BC Becky

Never thought I'd want to be a breast cancer survivor

Category: chemo

  • ‘For now, the chemo is done …

    Yesterday was my last scheduled chemotherapy – taxol. We went to the tree before my first appointment and took the requisite pictures. I had some fun with it.

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    Towards the end of my treatment, the chemo nurses sang the chemo song: http://vimeo.com/110530951

    A tear or two did drop from my eyes as they were singing and congratulating me. For the last four treatments, I had been anticipating the moment I finally got to say “this is my last chemo”. The problem is, I don’t feel like the chemo is done. Let’s start with the fact that this may have been my last infusion, but I still have to go through the side effects from the last infusion – so I still have a difficult week ahead of me before I start to recover from the chemo. But also, my treatment isn’t done. I don’t know what the results of the pathology will show. So, for now the chemo is done, but I just don’t know that it is really done. So instead of ‘hey now, the chemo is done’ … it feels more like ‘for now, the chemo is done’ …

    From the treatment perspective, focus is now shifting to surgery. It seems each time I see the surgeons things change a little. I wanted to know from my breast surgeon, where the incisions were going to be and what I could expect when I wake up from the first surgery. The thing is, they do the incisions on the first surgery based upon the second surgery – so they can use the same incision points. Fortunately, Thursday is the day that plastics are at the women’s center, so my breast surgeon brought in my plastic surgeon and the two of them discussed and decided where the best place would be for the incisions. The my surgeon drew on (in ballpoint pen) where the incision will be.

    We then talked about pain management. Prior to surgery I will see nuclear medicine to have an isotope injected to help identify the sentinel node(s) for the sentinel node biopsy. In my case, this will involve approximately 4 needles in each breast, each feeling like a bee sting. Then, I’ll go to mammography center where they will use a mammogram machine and place wires that the surgeons will use to identify where two of the tumors are (current plan is to only remove L1 and R1 – one tumor on each breast). Typically, a local anesthetic is used for wire placement (although it still not pleasant with the mammogram machine squeezing – which is extra not fun when you have port). They don’t usually use any anesthesia for the nuclear injections. Of course, in most cases, women are only doing this with one breast. My surgeon happens to be connected to the head person for pain management in anesthesia (the regional director). Given all the pre-surgery procedures, I’ve been referred to him to have paravertebral nerve blocks prior to the visit to nuclear medicine for the injections. This will mean (in theory) I won’t feel anything around the breast area.

    All my pre-op appointments are scheduled in the morning. Surgery is scheduled for 1:30pm and has been booked for three hours. Then I go to recovery for at least 2 hours (while I wake up). I’m booked for an overnight in the hospital. I’m happy to be in the hospital overnight, as that is when all the surgery related pain meds will wear off – so I’ll have ready access to doctors if needed to help with pain management. We will leave the hospital with written prescriptions for pain meds (actually, I’ll probably send Scott over to the Stanford pharmacy to get the filled – so we will leave with the drugs in hand).

    I continue to be impressed with the little bits of special treatment I’m getting. I’m definitely a squeaky wheel – in that I booked the extra appointment to see my surgeon because I didn’t know where she was placing the incisions – and I wanted to know. I’m so glad we had the appointment, as I have a much clearer picture of how things will work on the day of surgery, and being a special case for pain management will also mean my personal experience will be a little less painful.

     

     

  • Chemo Tourist

    Today I was a chemo tourist. The infusion center I normally go to was full, so they booked me at the new Stanford infusion center in Redwood City. Boy is it swanky. Everything is so shiny and new. It totally does not feel at all the same as the Stanford Cancer Centre ITA.
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    I thought I had taken a picture looking out from the chair, but it appears I didn’t. The ITA is setup with two infusion chairs in each “family area”. There is a table with games and magazine. Instead of individual TVs there is one large TV.  There were lots of chairs for family members to sit, and each infusion chair had its own table (for laptops or lunch or whatever). You certainly don’t see as many sick people at the Redwood City ITA – in part because the treatment areas are much smaller and more segregated (separated into two people per treatment area). It is a very different feeling. It certainly felt more upscale than the regular ITA.

