Whether this was done purposefully or not, the Doctor’s gave me a glimmer of hope after my diagnosis (but prior to surgery) that I may not even need chemo. What a thought. Part of me thinks they said that just to take my mind off it and live in positivity land for a while. I’ll never know. But if that is the case, then I suppose I’m ok with it. I did live in a nice state of bliss for a while, holding so tight to that glimmer of hope. I wasn’t careless with my thoughts though, I knew there was a good chance chemo was around the corner, but man was it a nice feeling to know that the possibility of no chemo existed.
The state of bliss got me nicely through my surgery and recovery. I was feeling good and the next steps were uncertain, which was a nice feeling. If I let myself, I was able to picture getting out of this free of that second evil C word, and all would be good. The certainty of chemo would have for sure drained my spirit during that rough time of recovery, so I’m thankful the unfortunate truth was held off for a while.
On March 20th I went back to see the Doctors. I was 2 weeks out of surgery and recovery had been great so far. As soon as you’re up though, cancer pulls you back down. There it was, straight from the Doctor’s mouth – You need chemo. Here’s the thing, it’s not necessarily mandatory, and they can’t force you to do it, but when you hear that the chances of the cancer coming back is upwards of 40%-50% without the chemo, you’re seeing it as the only option. They had discovered in my pathology report (post-surgery report of the tumour and tissue they removed), that my tumour was grade III. While it was Stage II, which represents how far along the cancer is, the grade ranks the differentiation of the cells within the tumour. The more abnormal the cells are, the higher the grade. Grade III is the highest, so first strike against me. They also found two additional tumours, too small to have been felt, but nonetheless, two more tumours – second strike against me. Then, while the cancer hadn’t spread to my lymph nodes, it had entered into my lymphascular system, meaning it was on its way – third strike against me. If I had caught it earlier would it have gotten this far? – maybe not. If I had gone in for that ultrasound right when I felt the lump, would it have gotten this far? – possibly, but maybe not. Let’s not go there though.
C is for Cancer but C is also for Chemo – it’s like two evil villains fighting one another.
So chemo it is. What a drag.
I went home and I cried. Am I going to lose myself in this? Am I going to feel so shitty that I'll be in bed for 5 or more days? What about my healthy body I worked so hard on? Will I have to start from scratch when this is all said and done? How many of my favourite things am I going to have to give up, and for how long? Will I get it all back? . How many birthday party's, trips, weddings, nights out, weekends away am I going to miss - because I'll just feel so shitty. UGH..... double UGH..... triple UGH.
This may sound weird, but I look down at my body every so often and just want to apologize to it. Not that it’s my fault that I got Breast Cancer, but that I feel so sorry for it. It has been such a great one for 29 years. It hasn’t gotten into any trouble, caused me any issues, it works hard when I need it to, and it looks great. Other than this cancer in my breast, I am extremely healthy – my body has pulled through with flying colours. But now I have to go and put this chemical cocktail into it and make it suffer. It doesn’t deserve that.
R.I.P Hair
I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror for the rest of the day. Any glance at my hair made me too upset. I love my hair, it’s one (or it’s THE) best asset of mine (in my opinion). It grows like a weed so the length has always been extreme, it’s curly which I love (even though I primarily wear it straight – I figure the world can’t handle the beach curls), and it can take on any hairstyle. The length right now is about to reach my butt – probably would need one or two more months to get there. If I had to guess, it’ll take me about 3-4 years to get it back to this length now. I’ll be mid 30’s by then….. my prime years wiped away with pixie cuts, awkward lengths, bobs, etc. Out of all the things I’ll have to deal with, this one is up there.
Losing my hair is one of the aspects of this “situation” that I just cannot put a positive spin on, or find any sort of silver lining – and I’ve accepted the fact that I either won’t find one, or don't plan on trying to find one. I'm sorry to everyone out there who appreciates my ability to be positive about all of this. There really just isn’t anything that I can go on here. It plainly sucks. No, I do not see it as “fun” to try different wigs on. No, I do not find it “fun” to go through different hairstyles as it grows out. I have one hairstyle – long beautiful hair. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate everyone’s attempt at helping me accept this fate of mine, and I also appreciate that other people totally rock the short hair and it really suits them. But there is a difference in rocking something and actually liking it yourself. So yeah, the hair positivity is off the table.
