never actually seen me receive chemo.  Thankfully, it was that fated trip to the ER that finally started this blog! 

 

Whenever anyone new accompanies me to chemo, I make particular note of the process of “accessing” my Power Port.  You may recall that I had a Power Port (or central line) put in prior to starting chemo to make chemo treatments as easy as possible and so that I wouldn’t have a ton of track marks on my arms from having an IV started for each chemo treatment.  With my tech-savvy men-in-waiting, I was able to video this process to share with you:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ttZgtlWH8vE.  Pretty cool, huh?

 

The funniest part of today, however, was when Sven and Troy showed me their new haircuts.  Not only did they join the others who shaved their heads on Sunday at Floating Woman, but they went through extra lengths to insure that I wouldn’t be able to tell they shaved their heads until they were ready to unveil their surprise, sporting a Steve Balmer “do.”  They chose to do the unveiling while Dr. Pinder was in the treatment room with us.  Dr. Pinder was amused, but I think also a bit confused and perhaps even scared by the Steve Balmer dos, and here’s why:

Sven: http://www.flickr.com/photos/28443091@N03/2672931725/

Troy: http://www.flickr.com/photos/28443091@N03/2673750398/ 

Don’t be fooled by Sven’s photo, which makes him look like he may have a mohawk because he’s sitting in front of a mirror.  His haircut is really just as bad as Troy’s.  Thankfully, Troy and Sven fully shaved their heads later that evening so that we would be three bald peas in a pod:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/28443091@N03/2673750502/.  Missing from this photo is Mr. Gary Gould, who also shaved his head for me but who was sweet enough to take the photo for us.

 

Regarding my chemo treatment today, Dr. Pinder shared with me that my white blood cell count is almost back to “normal.”  She was pleased to report that I appear to be recovering quite well, despite the fact that I still have four more treatments to go.  Whoo hoo! 

 

Lotsa action today and even more good news.  I couldn’t be happier!

Chemo Treatment #11: Big Chortles

Chemo:         Taxol

Treatment:    #7 of 12 of Taxol

Companion:    Eza

Time:            3:40 p.m.

 

I was blessed enough to have Eza join me for this chemo treatment while she’s home.  For those of you who don’t know Eza, she works on a ship for several months out of the year, so I was very happy to have her with me today.

 

Prior to today’s chemo treatment, I had another ECG done to insure my heart wasn’t messed up by the Adriamycin/Cytoxin treatments.  Thankfully, the ECG results came back a-OK.  In fact, Dr. Pinder noted that my heart is actually in pretty tip-top shape, scoring a “74.”  Not sure what that numerical designation means, other than the fact that Dr. Pinder said the number corresponds with how much blood the heart pumps out and that healthy hearts score a “55″ at the bottom of the healthy range.  Pretty cool.

 

As expected, the actual chemo treatment today was pretty uneventful.  No new side effects or complications, no pneumonia (thank God), and nothing unusual about my labs (blood work).  One thing I noticed after today’s chemo treatment is that my rapid weight loss has started to slow down.  I’ve dropped about 15 pounds since chemo began, and I’m very happy with that trend.  Dr. Pinder said that my rate of weight loss is acceptable for now and that I might actually lose more weight after chemo concludes and I’m off of the steroids I’ve been prescribed as part of my treatment.  I’m actually at a point where I don’t fit most of my clothes anymore but am unwilling to invest too much in new clothes because: (1) I’m broke; and (2) I’m unsure what size I’ll be when all is said and done with treatment.  Those of you who know me well know that I have more than enough clothes stashed away in the back of my closet (perhaps even with tags on) that fit me.  They may be several seasons old, but they’ll fit me.  Thank God I’m a pack rat!

 

The other thing I’ve noticed from the last two chemo treatments is that although chemo appointments later in the day allow me to get into the office in the morning, my sleep schedule is affected because of when I take my steroids (dexamethasone).  I have to take the dexamethasone 12 hours before chemo and an hour before chemo, so with later appointments I have to take the dex right in the middle of the night.  Not that I have a typical sleep schedule anyway, given my hot flashes and other menopausal symptoms that disrupt my sleep, but it’s just one more thing that I need to deal with. 

