Natural Highs, Liquid Lows

I walked miles and miles last week. One day, I walked from the cancer agency, across Cambie Bridge, along the seawall where all the Concord Pacific condos are, all the way to English Bay. I sat there for a while, waiting for DH to come join me. About two hours as a matter of fact, but he got caught up in the office. It wasn't exactly warm outside, but there were moments of sunshine here and there, and I watched people fly kites and do tricks. I watched people walk their dogs. I watched leaves flying around. Here's the view I had:






And here's the bench I sat on. There's something magical about memorial benches.





I want to do more physical activity, but I find myself getting tired more quickly, especially on one of my long walks. I feel the need to nap more. And yeah, I shouldn't be drinking alcohol like I'm accustomed to. I did that on Saturday night with DH, his sister and her husband at Parkside restaurant, and I was paying for it all night long. You know how these prescriptions say not to drink alcohol while taking the drugs: I forgot to pay attention to that. I had a really awful, painful pukefest all night. I hate not being normal.

Today, we're meeting with the oncology surgeon again. Hopefully, this time around, she has our info and will have a more informative meeting with us. I actually got a copy of my chart on Friday just so there are no excuses. I remembered that DH's brother had to get his chart to make sure about the situation because when you have to deal with so many doctors and specialists and their staff, something is always bound to get lost in the cracks. So it was a good idea to get the chart.

This week I also have an ECG, an ultrasound and a core biopsy. Next week I start the new chemo. Fun.

Home

My parents just began their trek back to their home in Pennsylvania. They were staying with us these past two months to help out and be with the kids. Instead of crawling back into bed, I'm finding myself wide awake, feeling a simultaneous emptiness and relief by them going home.

I haven't really talked about them being here all that much on this blog; they kinda melted into everyday life. But I think that what kind of support, as I mentioned before, one has during cancer treatments plays a big role in the quality of life. As an example, last night I was snug as a bug in a rug when Dude sat beside me in bed, reading up on some of my breast cancer books. I felt warm that he was becoming informed about what we're going through, and even though I had a splitting headache, I managed to fall asleep as he rubbed my back while reading.

My parents, especially my mom, are understandably big worriers. My mom sometimes takes it to a whole new level all her own, where she talks herself into a chaotic frenzy; it's no surprise she has high blood pressure. So while she was cleaning and keeping care of the kids, she filled the air with, let's say, musicality and colour.

It's nice to have my house back to myself. That's honestly what I was looking forward to for some time. Of course, that means having the cleaning all to myself; the changing poop diapers all to myself; etc. But I miss having control over how my house is maintained, even though my mom always does an impeccable job. After all, she did raise me, and I got a lot of my anality for cleanliness from her. So my internal fight for the vacuum was an issue.

They want to come back right away. I want them to stay away for a little while. I want to reclaim my space and see how I'm able to live my life without my parents taking care of me. I want to be a grown-up for a bit again.

Having three generations under one roof is both wonderfully supportive and sometimes suffocating. At the moment, this very moment, I'm not sure which way to breathe.

Frankenboob

It's almost Halloween, which I find fitting for talking about my possible reconstruction surgery. Dude and I met with the plastic surgeon this morning bright and early at 7:00. I'm not sure if there's a difference in the terms "plastic surgeon" vs. "cosmetic surgeon" but I always preferred the latter because I like to think of the whole thing as getting pretty rather than being handled like Tupperware. But it seems that the term "plastic surgeon" is used more often. Anyway, I'm leaning toward having a bilateral mastectomy (meaning, both boobs will be whacked) with a tram flap reconstruction. Why bilateral? Well, I have to talk more with the oncology surgeon before I make a final decision, but from what I've read, the recurrence of cancer for someone like me (without getting into what "someone like me" means) is not completely unlikely. That's not to say that if I get a bilateral mastectomy that I can't get breast cancer again either. Breast cancer can come back in scar tissue as well. But as with stuff like this, we're always speaking a language of chances.

A tram flap reconstruction is where they take the tissue and muscles from the abdomen and reconstruct the breast. So rather than using implants, I'm using my own tissue--and I get a tummy tuck in the process. The big downside is that it's way more complicated to do it this way, the recovery time is longer, and I won't be able to do sit-ups ever again. Darn.

It's kinda freaky to think that my stomach could become my boobies. I should have asked the surgeon if that means I should be pigging out like hard fucking core, but I didn't. She said I have enough tissue and fat to make two breasts the same size I am now, which kinda sucks. I wanted monster jugs. And apparently, in the process, the black widow tattoo on my stomach will migrate down to my pubic area. That's kinda cool. The things they can do...

Little Needles

Acupuncture--yeah, it rules! I had chemo yesterday, and compared to the dose before that, I'm feeling sooo much better. Last month's dose dealt me a world of agony, but I've been feeling alright the past two days. I went in for acupuncture this morning, and you know what? I can still taste food. I can sit and not feel like keeling over. I almost felt like working out this morning but couldn't bear to go out in the crappy weather. And, are you ready for this--the oncologist said that my tumour shrunk so much, she could hardly feel it! Which made me ask, hopefully, "Does this mean I don't have to get surgery?" To which she replied, "Nice try--but no, it doesn't mean that." Oh well.

Today, acupuncture. Tomorrow--a cruise! To exotic Victoria and Nanaimo!!!

Weather forecast promises a buttload of suckage during our cruise, but I'll be in the bowels of a boat, so eff that!

Can I Get a Hell-Yeah?!

I totally kicked cancer's ass today. SUCK MY BALLS, CANCER!

Karma

I'm just an eager little blogger today, ain't I? Must be the nice weather, which I am enjoying from inside Waves Coffeeshop, along with my artichoke and goat cheese panini and medium dark roast. So today, I stopped and picked up and threw away a pile of dog poo on my way to the acupuncturist; allowed a biotch in a BMW SUV to nearly run me over at a stop sign without getting too pissed; and talked to a slightly nutty guy who smelled really bad about how the weather is so nice and bade him a good day. Just now, a ladybug flew on my shoulder. I think, yeah, somedays, having a good spirit is just as good as, if not better than, chemo.

Whoa--you're saying--that's not what was going on earlier. Yeah, that's right. I should retitle this blog "Brandy's Bipolar Cancer Bash." But that's how it rolls, this crazy cancer ride.

AND--one more week til the cruise! Yay! I just hope I enjoy it, seeing how the cruise is only two days after my next dose of chemo. I asked the acupuncturist what to do about the flat, metallic taste in my mouth, and he said to hold a spoonful of plain yogurt in my mouth for a few seconds, then spit it out. He said that replenishes the natural bacteria in the mouth. I'll give it a shot! He also taught me something that Dude can do to help out, which is to massage the acupunture point on my wrist with a little oil. So we'll give it a go.

Hope the weather is nice where you are.

Luv,
B

Cut me open, slice me up

Yesterday, at Inspire Health, I ran into someone I met at the 2-day seminar DH and I attended last month. She's about my age, went through the same exact trial, had surgery, radiation--the whole bit. We chatted a bit about surgeons, which was a good thing because I discovered that we also both had gone to the same surgeon initially--and both of us had the same reaction: her people skills sucked to an appalling degree.

I thought it was just me; and I also thought it was to be expected, the coldness of surgeons. But through chatting with this woman, I discovered that there are actually surgeons out there who are caring and good! To think...

I would love a support group where we could talk about these things without being afraid. For me, it's hard to question doctors and such, because I've been taught that my life is in their hands. I'm learning that my life is in my hands.