It’s been a week since the oncologist told me that I wouldn’t need chemo. And that means that my life can largely go back to normal. I have one more plastic surgery that will likely be in late April or early May, but I think that should be out patient surgery and not too much of a big deal, though you should feel free to shower me with baked goods, regardless. I’ve been on tamoxifen for about a week, and though I’ve had a headache 2 of those days, my guess is that those headaches are just related to the overall nuttiness of my everyday life, and not to the drugs.
I am incredibly relieved (still) that chemo is not part of my breast cancer experience. I really feel like I got off easy and I keep waiting for a call that the oncologist has changed her mind. I was diagnosed at the end of November, had my first surgery in January, will probably have my (hopefully!) final surgery in April or May, and then it will just be routine maintenance (knock on wood) from there. 6 months, beginning to “end.” And I am thrilled for my family that we can be on the road to normal (or what passes for normal in our house) now. The kids have moved ahead almost as though nothing ever happened. Jon’s work schedule is returning to the long hours and travel that preceded my diagnosis. The food is still showing up at my doorstep, but only for another week or so, except for the zucchini muffins that I hope Bridget will continue to bring as long as we live here.
So it seems that the only thing that isn’t back to normal is me. I mean, I have plenty of moments when everything is fine. I even have moments when I almost forget about the surgery and feel totally like myself. But the truth is, there is no way you can go through what I’ve gone through and not come out a different person. And I think it’s too soon to know exactly what that means.
The changes are as simple as needing to go to the dentist, but vaguely remembering something in my volumes of medical paperwork about going on antibiotics before having any dental work done, and then wondering which of my many doctors I call to ask about that, and not really wanting to go through the exercise of calling any of my doctors to ask, and then not wanting to go to the dentist because I’ll have to go through the story of the last several months, which I’m just not in the mood to do. And when I fill out medical histories now, I can’t just mindlessly check “no” all the way down the form, which I always could before. And once you check “yes” there are all the follow-up questions. And should I not be eating soy and soy-based products because there’s a chance that the isoflavones (whatever those are) may interfere with drugs like tamoxifen. And now that my cancer is gone, do I have to stop drinking peppermint mochas (an indulgence I allowed myself after my diagnosis) and go back to the “healthier” cappuccino I had been drinking, or should I just give up caffeine all together, because I vaguely remember some article that discussed a link between caffeine and breast cancer? And in the grand scheme of things, these are minor frustrations, but in the aggregate, they mean something, I think. And then I feel bad for complaining about little stuff like this because I’m so fortunate not to have bigger things to complain about, like several months of injecting poison into my body, hair loss, and nausea. And as an aside, do non-Jewish people feel the kind of guilt that I do for not needing chemo? Is this just cultural guilt? Anyone?
Anyway, I said back in November that by all accounts I should end up healthy and well, it was just a question of how hard the road would be and how long it would take. And on the spectrum of people with breast cancer, my road so far has been short and relatively easy. But that doesn’t mean my time on the road, however short it was, doesn’t stay with me, in ways I didn’t expect and couldn’t have imagined, and sometimes can’t even explain (see e.g., this post, which I think may be a little scattered, at best). And I’m guessing that this seems obvious to all of you, and probably would have been obvious to me if I were on the outside looking in.
And now I’m going to go pick up Abigail from school, drop her at tennis, and then go pick up Benjamin at school, and bring him back to pick up Abigail at tennis, because it’s a normal Friday afternoon and that’s what we do, which, despite everything else I’ve said in this post, really does feel good.
Yes, having breast cancer changes you. You will never get the “oh, it can’t happen to me” innocence back. You will know it can because it did. You should chose a healthy diet because one of the side effects of Tamoxifen is weight gain. A healthy diet will also help protect you from colon cancer, which is one of the second primary cancer risks with breast cancer.
