BC Becky

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

Tag: medical process

  • My Buddha Belly

    It may sound dumb but one of my biggest worries about not getting reconstruction is that I’ll look funny. I’ll have a flat chest but a buddha belly. I’m more scared about the buddha belly than I am about the flat chest.

    I know my choice for surgery. I know I ‘want’ a double-mastectomy. Want is such an odd word here – need might be more appropriate. I know I do NOT want to be hacked up and left oddly deformed, which is what a breast sparing lumpectomy would do. I also know that I do not want radiation. My skin is so very sensitive, that the idea of radiation burns freaks me out. So, for me, the best option is the double-mastectomy.

    I also know that I do not want to go through 2-3 years of additional surgeries. When you are first diagnosed with breast cancer, the surgeon presents you with one bit of “good news”. That “good news” is that insurance is required to cover reconstruction. What they don’t tell you is that reconstruction is not easy. You are not reconstructing healthy breasts. It isn’t a simple “boob job”. Reconstruction happens after they remove parts (or all) of your breasts, and then use radiation treatments to make sure that the cancer is gone. So they begin reconstruction with less than ideal material – you are not starting with healthy breasts, you are starting with damaged breasts. The reconstruction process can (and usually does) involve several additional surgeries, all done under general anesthetic. Each brings in new risks of infection and complications.

    Maybe, if I had a small mass in one breast, I might opt for a simple cosmetic surgery that in essence evens out my breasts – maybe. But I don’t have that option. I have two areas of cancer in my left breast, one rather large … which doesn’t leave much to work with. Plus I have cancer in the right breast. So radiation would mean radiation on both sides – a double whammy.

    So, for me, the best possible outcome is a single surgery – double-mastectomy with nice clean matching / symmetric scars. No extra lumps and bumps, but nice and flat.

    That much I know. But what scares me is the buddha belly. I have a great body image right now. I’m happy with how I look. I’m pretty sure I’ll still be happy without breasts (they are trying to kill me after all). But the belly … now that might be the challenge. I will need a new identity – perhaps after BCBecky  (Breast Cancer Becky) I will become BBBecky (Buddha Belly Becky).  Maybe if I can find some pride in that identity, I can be happy with my new body image. [i’m laughing through my tears as i write this].

    What also scars me is metastasis. So far, all signs are that I do not have node involvement. We won’t know until after surgery. The first line of treatment for node involvement is chemo – which I’m already doing. The second line is radiation. So, if surgery finds node involvement, I may need radiation (ugh). Once that is determine, we then start to look beyond the breasts for spread. Women can live for years with metastatic disease (like 10 years). Metastatic disease is often treated with chemo that is designed to slow the spread of the disease, but the quality of life with sustaining chemo scars me. Chemo is hard. I can do it now, because I have hope that it means that when I’m done with chemo and surgery that the disease will be gone. I watch other women live with metastatic disease and go through chemo so that they can live a little longer, mostly to watch their children grow up. For them, the pain, the yuckiness of chemo is worth it. I don’t think I could do that. For the first time in my life, I truly appreciate what quality of life means. I cannot see making myself feel awful (chemo) just to live longer feeling awful the whole time. I do not have kids, I do not have a reason to want to hold on. And I could not bare to have Scott see me suffer for years just to live an unhappy life. Now, this isn’t something I need to worry about now. My prognosis doesn’t look like that … from all signs I do not have metastatic disease, but these are thoughts that I do have … and I promised myself when I started this blog that I would write these thoughts and share them, regardless of how difficult they might be read or write.

    So, here is to living a long healthy life as Buddha Belly Becky … whoever that may be!

  • Cycle three

    So I’m officially 1/2 way through the AC chemo. The AC is supposed to be the harder part – the T chemo, which is done weekly is a much lower dose. With the AC chemo, I take a cocktail of pre-chemo meds to counteract the side-effects – mostly to fight off the nausea. In theory, when I switch to T chemo I won’t need any pre-meds or anything to fight nausea. Here is hoping.

    Did not have my expert photographer (Scott) with me when I visited my tree for the requisite selfie – so the shots aren’t as well composed, but fun none-the-less. I really noticed that the tree smelled like eucalyptus, so I wonder if it is pollen season?

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    Scott was by my side during at least part of the chemo treatment and took this excellent artistic shot. I was next to the window in treatment today (my preferred location), so I can look out at the tops of a few trees. I like the natural light and having a sense of how the day is passing by.

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    So far, so good.

     

  • Bone-pain – a mixed blessing

    When I didn’t experience a lot of fatigue or any bone-pain yesterday, I felt it was a mixed blessing. I wondered if the reason I wasn’t feeling it was because I had successfully managed the side effects (although that doesn’t describe the lack of fatigue) or was it that the Neulasta shot that came via express scripts (mailed) wasn’t stored properly such that it was ineffective?

    This morning, when I started to feel the initial twinges of bone pain, I felt a bit of relief but also a bit of concern. The Neulasta is definitely working. This is a good thing. But everything seems to be running a day late (probably because of the later in the day infusion time). This means that my day early third infusion may feel like two days early infusion, and that would really suck. So, I’m crossing my fingers that the delayed onset was really just me managing the side effects better.

    In looking at my medications records, it appears I did not take my NSAID before bed last night. I highly recommend the Dosecast app (available on both Android and iOS) for tracking when you actually take medication. I can never remember what pill I took when, so every time I take something I just click the “take” button in Dosecast. I can then look up when I took what, and I can print out a 30-day summary for my doctors. So when my primary care doc asked how often I was taking the heartburn medication, I could just show that particular medication to him on my phone. Very handy.

    I’ve now taken my NSAID but cannot sit until it takes effect. I’m typing this from my husbands standing desk (handy that he has it!). I’m about to go out for a training walk with my iPod – which now has Warrior by Scandal loaded on it in addition to my regular mix of Bon Jovi and Bryan Adams. My walk may turn more into a moving dance than a walk!

    In other notes, I’m going bald and my eyebrows are thinning. People say “you still have your eyebrows” as it seems mostly that I am the only that notices the difference. They look manicured now, and I haven’t waxed them in years! Last night when I pulled on my sleeping t-shirt I felt all prickly on the neck. I discovered that the act of pulling the shirt over my head dislodged a bunch of the remaining head stubble and embedded in the shirt collar. I had to put a buff on my head (head scarf) before putting on a clean shirt, so that I didn’t end up with hair in my shirt collar again! What is interesting is that I do seem to have a layer of baby fuzz on my head. So the hair that is falling out is being replaced with baby fuzz hair. It looks like I have more bald patches than hair patches now but the fuzz means it doesn’t feel that way.

    Apply sunscreen to my head results in a hand full of little hairs!

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    I am reminded with each new experience to that I am approaching this chemo thing (and cancer thing) with a sense of curiosity, and that is what is keeping me sane. Now I’m off for a walk/dance 🙂

     

     

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