 

Having Eza with me today was such a treat.  It was very amusing as we crossed our fingers as she attempted to drive Sunny (her huge Ford “Tonka Truck”) into Virginia Mason’s parking garage.  We now know that Sunny will fit in a garage with a clearance of 6′4″ . . . or was it 6′6″?  Dang, I better not chance it the next time I’m driving Sunny into a parking garage.  I was the last of the chemo patients today (we got out of there close to 6 p.m.) and my ECG was at 1 p.m., so Eza put in a full day to be my companion.  After chemo we went to Green Leaf for dinner, where we had amazing food and great discussion.  I ordered a tamarind soda, which I’d never had there before.  Good stuff. 

 

After dinner at Green Leaf, we made our way to Scott’s birthday gathering, and Eza mentioned that our day together wasn’t done — she was not going to leave me until she got two big laughs out of me.  This is exactly what makes my time with Eza so much fun — she never ceases to surprise me with unusual challenges, even if we’re just hanging out.  As she and I attempted to navigate toward Beacon Hill from Georgetown (I chose the wrong I-5 exit, which put is in Georgetown to begin with), I struggled with directions that I would usually be very apt at giving.  I apologized to Eza profusely, noting, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, usually I give very good directions,” to which Eza replied, “Perhaps it’s because you just had chemo?”  I know that doesn’t read super funny here in this blogpost, but I have to tell you, Eza’s comedic timing and intonation were brilliant in that moment.  I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.  Big Chortles.  The Merriam-Webster online dictionary defines “chortle” as:  1 : to sing or chant exultantly <he chortled in his joy — Lewis Carroll> 2 : to laugh or chuckle especially in satisfaction or exultation.  The more I think about it, the more I realize that this word screams “Eza.”  There is truly a healing power to laughter and good company, and with Eza I am blessed to have had both today.

Chemo Treatment #10: Going Solo

Chemo:         Taxol

Treatment:    #6 of 12 of Taxol

Companion:    None

Time:            2:00 p.m.

 

Chemo has become such a regular routine and the Taxol is so much easier on my system than the Adriamycin/Cytoxin, that I decided to go to chemo alone today.  I scheduled my next few chemo appointments later in the day so I can be in the office in the morning, and David is only available to accompany me if chemo concludes by 4 p.m., so today I decided to go solo.  Don’t get me wrong, there are many people who have offered to accompany me to chemo, but today I felt like going alone. 

 

It worked out well, given that the chemo itself was pretty uneventful.  I continued doing a ton of work while receiving chemo, which made the nurses (and anyone else walking by my treatment room) raise an eyebrow, but with no one with me today, it just felt like the thing to do.  Late afternoon TV programming is not as entertaining as daytime programming. 

 

This experience has taught me that I probably should have someone with me during chemo to distract me and save me from my tendency to fill my free time with work.  I recently had an interaction with opposing counsel in one of my cases regarding why I’ve been out of the office every Monday.  This attorney has been very pleasant with me throughout this case and we’ve worked pretty closely over the last year, so I shared with him that I have breast cancer.  His response was very sincere and empathetic, but I also sensed a bit of surprise.  I haven’t really put the brakes on at work since starting chemo, so I can see it being a surprise to my colleagues who don’t see me every day that I’m battling cancer right now.

 

Although my situation at work really sucks since I can’t take off any significant amount of time off, I feel like I have become a much tougher cookie than I thought I could be by having to work full time and fight Karla at the same time.  Add to that the fact that I ended my relationship with Alex shortly after receiving my diagnosis.  There have been moments where I really feel alone.  The solitude is sometimes unpleasant, but it definitely makes me stronger as an individual and builds my resolve to prevail in my battle with Karla.  In this context, my increased “alone time” has been very useful.

 

Despite this, I think I’m done with solo chemo treatments for a while.  Chemo is much more “fun” with a buddy.

Chemo Treatment #9: Feeling Like Ironman

Chemo:         Taxol

Treatment:    #5 of 12 of Taxol

Companion:    Sven Liden

Time:            8:30 a.m.

 

Sven was able to join me for today’s chemo treatment, which was great, because if there is anyone I know who is pleasantly distracting, it is Sven.

 

Early morning appointments usually start on time, and this morning was no exception.  I was in-and-out pretty quickly.  Since my pneumonia scare, my body has acclimated well to the Taxol, so my chemo appointments are going a bit quicker. 