    If I had a bunch more chemo to go, I’d certain try to get more of them scheduled at the Redwood City ITA (they ran on time!). With only one left, I’m doing my last chemo at the regular ITA because it is my time to say thank-you to all the nurses there. Interestedly, the nurse I had today was one I had a couple weeks ago at the other ITA (she was there on loan for the day). So it was nice to see a familiar face in the new surroundings.

    To brighten my mood the chemo nurse mentioned that my dosage had been reduced – actually she mentioned it, not knowing how much it would brighten my mood. I’m hoping that the lower dose will mean a reduction in the side effects (crossing fingers). It really does make the whole idea of two more weeks of this (one more chemo, but it takes a week to recover) more bearable.  It most definitely cheered me up. Maybe I’ll not feel so bad this coming week 🙂

     

     

  • Oh how easily I forget

    I had three days off of chemo (rather than 7 days between infusions, I had 10 days). In those three extra days, some of the persistent side effects of Taxol began to wear off. I had more energy, less pain, and my mind was more focused. It was easier for me to get out and exercise, and easier to spend time on the computer on tasks that required concentration.

    What has surprised me is just how quickly I forgot about the pains of Taxol. I had forgotten about the shooting nerve pain, the weak and achy joints, the numbness in my feet, and pain in my finger tips. I had forgotten until yesterday anyways!

    We went for a morning hike up on the Sierra open space reserve (about a 30-minute drive from our place). Scott brought his new camera and took some fantastic photos (http://dttocs.smugmug.com/Sierra-Vista):

    I enjoyed walking but definitely felt a lot weaker that I had been last weekend doing the Peak Hike (can’t believe that was only last weekend). Late yesterday afternoon the nerves started to fire off again (I didn’t realize they had stopped until they returned). It was at this point that it occurred to me that the change in infusion days from Monday to Thursday means that my weak days are Saturday and Sunday rather than Thursday and Friday. It means I need to tone down my weekend commitments until this chemo is done (two more weeks!).

    The good news in all this, is that it only took me three days to forget about the worst of the Taxol side effects (yay).

     

  • Groundhog Day

    Last night I was reminded of Groundhog Day – if the groundhog sees his shadow, then 6-more weeks of chemo – if he doesn’t see his shadow, then we are done with chemo. Today is mostly cloudy (figuratively, not literally, its almost always sunny here).

    MRI results are rather encouraging (although I don’t completely understand them) – there is no sign of nodal involvement. The more encouraging line in the results relates to the large tumor on the left breast (L1), which the report says “there is near complete resolution of abnormal enhancement”.  The other two tumors, L2 and R1, have shrunk but are still there – as these were slower growing, it isn’t surprising that they are less responsive to the chemo. The general consensus is that I’ve had an excellent response to chemotherapy and that I can proceed to surgery at any time. Chemo is only needed to maintain until surgery – so if they cannot get the surgery scheduled soon enough then additional chemo is needed.

    The next new bit of information is relating to the surgery. The breast surgeon recommends a two-stage approach – the first being a lumpectomy, sentinel node biopsy (axillary lymph node dissection only if positive biopsy), and devascularization of the nipple and aerola complex. All the removed parts are then sent to pathology for full analysis. In essence, this is the cancer surgery plus devascularization of the nipple area. The devascularization increases the blood flow to the skin around the nipples, reducing the risk of issues with the reconstruction. It also includes a biopsy of the area under the nipple, which determines whether or not the nipple can can be spared. This is done approximately three weeks after the stop of chemo. I’m waiting to hear on dates for this.

    The second surgery is bilateral mastectomy sparing the skin and nipples (only if they are cancer free) with immediate flap reconstruction.  This happens about three weeks after the first surgery (this is tentatively set for December 16th but will likely be earlier).

    What I like about this approach is that we get the cancer out quickly – so it is gone before it gets a chance to grow again. We will also have pathology before reconstruction. It doesn’t necessarily change the surgeries, but it is a consideration (we will have confirmation that radiation isn’t required). It makes the breast surgeon’s part of the second surgery a little easier, but that isn’t the big part of the second surgery. The bigger part is the reconstruction – so the second surgery is still a long surgery (8-10 hours).

    After the second surgery I start anti-hormone therapy (tamoxifen) for 10-years.

