Happy Graduation to Me

Friday, June 20 marked my graduation from the Radiation Therapy at the hosptial.

6 1/2 weeks over in the blink of an eye.

I got my certificate of completion signed by ’my’ team:  Steph, Maureen, Ann, Marie, Cheryl, Kelly, Sasha, and of course the good doctor.

While I am a bit unsure about the next phase of this journey – close follow-ups, anxiety around mammograms and other tests, and the feeling of waiting for the possible shoe to drop – I am very happy to have graduated and to have made it this far.

Now I can worry about other things, like why my almost 1 year old has stopped sleeping through the night.

1/2 Way Thoughts

Friday marked the half way point in my 6 1/2 week- long radiation treatment for breast cancer (DCIS).

An important milestone.

Things are going well with the treatment.  The skin under my left arm is turning a bit brown/red and there is a small area that looks like rash.  This rash is probably my fault.  During the initial consultation with a nurse, you are told not to shave your armpits.  Yet, 3 days into treatment I went and shaved.  It is short-sleeve season after all.  I remember thinking in the shower that my skin looked fine, it didn’t feel any different, so what would one more shave hurt?

The other side effect that I was told to expect is tiredness.  I laughed then (in the office) and I laugh now, because if I could list the number of things in my life that make me tired these days I would be rich woman.  One of the Waiting Room Ladies, I think it was the Lady who Cares for Her 90 Year Old Father, had warned me that the special radiation tiredness was the kind that you feel in your bones.

The scheduling of childcare has gone pretty well for the last few weeks with only 1 minor glitch – my husband getting into a car accident (he is fine) on his way home from work on the day he is scheduled to pick up the girls.  For the record, he would have still picked them up, but I figured I could climb out of my sweatpants and off the couch just as easily.  I am grateful that we live near family who are willing to help us out and watch our girls while I am at the hospital.

I have noticed the reappearance of peanut M&Ms in my daily diet.

*Not a symptom the nurse told me to expect, but I felt it in my bones and knew it was imminent.

The New Girl

Today when I went to radiation there was a full house in the waiting room. Three of the women – Lady Who Loves Her Wine, Lady Who Cares for Her Ailing 90 Year Old Father, and Lady Who ‘Loves Her Dog More Than Any Man She Has Ever Met’ (her words), and the New Girl.

The new girl came in, bald head and johnny fluttering. They make us strip from the waist down prior to going into the room with the big arm and the flat hard table that administers the radiation. Generally the waiting room has the air of an informal gathering of friends. A club that no one wants to be in. Today we were discussing diet changes made or not made in lieu of our cancer diagnosis.

The New Girl was sad and told us so. She was sick of having no hair. Sick of coming to the hospital, and sick of not being at to work. She was sick of being out in public and having to face the stares. She was sick of this life and just wanted her old life back. The tears started to come.

Lady Who Loves Her Dog Best was called for her turn by the tech and reached out to touch the new girl’s shoulder on her way out of the waiting room.

“Stay strong.”

What Would I Look Like Without Hair?

Not so hot.  That much I know.   I have quite a large noggin and believe you me, hats just don’t fit.  I would certainly have to be a scarf wearer during treatment.  I thank my lucky stars for the 300th time that I am ONLY doing radiation.  No bald scalps in my immediate future, just a red chest and hairy armpits.

I have just spent the last 3 1/2 hours at the hosptial meeting with doctors and taking a tour of the resource room and peace garden.  Everyone is super smiling nice and to be hontest it is kind of creepy, like a cult.

In a weird way I feel more able to complain about my struggles with infertility than about the fact that I have breast cancer.  And cancer could mean life or death, not just about how you are going to build your family.

 

Clean Margins

If infertility, POF, a part-time job outside the home, and a very full-time job inside the home juggling the ups and downs of two children wasn’t enough, the big man upstairs decided to throw one more monkey wrench in my 35th year of life – breast cancer.

In December I was diagnosed with DCIS (Stage 0) breast cancer.  In January I had my first surgery.  Friday at 5pm, my doctor calls with the results.  The margins aren’t clean.   In March I was back on the table again.  Still no luck.  The margins still aren’t clean.  And then finally, just last Wednesday, the third time proved to be a charm because I got the happy word today.  CLEAN MARGINS!

Never thought I would say the following words with such glee but, “I can’t wait for radiation!”