New Oncologist - Same Plan

Had my first appointment with a different oncologist. The last one wasn't a good personality match for me. This guy walked in the room and first thing he did was look in my face and shake my hand, my husband too. He said hello to us.  Nicely done, Doc.

Maybe it was in my chart that we are difficult and need to be pampered. Fine with me. At least the guy said hello to us and made eye contact. He talked to us, explained things, and answered questions. He didn't rush us. It was a pleasant change from the first doctor we saw. Whew.

But, the treatment plan is not much different. It is a lot of treatment for what my surgeon says is no cancer. According to the oncologist, the cancer could still be in me and the biology of the cancer is very very bad. I have no choice but to aggressively treat it. I really don't like the sound of that at all. I feel like I have nothing wrong with me and I'm treating a possibility that there might be some cancer cell in me. There might not be a single bad cell in my body. Or, there might be lots of them. They can't tell.

The treatment is:  Surgery to place a port-a-cath in my chest. This is a little doo-hickey that is like a catheter for the I.V.s of chemo drugs. It goes under my skin. I have to have surgery to have it installed. The doctor and nurse said it's no big deal, very easy, in and out of surgery, piece of cake. Keith didn't think it sounded like a big deal either.  Apparently, I'm the only one who thinks having surgery on my sore chest to put in a catheter under my skin and into my blood vessels is kind of a big deal.  It's surgery.

And the port goes under my skin, so they still have to poke me through my skin with a needle. I think this makes it easier for the chemo nurses, not sure if it benefits me in any way, but I will get to have a piece of cake surgery to put it in, and I assume, another easy breezy surgery to take it out in a year. Where's my sarcasm font?

Then I will have a year of chemo.  Only, it's not all called chemo. It is but it isn't. I will have a mixture of harsh drugs called TCH for 18 weeks and after that, only one drug: herceptin. Once I'm down to the one drug they don't call it chemo anymore. So, I will have 4 months of chemo and 8 months of herceptin - the drug that accompanies chemo and  is administered exactly like chemo, but isn't technically chemo. I have to get this chemo and not-chemo weekly for a year.

In between the chemo and herceptin, I will have blood draws, shots of various kinds, steroids, and EKGs.  One side effect of these drugs is heart failure, so they are going to keep track of how my heart is doing.

Speaking of side effects, the others are:  nausea, mouth sores that go from your mouth all the way through your digestive system, constipation, diarrhea, menopause, memory fog and cognative thinking loss, loss of hair, discoloration and loss of fingernails and toenails, bone and joint pain, numbing of the toes and feet, heart failure, and death.

Since I'll be having chemo every week, I won't be able to travel. No vacation for me. I won't be able to go places with the kids either. I will be sick and weak and bald. I won't be able to do much besides puke and go back for more. It will be a rough year. I won't be able to be much of a mom to my kids, grandma to my grandsons, or much of a wife to my husband. They will all have to get along without me for the most part while I sleep it off or whatever it is I have to do. I hope they will go on vacation, I don't want to ruin all the fun. Sure wish I could join my family for our family time though.

After I'm done with my year of being a pincushion, I will be on a pill called Tamoxifen for five years. It has it's own special side effects too.

This doctor didn't mention anything about having a total hysterectomy to prevent the hormones in my body from feeding the cancer. The doctor we saw last week said that, but this guy didn't. I don't want to have unnecessary surgeries. But I will have to  have the surgery to install the port and another surgery to take it out. That's two extra surgeries right there. I know, I know, they're a piece of cake.

When all is said and done, I still won't have any guarantee that my chances of getting cancer again are gone. I will have a 25% chance of getting cancer after all of this. The new cancer will probably be in my lungs, liver, bones or brain.

I have to take a chemo-education class next week and then I have to get started with this treatment. They don't want to waste any time.

All of this awful treatment means that I have to tell the kids that I have breast cancer. They don't know yet and I wanted it to remain that way. We are going to have to be upfront and honest with them and they are going to have to become independent little kids since I won't be doing much for them any longer.

If this blog post sounds like it has a depressing tone to it, well then, you caught me. I'm feeling very mad, sad, and upset over the whole entire deal. I have every right to feel any way I please about this situation, and right now, I feel depressed. I feel scared. I feel punished. I feel sentenced. Don't tell me that it'll all be ok, that I'm being dramatic, or not to be so glum. Please do not tell me I'm strong, I can do this, I've got this, and all that sort of nonsense. I am not strong and I don't want to even try to live up to that kind of expectation. I also don't want to hear about how God is doing me a favor, or giving me just what I can handle. That's a bunch of hooey. I know people mean well when they say these things, but those kind of words are not helping me right now. All I can think is why would God give me two wonderful and healthy children and then punish them by giving their mom cancer before they have a chance to grow up feeling carefree. Or just because a person is strong or can handle rough situations, that is not a reason to punish a person and put them and their family through hell. So, these kind encouraging words are more appreciated if you think them and not say them. Thanks.