    There is also a third surgery that takes place no sooner than 3-months after the reconstruction. This is the “revision” surgery. Once everything has healed from the cancer surgery and primary reconstruction, the plastic surgeon goes back in and cleans up any scar tissue and lyposuctions any extraneous fat pockets.

    So where does this leave me? After all the surgery discussions today, my oncologist still wants me to do one more chemo treatment. I wasn’t willing to do it today (I have mouths sores and I want to give them a little more time to heal). So I have chemo scheduled for Thursday. Depending on when the first surgery date is, this will likely be my last chemo.

  • One more chemo day …

    So I’ve survived one more chemo day … I type this as the monitor beeps saying I’m done … with any luck this will be my last …

    Had some fun taking pictures by my tree before the infusion.

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    I won’t know until next Monday (the 13 – which also happens to be Canadian Thanksgiving) – what is happening with my chemo. I have an MRI on Thursday night and various doctors appointments on Monday. If the tumors are gone (or small enough), then we’ll stop chemo and get ready for surgery. If the tumors are still present on the MRI – or haven’t shrunk as much as we had hoped – then I’ll continue with chemo for another six weeks (although I may see if I can take a week off in order to give my blood counts a fighting chance of rebounding). My  red blood counts (RGB/hematocrit) are higher than they were last week (still low, but better). My white counts are still trending downwards.

    So another week of appointments. I’m going to try to take it easy this week – listening to my body – and doing whatever I feel like doing. Pretty much like I have been doing since starting chemo with a little more emphasis on resting.

    One side effect that I’m now having is pain under my nails on my thumbs and first two fingers. It isn’t painful when I do nothing, but when I use my fingers it hurts (even when typing I’m aware of the pain). The finger tips also are sensitive to the heat – in particular the heat of the gas burners on the stove. So I’m going to try to shift to meals made in the oven. If anyone has any recommendations for favorite casseroles, please post recipes or links in the comments. Thanks.

     

  • Permission …

    On Friday, I gave myself permission to stop working while I’m on Taxol. I have been trying to sneak in small amounts of contract work, but I just haven’t been able to get anything done. I’ve had the same task on my to do list week after week. It isn’t a big task, nor a lot of work, but it requires some concentration – and I just don’t have that right now. So, on Friday, I gave myself permission to let it go.

    I have to say, it is a lot easier to put it on hold with the thought that I’ll have one or two more treatments – a lot easier than thinking 6 or 7 more treatments.

    I got word from my oncologist – the current plan is that I do chemo on Monday (dependent on my blood counts). I have an MRI booked for Thursday evening. I see my oncologist again on Monday morning (Oct 13 – Canadian Thanksgiving). I also see both my surgeons that day. Depending on what the MRI says, we will either continue with chemo or move on to surgery. I’m leaning towards surgery right night, largely because the chemo is taking away all my energy. I’m tired of it all – ready to move on to the next step.

    So, I’ve given myself permission to not work while on Taxol. I need to let that pressure go. I’ve also decided that I shall not be driving while on Taxol. Two weeks ago I was good on Tuesday and part of Wednesday. This week, I wasn’t good Tuesday afternoon. I do wonder if the issue is related to my low blood counts? In some ways, I hope that is the problem, as it would mean that when my blood counts rebound I’ll get that cognitive processing back.

    Today, I’m tired – I’m actually looking forward to the post-chemo steroid boost – that is, the extra energy I get on Monday afternoon, Tuesday, and Wednesday because of the steroids given during chemo.

     

  • Fear and feeling better

    Yesterday, I was scared. I didn’t quite realize just how scared I was – and I couldn’t quite label it. I was scared enough that I cried. Then I went out for a bike ride. Biking always makes seems to help clear my head and allows me to figure out what I’m actually thinking.

    I realized on the bike ride that I had a fear of taxol chemo – almost a paralyzing fear – so bad that I was making plans to skip treatment. But I wasn’t sure if the fear was a rational fear or not. My fear is that the side effects that I’m experiencing will become permanent. With each additional treatment, I’m afraid that the damage will be irreversible. This is scaring me more than the fear of the cancer itself, and scaring me more than surgery (which isn’t scaring me anymore).

