It’s a weekend all about freedom. The land of the free, that’s our America. The freedoms of speech and religion. The right to choose our vocation. The right to write a blog talking about our poop, should we so choose. The right to raise our families under the beliefs we would like. The right to travel and explore and eat the foods we want. The right, now, to marry who we choose and to love who we love. People have a lot of grumblings about our freedoms and our rights these days, but from where I sit, it’s not so grim.
But this blog post isn’t about the freedom of our nation. It’s about the freedom of a survivor. Of a mama. Of a woman. Who, because I live in a country that has ground-breaking medicine, is currently living after a round in the ring with breast cancer.
And that, my friends, gives a whole new spin on freedom. One, that in my first 33 years, I don’t think I knew or felt.
I had my three month check yesterday. Ninety days. Ninety days out from which point in my treatment, I honestly am not totally sure. But my ninety days. The first of the three month touch points in my future.
My oncologist (dr. Tandra… Who continues to be Amazeballs) did an exam. He pressed haaaaaard into my armpits to check my lymph nodes. He ran basic blood work (which won’t happens every three months). We talked about how I’m feeling emotionally. Physically. We talked about where we go from here.
Now that I’m in the land of the free. With all the other brave ones who have gone through tough journeys.
I told him I’m still tired. We talked about my sinus issues. We talked about my therapist. And my Lexapro. We talked about the future.
And he said this to me, “I don’t even want you to think about your cancer. It is not yours anymore. It is gone. For all we can tell, for all we can go off of, while I am not God, you are free of cancer.”
He continued, “I want you to keep me updated on the following: sexual or intimacy issues, physical pains or concerns, depression or anxiety, or gut feelings. But what I most want is for you to live. Enjoy your kids. Eat. Exercise, exercise, exercise. Keep writing and blogging. And think of cancer as something that was a part of your life. Something that you had.”
Oh, Dr. T. He just gets me, ya know.
Because I’m on a longer leash now. I’m getting some freedom. Less doctor’s appointments, less calls, less X-rays. At least for cancer. I am still straightening out some ENT biz.
So what are my next steps? Where do I go from here? Well, after another long discussion with Dr. Tandra yesterday, I decided to start a monthly shot called Lupron. Lupron is a shot that others might know as something they were given for severe endometriosis. For me, the Lupron was administered for the first time yesterday. It is a shot in the bum. And what it will do is shut off my ovaries. I am shutting off my ovaries in order to get a better handle on hormone production.
Essentially, due to my age, I had three choices {I am not a doctor. This is just how I interpreted the info}:
1. Go on Tamoxifen. Tamoxifen is a drug that suppresses estrogen production. And my cancer feeds off of hormones so I needed to do one of these three. Tamoxifen would be taken once daily for ten years. Long term side effects include pulmonary embolism, stroke, seizures, blood clots, etc. Short term side effects include bone loss, depression, weight gain, etc.
2. Go on Lupron shots + and aromatase inhibitor. Lupron shots will chemically suppress my ovaries. One of three aromatase inhibitors will help eat the estrogen et al. You cannot choose the Lupron unless you are done having children. This option has fewer long term side effects but the short term side effects include joint pain, depression, rapid weight gain, anxiety, vaginal dryness, hot flashes, loss of sexual desire and drive, bone loss, and loss of period. This pill+shot would be taken for 5-10 years.
3. Have my ovaries taken out and then take an aromatase inhibitor. Same side effects as number two, just a little more “severe” because you are not chemically suppressing the ovaries, you are actually removing them from the body. Also, this would have required another surgery.
In the research done, number two was my “best bet.” It has shown the most efficacy for non-recurrence within the first five years. So that is what I chose. For now. I had the freedom, totally, to choose. To research on my own. To ask around. I live in a place where I, along with very skilled medical professionals, get to make decisions. And have freedom to say yes or no.
So yesterday, with a bit of fear and trepidation, I pulled up my dress, exposed my bum, and got my first Lupron shot. I will watch over the next thirty days. I will see if I have drastic weight gain, depression, decrease in sexual intimacy, and hot flashes. I will keep a notebook of joint pain or loss of interest in life.I will also start taking Aromasin as it was the drug that showed the most efficacy in trials. I will stay very active. I will, actually, have to watch how much I eat a bit. And I will pray that God goes easy on the side effects for me.
So if I gain 20 pounds this month, just know that, oddly, the decision to have health security over vanity was my choice. That I was more concerned with the size of my cancer cells than the size of my jeans. If you notice I’m down, let me know. If I write about the s-E-X stuff… Well, I won’t do that. That’s for the “book.” If I ask, “is it hot in here, or is it just me?” Always reply, “it’s just you!”
And then, in another month, I will do the “shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots {EVERYBODY}” again. And if I decide to stick with that route — with the Lupron — then I can move to 3 and 6 months increments of getting the injections and will continue to get bone density scans once a year.
It’s a new part of the journey. The after. The part where we are saying, “don’t you come around here again, ya hear, cancer?” It’s the part where I had to make other tough decisions that I didn’t think I’d be making at 34. It’s the part where I am thankful for my freedom from treatments, mastectomies, and radiation. Brilliant, friendly, family-like doctors. Friends who are unconditional. Family who makes me a priority. And where I recognize that while I have never been truly dying, I am thrilled, at some point each day, about the simplicity of living.
So here I am… free. And able, for once, to recognize that before cancer, I was free, too. I just didn’t appreciate the freedom quite as much until it was threatened to be taken away. But here I am… four months out from chemo. 8 weeks out from rads. One day out from Lupron. And free to live. In the land of the Cancer-free.
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