As usual, it's been way too long since my last post. I'm sorry about that, because I should have been keeping you up to date along the way. Instead of an incremental accumulation of information, you get a big batch - a data dump, a bolus, an almost incomprehensible amalgamation of news from me. Like I said, I'm sorry.
But, really, I'm sorry for us.
T has breast cancer.
FUCK YOU, CANCER, I'M TIRED OF YOU FUCKING UP PEOPLE IN MY LIFE! I'M TIRED OF YOU TAKING THEM AWAY FROM ME! I'M TIRED OF YOU DOMINATING THE WAY WE MANAGE TO SCRATCH OUT AN EXISTENCE AROUND YOU! FUCK YOU, SO MUCH!
Sorry. Had to say that. And, so much more, but whatever. I know that you have all said it too. Over and over and over again. Really, the question is, 'Who's not tired of that asshole, Cancer?'
So, yeah, prepare yourselves from posts about shitty stuff. Again, sorry. You know what I would rather blog about? Flowers. Springtime. Puppies. Happy shit.
Remember when I lasted posted? And I was so blithely happy, looking forward to my visit with my kid and my two besties? Yeah. That was awesome. I'm glad I had that minute of joy. Because it shortly turned to ashes.
So, here's how it has played out so far.
December: "Oh, hell. We forgot to schedule our mammogram in November." "Ok, let's do it now, at the end of December, before your insurance runs out." [cue music]
Communication from Women's Imaging dept: "Please call us to schedule a follow up appointment."
Us: "Shoot. Insurance just ended.""Oh, it's probably another harmless cyst." "Insurance starts again in 90 days, We'll schedule it then."
Radiology: "Where the hell have you been? We need follow up imaging STAT!"
Us: "Uh oh."
Follow up mammogram.
Follow up ultrasound. With needle biopsy.
Follow up MRI. New findings.
Follow up ultrasound. Inconclusive.
Secondary pathology results.
Meet with surgeon.
Meet with more providers than we expected.
Schedule so much shit.
At first we were handling it well. Yes, both of us. The initial treatment plan was a quick lumpectomy and radiation. Ok, that's shitty. But, we can deal with it. We feel confident about surviving it and thriving afterwards. Then the secondary pathology results came back. The dreaded HR2 receptor was active. Suddenly, we switched tracks from manageable to a whirlwind of medicine.
These results came back on Thursday morning, just in time for Tumor Board. The oncology team was increased from Surg Onc and Rad Onc to include Med Onc. Yes, that's the provider no one wants to have on their team. The Chemotherapy doctors.
At this point, T finally cracked. She had been firmly positive and determined about the early prognosis. But, when the chemotherapy and all it's side effects were added into the equation, her confidence took a heavy blow. Her outlook plummeted. It has been a shitty weekend after a month fraught with doubt and dismay.
We have appointments coming up this weekend. Follow up MRI. Possible MR guided needle biopsy. EKG to see if her heart is ok for chemo. Decision about lumpectomy vs mastectomy. Place a fucking port. Because, T's going to have a year of chemo.
Things are not great around here. We've got a whole lot of stuff to process right now. (As the kids say, 'all the feels'... except, I guess, not the good ones.)
Silver Lining: T has talked to quite a few friends and relative about it. (So not like my family!) We have pretty firm and believable offers of help for the next 18 weeks. Our best neighbor, who will be off work (public school employee) and T's best friend, Chris, who is self employed, have both offered to drive her to and from chemo and other appointments. Lots of other friends have offered to help, or offered to bring food, and I appreciate every single one of them, Her other bestie has already brought us dinner on a night when we had an MRI at 7:30pm. Thank the Goddess for friends!
It'll be a long road. Here's to the end ... ::clink:: ::cheers::
In the meantime, here's a picture of the grandpuppy!
Zoe is bringing him down next weekend. A combination of mother's day and cheer up T day. Bless her heart...