    Today I’m feeling a little calmer. I’ve been able to label my fear. I sent an email to my oncologist, telling him that I am scared. This will likely be a surprise, as I have always (almost always anyways) been strong during my appointments. But I just need some form of re-assurance. I need to hear that I’m over-reacting, that one more treatment won’t be the ‘one’ that causes irreversible damage.

    Somehow, today I’m not feeling nearly as panicked and scared as I was yesterday. I got a good night’s sleep. Actually, I’ve been sleeping better since the weekend. It has been cooler outside and we bought a new fan to cool the bedroom at night – which has made a huge difference. Unfortunately, the cooler weather isn’t expected to last – with forecast temps as high as 30 degrees C on Friday! So, back into summer temperatures. So, as some of the side effects get worse, others are fading as my body gets accustomed to the chemo. Today, I feel that I can manage one more treatment of taxol …

    I also woke up this morning to fewer eye brows and definite thinning of the eye lashes. I probably have less than 10 hairs on each brow now. However, my head has a nice layer of peach fuzz on it! The transitions in hair growth are somewhat amusing …

    2014-10-01 12.01.10

     

     

  • Flexibility … and some good news …

    One thing I can say for certain, the cancer journey is anything but predictable. I had all of these plans made based upon when my chemo dates would finish … and now things are going to get crazy again.

    My first appointment this morning was with radiation oncology. I saw a resident who was clearly new and needs a fair be more practice at taking histories and listening to patients. He also needs some work on empathy. I am left thinking, how do you teach those skills? I don’t know, but this resident – although clinically wasn’t bad – certainly needed to work on the skills of engaging the patient – but also on things to say and not say to someone on the first consult to radiation oncology!

    When the attending oncologist came in, she began by asking us where we were from and a little bit about us. She introduced herself not just to me but also to my husband. I found myself thinking that the resident really needs to watch the oncologist (perhaps some role modelling) to show how to developed a rapport with me before starting to talk about the cancer. Her synopsis was, given the information they have from my pre-chemo MRIs, and the fact that I’m planning on a bilateral mastectomy, that I most likely will not require radiation. There is the obvious caveat that if the post-surgical pathology finds something, then that assessment might change – in particular if the pathology shows lots of cancer or a specific type of tumor/tumor remnant, then radiation might be warranted. But at this point, the MRI is not indicating that. Yay.

    I should also mention that the resident also did a thorough exam (clearly he was pretty new to this as well – still getting his feet wet) – anyways, he examined my breasts both in the seated and laying down positions – and couldn’t feel anything in either breast, and nothing on the lymph nodes. So, he confirmed that I have no clinical signs of cancer. Again yay.

    Then I saw my oncologist. My blood levels are still declining, but they aren’t low enough to stop chemo or transfuse. With Taxol, I’m experiencing annoying side effects. Again, not bad enough to stop chemo, but enough to be a concern. However, given the lack of clinical signs of cancer (my oncologist also confirmed that he isn’t feeling anything), that we COULD stop chemo and ‘pull the trigger’ on surgery. That it is my choice.

    Part of me has a knee-jerk reaction – I have everything planned out. I have a trip to Ontario booked to see family, I have a trip to Hawaii booked for my breast memorial. All this is based upon finishing 12-weeks of Taxol and have surgery after that.

    Now, if we stop chemo, then we still wait 4-6 weeks for surgery. My body needs time to heal from the chemo (and honestly, I could really use a break right now). My blood counts needs to recover before I can contemplate surgery. But I am encouraged also to have surgery as soon as feasible, because the cancer might not be completely dead. So if it isn’t, we don’t want to allow too much time … surgery needs to happen as soon as it is safe to do so (4-6 weeks after chemo).

    Part of me is feels OK with this. I don’t like the idea of stopping chemo because of side-effects, but stopping chemo because we think the cancer is dead and there is no reason to continue the chemo – that is a good reason to stop it.

    I don’t want to just stop though – I cannot have today be my last chemo day – I need a schedule that says it is my last chemo day – I need to hear the chemo nurses sing the chemo song (they sing to you during your last treatment). I need that in order to feel that it is done.

