The Plan and Prognosis

 I wanted to let my closest 500 friends know about my diagnosis because I believe in the power of community, and even more in the power of prayer. I've seen how incredible a support network can be. That said, it felt a little weird just throwing it out there for all to see. I was unprepared for the response of love and generosity that would come our way. I can't begin to say enough in gratitude for those that have reached out in countless ways--those that are already friends and family, and those who have just seen a need and chosen to give. I am humbled. 

I know it's taken me awhile to get beyond just the "I have cancer" post. Many have reached out and want to know the details, and I'm struggling to keep up with life, appointments, kids, work, etc. so this seemed like a good place to get into the details. Here is what I know about my cancer and my treatment so far:

I have been diagnosed with Stage 3 Her2 Positive breast cancer. This is considered "good news" (you know, as far as the "you have cancer" news goes), because it's highly treatable, despite the fact that it's a very aggressive cancer. There are "smart" drugs (as my Oncologist calls them) that target the Her2 proteins and are very effective in killing them off. Where 95% of women once died from this cancer, now 95% of women survive with this treatment. I currently have 2 tumors in one breast and it has spread into the lymph nodes as well.

Because my cancer responds well to chemo and targeted treatment, the plan is for me to start chemo (as soon as we can get someone to take me), along with the additional drugs for 4 months. At that point they plan to do removal and reconstructive surgery, followed by radiation and an additional year of targeted treatment. The first four months will be when I will have the typical chemo-related symptons, and I will lose my hair. The remaining time I should be able to feel well and the targeted treatment will just continue to ensure nothing comes back. I was elated after talking this through with my Surgeon. I know that sounds strange, because that actually sounds pretty awful. But the days leading up to this news were full of unknowns. I knew I had cancer. I knew it had spread. I was told I would likely have immediate surgery and I have seen others go through those surgeries and seen the complications they've experienced. Once I'd talked to the doctor, I knew there was a plan. And, it felt like I could do it.

Since the initial conversation, the roller coaster ride has continued. That high was abruptly deflated when the Oncologist office I was referred to refused to accept my health coverage and I was left waiting for a new solution. I finally got in last week to see an Oncologist, and he is amazing, but we've had hiccups in trying to get treatments started (once again, thanks to our lovely healthcare system). He's working all angles to help so that hopefully we can get started by next week at the latest. If we can't find another solution he will have to admit me to the hospital, which forces them to treat me without the red tape. That's far from ideal, but we'll see what happens. This is where all those prayers can come in handy! 

Cancer

“Silence like a cancer grows…”

That line has run through my head countless times this past week. The “C” word is obvious, but something else compels me to dwell on it a bit. I think it has something to do with the concept of silence connected to something so intensely consuming, both physically and emotionally.  

I’ve only experienced cancer firsthand for a single month so far, which includes the moment I found the lump and acknowledged something wasn’t quite right. A lifetime of emotions, questions, waiting and wondering seems to have passed since that time. Knowing that this disease has been hiding, camouflaged in my body brings up many questions. Did I do something (or NOT do something) that left me weak and vulnerable? I’m full of new questions I hadn’t thought to ask before. Did I let it in? Could it have been prevented? I’ve tried to be pretty healthy throughout my life. I am active; I eat lots of fruits and veggies, and we haven’t even had a microwave for the past year (I did give in and buy one this week. Partially because other people will be helping me out a lot more, but also because let’s face it… if I’m going to have cancer anyway, I might as well cut down on time spent cooking and cleaning).

Clearly, I’m struggling with what I did to let cancer in, but it’s even harder to deal with the reality that I can’t just make it go away. I am a fixer, and when something isn’t right, I’ll do everything in my power to make it better. I’ve never wanted to take a shower so much as I have the last few weeks. I want to force the showerhead into my chest to wash the cancer out, or flush it out with a magic detox drink. But I can’t just make it go away, which I guess gives God the perfect opportunity to continue teaching me patience and trust.

My desire to “fix” my situation, and my questions about how I got here aren’t a need to change my circumstance or dwell on the past. I accept them as a part of this process. A need to work through a new reality, a new journey. I don’t feel sorry for myself. I’m not angry, at least not at this stage. Am I scared? Definitely. But I’ve been assured that this is part of God’s plan for me, so I know there are things I’m ready to learn, and He will be there with me along the way. He always has been, and He always will be. Cancer quietly lodged itself next to my heart, and I don’t like it there. But as I start to get answers about the path ahead, I’m starting to feel a new peace, and hope for a future full of beautiful reminders that God is there, and He’s taking this journey with me.