I was fortunate to have my drains removed nine days post-op. That was fantastic! The drain sites on my left side felt like someone was constantly stabbing me. Since having them removed I've been able to stop taking my pain meds and muscle relaxers and have been cleared to drive again. Freedom! Although, I still don't have a ton of energy and I'm still pretty sore so my outings aren't very exciting -- maybe lunch, a quick errand, and a doctor's appointment.
This whole thing is still so foreign to me. I try and try to wrap my brain around it but I fail. I've been pouring over the final pathology and surgery reports, reading and rereading them, as if some light bulb of acceptance will eventually go off and I'll find peace with all of it. So that pink file folder with my name on it sits on my nightstand, waiting for my next study session, the next time I'm grasping for understanding. I read the parts about the type of anesthesia used, the sentinel node biopsy, the dissection of my chest, the muscles, the wound beds, the transfer of my breasts to pathology, the dissection of them, the preparation for testing...and it goes on and on. And now I sound insane. I promise I'm not, at least not totally. We're a medically & scientifically oriented household. Methods, procedures, numbers, percentages -- they make sense to me. I'm just having a hard time reconciling that side of my brain with the emotions that come with being the patient. This pink file folder -- it has my name on it, just like the one that holds my initial pathology report, the one that started this ordeal, the one with the paper that says "invasive ductal carcinoma." Just a small lump of cells...
Logically, I know I'm fortunate to not need chemo. But there's still one last and very long hurdle. For the next 10 years I'll take a drug called Tamoxifen. My type of cancer is estrogen and progesterone receptor positive, which means that the tumor feeds off of those hormones. Tamoxifen works to block the hormones and keep the cancer cells from dividing & multiplying. Sounds great and it is. It's a very effective cancer drug with proven results. The possible side effects can be nasty though -- hot flashes (common), blood clots (uncommon), endometrial & uterine cancers (uncommon), among others. Because I have a history of clotting (massive DVT in 2002), my oncologist has decided to have me take Coumadin (common blood thinner) while on Tamoxifen. I'll likely be a frequent flyer for labs at the cancer center while we try to stabilize my clotting level (INR), especially since Tamoxifen is known to increase the effect of Coumadin.
You may be wondering why I'm taking a drug to prevent the recurrence of breast cancer if I no longer have breasts. Good question. It's impossible to remove every bit of breast tissue. As long as even one cell exists that cell could multiply and mutate. Cancer could return in the remaining chest tissue and/or lymph nodes or can return as tumors in different areas of the body. The numbers are in my favor given my tumor/cancer profile and lack of cancer in the lymph nodes BUT taking Tamoxifen lowers my risk even further. Being a young women with breast cancer carries a lot of unknowns since most of the research is on older women and focuses on a 5-10 year survival rate. A 10-year survival is pretty good for a 65-year-old. Not great for a 36-year-old. So, Tamoxifen it is.
People keep asking how I'm doing. Physically, I'm healing really well, one benefit of being younger. I'm getting my energy back, my pain isn't too bad, and I'm returning to some normal activities. My arms are still a little weak since my muscles are weird with the reconstruction in progress. Emotionally, I'm not even sure what I am. Some days I stay busy and don't have time to think about anything. Other days I'm on the verge of tears for hours at a time over nothing specific. Some days I feel guilty for even worrying about this little stage 1 diagnosis, but other days I'm so sickened by this interruption and how it's changed my body. I know I'll feel "normal" again but I know it won't be soon.
Logically, I know I'm fortunate to not need chemo. But there's still one last and very long hurdle. For the next 10 years I'll take a drug called Tamoxifen. My type of cancer is estrogen and progesterone receptor positive, which means that the tumor feeds off of those hormones. Tamoxifen works to block the hormones and keep the cancer cells from dividing & multiplying. Sounds great and it is. It's a very effective cancer drug with proven results. The possible side effects can be nasty though -- hot flashes (common), blood clots (uncommon), endometrial & uterine cancers (uncommon), among others. Because I have a history of clotting (massive DVT in 2002), my oncologist has decided to have me take Coumadin (common blood thinner) while on Tamoxifen. I'll likely be a frequent flyer for labs at the cancer center while we try to stabilize my clotting level (INR), especially since Tamoxifen is known to increase the effect of Coumadin.
You may be wondering why I'm taking a drug to prevent the recurrence of breast cancer if I no longer have breasts. Good question. It's impossible to remove every bit of breast tissue. As long as even one cell exists that cell could multiply and mutate. Cancer could return in the remaining chest tissue and/or lymph nodes or can return as tumors in different areas of the body. The numbers are in my favor given my tumor/cancer profile and lack of cancer in the lymph nodes BUT taking Tamoxifen lowers my risk even further. Being a young women with breast cancer carries a lot of unknowns since most of the research is on older women and focuses on a 5-10 year survival rate. A 10-year survival is pretty good for a 65-year-old. Not great for a 36-year-old. So, Tamoxifen it is.
People keep asking how I'm doing. Physically, I'm healing really well, one benefit of being younger. I'm getting my energy back, my pain isn't too bad, and I'm returning to some normal activities. My arms are still a little weak since my muscles are weird with the reconstruction in progress. Emotionally, I'm not even sure what I am. Some days I stay busy and don't have time to think about anything. Other days I'm on the verge of tears for hours at a time over nothing specific. Some days I feel guilty for even worrying about this little stage 1 diagnosis, but other days I'm so sickened by this interruption and how it's changed my body. I know I'll feel "normal" again but I know it won't be soon.
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