    So, now I go through reasons why I should stop the chemo – one reason really – side effects. The neuropathy and cognitive disassociation (chemo brain) I’m feeling. The longer I’m on taxol the higher chance these effects can become permanent. In most people, the side effects end within a month or two of the chemo ending, but for some people it is permanent. So the longer I’m on, the more likely there would be long-term damage. That isn’t good. It is a good reason to stop the chemo, even if the cancer wasn’t responding … but given the cancer is responding, it is a pretty compelling reason to decide that I’ve had enough of the Taxol.

    But then part of me says, but you had a plan … Another part of me says, you always knew the plan might need to change … part of me is jumping up and down with joy – this really is the best outcome we could expect.

    And so this week and next, things will get really busy. I will begin with an MRI which will help to confirm what is happening with the tumors. The MRI is the best evidence the surgeons will have, and will be the best evidence I will have. I’ll also push to get the CT of my belly ordered, as that information is needed for plastics. Once the MRI and CT results are in, I’ll meet with both surgeons (breast surgeon who does the mastectomy and plastic surgeon who does the reconstruction) to go through the surgery and dates will get set! I expect lots of appointments in the next few weeks!

     

  • Bear with me – I’m busy – and cognitively challenged

    So this morning I found myself busy. My brain is in overdrive from a thinking perspective, but I do not have the time to get everything done that I want to do. I cannot keep up with everything on my to do list.

    Part of this is trying to get all of the errands I need driving done (DMV, grocery store, bike repair, reiki apt) as well as all of the things that I want to get done that require more concentration – and trying to pack them all into the same day – plus I want to go for a long bike ride while I have strength for that. I think I may be a little over committed.

    In running my errands this morning/afternoon, I notice that my visual cognitive disassociation is happening sooner this cycle; however, it is isn’t as sudden shift and at this point in time is not really that bad – I’m aware of it, but it isn’t bad enough to really affect my ability to do things. I’m still thinking well, and even problem solving – just perhaps, not as quickly as I’d like. So, this cycle I haven’t suddenly noticed that I couldn’t process, however, I’m feeling a mild version of the disassociation. I’m still comfortable driving when I’m alone in the car with no music. I am reminded of my grandmother as she was getting older (and her very early signs of dementia – before we recognized it as such). She would say that she was OK driving alone, but she was very uncomfortable driving with other people in the car. I can totally relate to that feeling.

    One of my errands this morning was a trip to the DMV. When I had tried to book a driving test previously, the person on the phone said they could not book an appointment beyond the time of my temporary permit, and that I first needed to go in the office and renew my temporary permit. I was told that I did not actually need to do the driving test for 1 year after the written, but I needed to have a valid temporary permit. At this point in time, I’m not comfortable committing to a date for the road test, because I have too much variability in my treatment and side effects.

    When I talked to the agent at the DMV, he said he could only issue me a permit on that would be valid to the day of my driving test, and he had to book a driving test. He could book me a test for October 7th (ack). Fortunately, I had the wherewithal to ask to speak to the supervisor.

    You see, the agent wasn’t listening to my story – he wasn’t able to deal with exceptions – he could only process things based upon the rules that he knew. I figured that if I spoke to the supervisor, I could come up with a better strategy for how to handle my specific situation.

    The supervisor was able to listen to my story, appreciate the issue at hand, and provide me with the information I need. I can drive in California under my existing Ontario driver’s license (as long as that is valid – so mental note – must renew when we are in Canada next, as it expires Feb 2015). Since my temporary California permit expires on Monday, the supervisor was able to issue me with a new permit that doesn’t expire until 1-year after my written test (July 22, 2015).

    So now, I have until July 2015 to book my California driving test. The manager could totally appreciate the complexity of medical treatment and how that affected my ability to do the driving test. She just confirmed that I don’t drive when I don’t feel that I am mentally able to, but also appreciated the added stress of doing a driver’s test and how that might not be feasible at the moment. I was concerned about the legalities and insurance – she made an interesting comment that it isn’t relevant if I don’t get pulled over, which I found amusing. So now I can comfortably wait until after surgery to do my California driving test – or I can choose to get it done after the cognitive effects of taxol have worn off.