The antibiotics before dental work is for women who are currently or have recently taken chemotherapy, so don’t worry about that. Also, your dentist will tell you if he would feel better about you having the prophylaxis. If he wants it, he may be able to write the prescription. If he can’t, then go to your oncologist for the prescription. Or better yet, ask your dentist to make the request to your oncologist. That way you wont get stuck in the middle of a dispute. Do not go to your primary care doctor with the request because for the most part they have little knowledge about the effects of cancer treatment on a persons body and psych. Believe it or not, your dentist will have a better understanding.
A little indulgence is good for the spirit, but be kind to your body also. My oncologist maintains that there isn’t enough known about isoflavones to make a determination either way. He leaves it up to me, but I hate tofu and soy milk anyway.
I can’t tell you if guilt is a Jewish thing because I did take chemo. But believe me there is plenty of guilt to spread around with this disease. Every time they come up with a new risk factor for breast cancer I’m either guilty because I did this to my body. Conversely, when they come up with a protector against breast cancer I’m mad because I did that and it didn’t work. I wish I could make you understand how much survivors love to hear that a fellow survivor will be spared a walk through fire when someone comes up with the good news of no chemo. We honestly know in the middle that nobody should have to go through this. That’s why we dress up in pink and parade through town. If we can convince someone to catch it early and be spared the treatment, we certainly will.
It is so important to pick up your life and live it fully. That is the thing that is going to heal your psych, so embrace it.
Best of luck.
lis- thank you for writing this. it’s a strange thing when life goes back to ‘normal’ but the main character of your life, has a new normal, but still hasn’t figured out what that looks and feels like. its so good to be in touch with your feelings.
i think the guilt thing is a flaw in our human condition! Even in the new testament Christian world- of free forgiveness- it still rears it’s ugly head. my mom calls this thing ‘false guilt’ which is appropriate. i was just at a conference in kenya for medical missionaries- and i was hearing all these crazy stories about people living in the bush with nothing- trying to help people with little supplies and no electricity and no roads to get people transported etc. – i was talking to my dad about how easy we have it- he said ‘you feel badly that you’re not suffering enough?’ it’s pervasive! i think we can use it for good though- to turn it into thanks and a better understanding about the hardships of others. i know when i’m feeling guilty for having an ‘easy’ african life- it means the focus is all about me- even in judgement- its all about me.
you’re wonderful- wish i could join you for a peppermint mocha and a long conversation!!
xo
I love you for writing about this process. I cannot imagine how I would feel (well, I CAN imagine it, but who knows what I’d actually feel) going through that pink mess (what else can it be called without invoking the C word?). And I’m glad your Fridays are back to shuttling the kids about. Keep writing about whatever. I love it. Mwah! xoxo
what a great post.
what happened matters. too tired to say more.
hugs.
It’s easy for someone to tell you not to feel guilty. It’s harder to accept. Just like trying to accept the diagnosis. I’m still waiting for it to fully sink in & I received my diagnosis in October & had a modified radical mastectomy..
Even though you didn’t have to endure chemo, you’ve suffered enough. YOU HAD BREAST CANCER! The acknowledgement of that diagnosis alone is more suffering than anyone should endure. You had a significant surgery – you suffered enough. You have to take a very serious drug for a very long time – you’re suffering enough. You’re facing MORE surgeries – you;re suffering enough.
Today, I finished my last round (#8) of chemo – WOOHOO! I’ve been extremely lucky with chemo in that I had NO nausea and no weight loss during this treatment and you can bet your bottom dollar, I DO NOT FEEL GUILTY! I did loose all my hair, my nails all stopped growing and turned black, and I have neuropathy in my hands and feet. Now I have 6 weeks (30 rounds) of radiation to endure.
Everyone who gets this diagnosis & goes on this journey to be healed suffers enough, no matter which route gets them there. I sincerely hope you can get past this guilt feeling and I wish you a total recovery.
Good luck!
ILYAYJGTM…can you figured that out?
ps…I need to subscribe to this blog cause FB didn’t tell me about this post…so I was just checking to see if anything was new and found it! Brills as usual!