Finding Solace
That night I spent probably 3 hours (while ugly girl crying) just searching through Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, you name it, trying to find someone, anyone, I could relate to who was going through this currently or who had now recovered and I could be motivated and encouraged by them. When you think of Breast Cancer you don’t think of a 29 year old who is in the prime of her life. While I’m not discounting the difficulty that older women have to endure through cancer, it’s different for a younger person who hasn’t built up a foundation for their life yet. I’m only 6 years into the workforce, I don’t have kids yet – so fertility is a major concern, these are the years I’m supposed to have fun and be free and continue to find myself, and I had counted on a long life ahead of me. All I wanted to find on the sites was just one success story that I could gain comfort from. It was making me scared that it took so much effort to fine one.
Since then, I thankfully have been able to find and talk to a handful of inspiring women who are either survivors and are encouraging by how well they have recovered, and/or also women who are a ways ahead of me in treatment and are taking it in strides, but whom I can learn from of what their struggles are and how they cope with them. I only hope I can follow in their footsteps and kick this cancer to the curb to come out of this on top, the same way they have.
Fertility Revisited
Through my surgery and recovery, I hadn’t really thought more about fertility preservation. It was nice to have it off my mind for a while, being that it had caused me so much stress before. However when I visited the oncologist and he told me chemo was the real deal, he encouraged me to reconsider it, or at least revisit my thoughts on it. Ugh, this again eh. Well fortunately time was on my side now since you are required to wait a minimum of 6 weeks post-surgery to start chemo (your body needs to time to heal before chemo demolishes your immune system). So I did have enough time to do the fertility preservation, recover, and have time to decompress and relax prior to chemo. Ok, fine - let’s do it.
I spent two weeks playing nurse and giving myself daily self-injections. I discovered the wimp inside of me when it comes to needles. On the first one, I lined up the needle and shut my eyes while I did it. Turns out, it’s not all that bad - or maybe I was destined to be a nurse in another life. I thankfully did not have much of any side effects throughout the injection period - #win. I was feeling pretty good, I even started up my post-surgery yoga. Things were great.
Fast forward 10 days to the retrieval date….. UMMM so that SUCKED. Let’s just put it this way, if people had been totally honest and transparent with me about how painful it was going to be, I MIGHT not have done it......But thankfully now it is done and over with and I have some little eggies that will patiently wait for me in the sub-zero temperatures. I mean, I’m glad I did it, yes, but man did that suck. I’m day 5 post the retrieval and I finally feel back to normal, thank goodness! Mad respect for all women that go through with that. Geez, the things us women have to endure – men don’t.even.KNOW.
Green Light – YAS!
Soooooooo the Oncologist gave me a green light to take a short vacay prior to starting chemo. You bet I’m taking advantage of that. My sister, RuthAnne, and I are off to Tulum Mexico on Tuesday for a short but sweet 4 night stay, full of sunshine, beach, yoga, good food, and relaxation. Just what the Doctor ordered.
I am really thankful I can do this! It’ll be my last trip before the evil C starts to take over, and my last trip for a long while with my long beach curls! I’ll be rocking them FOR SURE.
I’ll be back from the sunshine on Saturday, not at all ready to start chemo, but at least a little more “cheery” than I would have otherwise been. So that’s something, I guess :)
So Ciao for now!!
P.S. – A Well Deserved Thank You
I wanted to a minute and give a much deserved thank you and shout out to all of the Doctors and nurses for all of their amazing dedication and commitment to what they do and how totally great they have been through this experience so far.
My Surgeon Tulin Cil is so talented and she did such an incredible job on my Lumpectomy, moving the tissue around in such a way that without the scar, you might not even know that I had it. I am really happy with the result!
The team at Princess Margaret is everything you’d want in a care team. I am so thankful that I am under their wings. They have made this experience so much better than it could otherwise be. So from the bottom of my heart – Thank you!!
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