The Break Up

I had to have an MRI of my chest because Dr. Lee couldn't quite tell what was happening with the tumor in the breast. The result of the MRI is good news! The MRI could not pick up any visible spots on my liver, nor could it detect any cancer in the lymph nodes. Best of all, it seems that the tumor in the breast is breaking up into smaller pieces. Dr. Lee described it like a meteor hitting the earth's atmosphere and breaking into smaller meteorites. Nice huh?

Every bit of good news must be coupled with not so good news. My body is unable to handle 3 week treatments any more. After 7 months of poison killing my blood as soon as my body can make it I'm just not able to rebound well enough to make the 3 week treatment possible. However, since the treatments are going so well, Dr. Lee doesn't think that it would do too much harm to just push them out to every 4 weeks. It'll give my body time to recover and hopefully I'll be able to be consistent.

When it rains, it just rains

The results of my CT scan were very good. Of the many cancerous spots on my liver, only two remain and they're quite small. Woohoo for my liver! Herceptin is indeed a wondrous drug if it can get these kinds of results. Even if my heart is a little taxed by the medicine it's great to see my liver looking practically normal. However, the results of my CT scan were also…questionable. That is, the doctors cannot quite figure out what is going on in my breast, and I will need to have an MRI so they can have a more in-depth look at it. Hopefully the results of the MRI will be available this Friday when I'm back at the doctor's office for Round 9 of treatment.

Treatment Update...well, life update really

I'm so busy at work that I haven't had time for posting. Gasp! We've hired a part-time assistant to help me out a bit, so I'm spending much of my free time training her. Anyway, I've no news to report on the treatment front other than things went as expected. Actually, let me amend that...things in Dr. Lee's office have not been right the last couple of treatments. There's always a long wait and sometimes it seems that the right hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing. It is irksome to say the least, but I really like and respect Dr. Lee.

5mm Spots

The results of my last CT scan are in and the news is still very good. All of the small tumor spots on my liver are reduced to 5mm or less (some were as high as 10mm). The mass in my breast is still visible, but not to the naked eye. Woo hoo! The last round of treatment went off without a hitch, and all of my blood counts were within normal range. After weeks of resistance I finally agreed to try Priolosec for my acid reflux and the recovery is going much better. Serves me right for being stubborn.

My Doctor Skips

It's been one week and I'm recovering from treatment quite well actually. I'm starting to get into a rhythm with this thing. Since I know how my body reacts I can preempt some of the more unpleasant aspects of chemo. Of course, I still need a great deal of nursing in the days immediately following treatment and I am very lucky to have so many people eager to lend a hand. The treatments themselves are very dull and only tolerable because of the people who take me to them and keep me company. However, two interesting things did happen this time around: it snowed and Dr. Lee skipped. I know neither of these events is truly newsworthy, but they did make me smile and that's really all that matters. I don't recall why Dr. Lee skipped out of the room, but I think perhaps he was just possessed by a fit of whimsy. His ability to find some humor in an otherwise bleak and depressing environment is one of the reasons I like him so well. That's how I've tried to deal with the cancer...with as much humor as possible.

Too Early to Celebrate?

The results of my follow-up CT scan were very good. The change in the size of the breast mass is amazing. There is also some noticeable change in the liver but not nearly as dramatic. Maybe I should post pictures. Then again maybe not. The pictures are kind of creepy, but seeing the results of these horrible treatments is reassuring. I feel like celebrating. It might be premature of me to celebrate but I need to celebrate something in order to keep a positive outlook. All the more reason for the Seahawks to win the Superbowl.

My Hair is Gone

When my hair started falling out I was dismayed. It meant I couldn't hide my condition from the world anymore. I was particularly concerned with how all the patients at work would respond to seeing me suddenly bald. It was going to cause a great deal of concern and interest, and I wasn't sure I could handle it. I tried cutting it short to begin with, but that didn't last long. It was thinning so badly, and I kept finding my hair everywhere. I lost about 1/3 of my hair when I was in high school due to a medication I was taking for my seizures and it was extremely upsetting then. My hair thinned, but it was never as dramatic as it has been this time around. Back then I kept it in a pony tail and put on a hat (I even had special permission to wear my hat in class). Despite my reservations, once I had made the decision that my hair had to go I felt at peace. So one night I asked Peter to shave it all off. I only cried a little, but I honestly don't know why because I didn't feel upset that it was gone. Now I'm all buzzed and I've got some great scarves to wear at work and when I go out. I get stares, particularly because I'm so young, and lots of people ask lots of questions that I didn't expect them to ask. I'm going to have to get used to it I guess, especially at work. Norton enforces his company policy of "no such thing as a bad day" with an iron fist. Even before my diagnosis I'd been reprimanded for not being cheerful enough. He also has a policy of making our patients feel so welcome that they think of us as friends. So not only do I have to be cheerful despite what I'm going through, the patients that do in fact think we're "friends" don't hesitate to ask what I feel are rather personal questions. Dr. Norton didn't ask me to keep the truth from the patients, but I know he was relieved when I told him that I wouldn't let them know how serious it was. It would be just too difficult to try to remain upbeat and cheerful while explaining how dire my health really is. So I tell them that it was caught early and my doctors expected me to go into complete remission.