 

With Dr. Pinder today, I addressed a few key issues about my reproductive health that have been on my mind.  I’ve been worried about the prospect of getting pregnant in the future, given my inconclusive genetic test results and the fact that Karla is estrogen-positive.  It’s my understanding that pregnancy makes your hormones go through the roof and fluctuate pretty dramatically, so it’s been my fear that pregnancy may bring on secondary breast cancer for me.  Dr. Pinder put much of my fears to rest by informing me that my fears are unsupported in the known literature and that studies suggest getting pregnant may actually “help” me dodge a secondary cancer “bullet” in the future.  Dr. Pinder noted that under usual circumstances, I will be on a course of Tamoxifen for the next 5 years after my treatment concludes to insure Karla stays away.  However, if I intend to get pregnant, she said the course can be shortened to 2-3 years.  As most of you know, I had my eggs harvested prior to starting chemo and was able to freeze seven eggs, so I’m very happy that I didn’t freeze them in vain.

 

After chemo I had to go into the office to get a motion out the door, so Sven hung out in downtown for a bit while I finished up work.  What should have been a 30-minute job became a half-day’s worth of billing – once partners noticed I was in the office, I was handed several “emergency” projects.  Go figure.  Patient Sven hung around so that he and I could go see Ironman in the theater (neither of us had seen it yet).  We then joined up with Destiny, Gary, and Heather for dinner at Serious Pie, Tom Douglas’ new pizza joint next to Dahlia Lounge.  Good pie.  Shwanky and a bit on the pricier side, but good.

 

On the heels of the great news I received from Dr. Pinder about my reproductive options in the future, I really did feel like Ironwoman today (or “Ironperson,” to be gender neutral).  Prior to this experience I really didn’t know whether I wanted kids.  It’s funny that when faced with the reality that this process may take away my ability to have kids, my decision about having kids became a lot more concrete.  I realize that I may never have kids in the future — no partner in crime to “facilitate” the baby-making, not enough financial stability to make me feel comfortable enough to have kids, problems with my seven frozen eggs, problems with conceiving, etc. — but just the knowledge that I still have a chance really sets my mind at ease.  I suspect I will sleep better tonight.

Chemo Treatment #8: Karla’s On Her Way Out!

Chemo:         Taxol

Treatment:    #4 of 12 of Taxol

Companion:    David Watkins

Time:            11:40 a.m.

 

So today would have been just as uneventful as my last chemo treatment, but for the fact that Dr. Pinder decided to “inspect” Karla to see how she’s reacting to the chemo.  She did an informal breast examination and almost jumped up in glee as she reported to me that Karla is almost undetectable by touch!  Remember — Karla was pretty big when we found her (4.7 x 0.2 x 0.2 cm).  Dr. Pinder was ecstatic, as I have 8 more chemo treatments.  She’s convinced Karla may be fully undetectable (but for the clip they put in her to mark her before I started chemo) by the time I’m done with chemo.  She’s very pleased with how well I’m responding to treatment.

 

This good news makes my surgery dilemma much more present in my mind, as Dr. Pinder tells me that they will likely start looking at the schedule for my surgery when I’m two weeks before the conclusion of chemo, which will be in mid-August.  For those of you to whom I haven’t spoken to in a while, I am still struggling with whether to have a lumpectomy or a mastectomy.  You all know that my genetic tests came back inconclusive, so I’m unsure if I have a genetic mutation that predisposes me to a recurrence of cancer.  If I do, the stats are absolutely frightening.  I would have a 27%-44% chance of developing ovarian cancer (remember that hereditary breast and ovarian cancer are linked) and a 48%-64% chance of second primary breast cancer (Karla returns).  With those odds, a mastectomy sounds like a better option, right?  Nonetheless, initially I thought to myself — why take such drastic measures for what is ultimately the unknown?  Even if I assume for the sake of argument that I do have the genetic mutation, I may be in the lucky set of the mutants who does NOT develop ovarian or second primary breast cancer.  And even if I am unlucky and develop another cancer, why not cross that bridge when I actually get there?  Then the shit hit the fan with my office and I realized that I do not want to go through this process again.  I can’t imagine having to work full-time while going through treatment again.  I’m just not sure I have the mental or emotional strength to face the shitty reality that I’m in now for a second time around.  I told David today that I think I need to look for a Sugar Daddy real soon . . . .

 

For now I feel like I have a bit of time to ponder, but I’m fearful that I’m in denial and I’m just procrastinating confronting the real question of deciding on the next step.  I’m gonna blink my eyes and chemo will be over and I will have to face the reality of having to decide how much of my breast I want to lose in exchange for a roll of the dice as to whether I’m right back at square one again in the future.  Shitty.  Just a shitty choice to make.