    Now, I must get back to one of the other 8000 things I feel like I need to do today!

  • Another reflection on chemo brain

    [Free Webinar Wednesday, Sept 17, 9am PDT, noon EDT on chemo brain – http://www.lbbc.org/Events/2014-09-17-Chemobrain]

    A great blog post by Anne Boyer crossed my twitter stream today. In it she talks about her experience with chemo brain after her first cycle of AC chemo. I encourage you to read her post before continuing with this one, as she does such a great job describing how chemo brain manifests itself in her.

    I was lucky. I didn’t have clear indicators of chemo brain during AC chemo – at least not until the last dose, at which time the mouth sores made everything else irrelevant! What I did have was an inability to multi-task or concentrate (if Scott played any music, I became unable to type, write, or think). My inability to multi-task began before the chemo – as I had a hard time concentrating immediately after diagnosis (for that I blame stress and anxiety). However, I noticed during AC chemo that driving took a lot more energy. I could still do it, but to pay attention to so many things at once was exhausting. As the chemo progressed, I found myself thankful for the disabled permit that allows me to use a close parking spot at the grocery store. The cognitive effort associated with finding a parking spot would have made running errands impossible. I may not physically need it from a strength perspective, but I definitely physically need it from a cognitive perspective.

    But as I ventured into the T-chemo regime, the cognitive numbness became more pronounced (actually my cognitive abilities are sharper for the first two days and they then decline rather rapidly). I tried to blog about it, which in hindsight is rather remarkable. When I think about the experience and read about what I wrote, and then read Anne’s description of the effects of Adriamycin on the brain, I find myself wondering what are the effects of Paclitaxol on the brain? And what long-term effects of adriamycin wilI I discover (or not discover as I will have forgotten what I used to be able to do – a blessing I suppose). Anne writes:

    MRIs of other women with breast cancer suggest damage to the visual cortex, “significantly reduced activation of the left middle dorsolateral prefrontal cortex and premotor cortex,” and “ significantly reduced left caudal lateral prefrontal cortex activation, increased perseverative errors, and reduced processing speed.”  Women complain that they lose the ability to read, to recall words, to speak fluently, to make decisions, and to remember.

    One of the things that I didn’t mention in the cognitive numbness post is my difficulty in finding my words. I go to describe something and I’m not able to get the words out. I find myself pausing while I talk (or at least I feel like I’m pausing while I talk). The flow of my language isn’t the same – it has somehow been interrupted. This is one area where I hope that blogging is helping me. It gives me reason to practice using my words. With each blog post I am ‘exercising’ the parts of my brain that I use to analyze problems, and describe them. This mental exercise may prove to be just as valuable to my recovery as the physical exercise I do.

    I cannot help but be offended that these side effects are not mentioned – or at least not talked about in any detail. There was a brief mention in our “Introduction to Chemotherapy” workshop that chemo brain was a potential side effect, and that it was a real thing, and that it was being studied – but that is it. I find it offensive that the side effect has been understudied because women’s description of the symptoms have been dismissed. But also, this side effect is especially scary for me – an academic. When I’m done this treatment, will I still be able to do the work that I do? I have a new found respect for my friend who started her PhD immediately after her cancer treatment. She negotiated PhD courses while under the fog of chemo brain while negotiating life in a new city. All I can say is Wow.

    Another area that I haven’t been able to contemplate since chemo is reading academic articles. I don’t know what that barrier is. It may just be a mental block not related at all to chemo – is might just be that my body wants to take a break from academic work and it is exerting a resistance to reading academic articles. I want to be more knowledgable in certain areas, but I don’t seem to be as capable at search for the right articles, but I also don’t seem to be motivated to read articles. So, I fill my ‘high functioning cognitive days’ with busy work – I get some contract stuff done, I catch up on my emails, I write lots of blog posts – but I don’t read academic articles. I keep hoping that will change soon. I have a few starting to pile up in my ‘to read’ list … I just need the cognitive presents and also the motivation to make that leap – but it just isn’t there yet.

    So for now, I shall keep up my ‘exercise’ and try to write regularly – either here or on my other blog. I can only hope that my words continue to make sense and continue to demonstrate some level of cognitive competence.

     

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