My Facebook Memories have been reminding me all week that last year, I was doing this. Because from April 11-18 of 2015, the Hubs, myself, and several of our very close friends, traveled to Aruba to celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary.
And boy, was it fun…
But even though I had sooooo much fun. And even though I felt sooooo free. And even though I soooo loved the ocean. And the blueness of that ocean. And the time alone with my husband. Something was wrong.
I knew it. And now I know it even more. When I look back on the trip. Something was off.
I couldn’t sleep. If you know me, one of my favorite past times is sleeping in. I adore it. I look forward to it. But in Aruba, when we had no reason to get out of bed if we didn’t want to. Where we could have napped every day. Where all of our friends could sleep until 10. I couldn’t sleep. I would wake up in the morning feelin’ like P diddy. No. Wait. I would wake up every morning around 4 or 5 am and not be able to sleep. And if I drank the night before, especially the night I had a few too many {which happened to NOT be the night I was swinging from the tree}, I would wake up with my heart beating out of my chest.
I don’t know if it was anxiety. I don’t know if it was some type of depressive state. I don’t know if it was missing my kids. But now I wonder A LOT… was it cancer?
Because basically 5 months after that trip, I found my lump. And you can ask most anyone… when I found the lump, I just had a bad feeling. And now, when I realize how much energy I have post-chemo and surgery, and when I see how much better I can sleep… and I know they “guesstimated” that the lump could have been growing for up to 4 years, I just have to ask myself: Was the reason I didn’t quite feel like myself in Aruba because I really wasn’t quite myself? Was it because I was already sick?
And I don’t ever ask myself why I didn’t find it earlier because the reality is that I saved my own life by finding it, acknowledging it, and seeing a physician just days after I noticed its status. And so I will never ever blame myself for not finding it. No one else found it either. But gosh golly, am I happy my Primary Care Doc sent me on for a mammo. And then for biopsy. And am I thankful that Nebraska Medicine didn’t stop with the biopsies and tests until they could put their finger on the fact that I did, indeed have a lymphovascular invasion. Because while I felt a lump. And while they all FELT the lump…. a mass did not show up on my ultrasound or mammogram. And even when they stuck a needle directly through the mass multiple times, they were unable to pinpoint the actual tumor because it was in the lymphovascular spaces. If they had not done a mammogram. If they had not done an ultrasound. And then had not done just one but TWO biopsies. And then re-dissected the second biopsy. If they had not then done the sentinel node biopsy… If they’d not been SO ridiculously thorough and I had just waited until I was 40 to start the tests for breast cancer, well… my reality is pretty real. I would never have turned 40. Or at least, it wouldn’t have looked very good for me if I would have.
So. I have to love on my team for just a second, once again. Dr. Tandra, my main Oncologist and dare I say, friend {at this point, I am calling him that. I know. It’s ballsy. But I really like the guy. And he’s wicked smaht} is on my left. Dr. Wahl {my Radiation Onc who is brilliant, personable, and perhaps younger than I} is on my right {not pictured are my Surgical Onc, Dr. Thayer whom I absolutely adore, my Plastic Surgeon, Dr. Perry Johnson who I think is one cool, smart cat … and of course all of the kickass nursing staff.}
These people are telling me that once I am through radiation, my recurrence rate of a local cancer is about 10% for the first 5 years. I can handle 10%. I can live through and embrace each day with that number. And I have that number… I have this life… because of them. So once again… I love you, Nebraska Medicine.
So, on to radiation. I am going to get a little personal here {I know. You’re thinking, “ummmmm MORE personal. What have you been up until now?!”} but I really want you to see the process of all of this. Partially so you can understand it. And partially so you can know what others going through treatment are doing each step of the way, too.
As I mentioned in my most recent post, I went in last Friday to get “mapping” done. During this time, they put 4 stickers on me. The one you see here is the only one with an X.
And the three others just have a line down the middle. The stickers will stay on through all of radiation which, for me, will be 5.5 weeks long. Some people will have tiny tattooed dots put in the place of the stickers. I think it just depends on what the doc’s preference is.
Yesterday, I went in to have my bolus made. A bolus is a form {sort of like a pregnancy belly casting;)} that is made specifically to an individual’s shape and mapping area. First, Dr. Wahl and staff {who were all awesome btw}, took the white mesh that you see on the underside of the item they are cutting in the picture below. It actually was very hard plastic until they warmed it and stuck it firmly to my chest, belly, and upper chest. Then, eight hands pressed all around it to make it fit to my form. I felt a little like I should have bought them all dinner first or something but I guess they are used to massage the breast area of women soooo I let it go.
Then, after the white honeycomb material is formed, they start melting dental wax and applying it to fill over the entire form. So basically, my bolus looks like a huge replica of my grandma’s gums with her dentures out.
So, you know… I had to snap a selfie. And yes. That is my boob under there. But I feel like it’s no different than me in a bathing suit. Plus, these boobs are no longer mine. In fact, Blue Cross owns them now, I guess {yay to slammin’ insurance coverage!!}.
I will wear the bolus for every treatment. It is a more effective way to conduct the rays to the area and keep them in. It will also look super cool on my wall at home after. See! There are always perks.
The reality is that with radiation, I have an even better chance of sticking around for Adam. For my boys. And to enjoy life. So I’m rolling with it.
Sometimes I think, “is this really my life?!” and then I wonder if I might just wake up some day and this will all just have been a dream. But… I think I’m starting to realize, it’s just my crazy reality. And crazy or not, it’s a life I get to live. And be mostly healthy and very happy with. And for that, I am eternally thankful.
Wish me luck as I go all Tom Cruise today {And no. I don’t mean jumping on couches. I mean walking through weird laser beams}. I’m not scared. I’m not nervous. I’m ready to get this show on the road. Just one more part of trying to maintain a cancer-free life. And I’m up for the fight.
