Focus

My goal with this blog from the beginning was to share my story, hoping that it would help other women in their late 20's cope with situations, feelings and decisions we're not supposed to be coping with at this age.  I feel like I've lost focus a little and I've not been keeping up with my writing as much as I had hoped to.

To start fresh after almost an entire week of not posting, I have an idea I want to put out there. An idea that I know could potentially help hundreds, maybe even thousands of young women going through what I've gone through over the last couple months.  It's an idea that definitely needs more thought, and maybe even help from others (for sure from a few huge organizations).  Please feel free to leave comments, suggestions, tips, contact information, etc if you think you can help.

Cutting to the chase (you're probably thinking, good LORD this girl is dragging on); I received a pair of these Victoria's Secret pajamas as a gift from my lovely friends Julie & Josh and basically lived in them the first couple of weeks after my surgery.  I loved them so much, I bought a pair for a family friend who had her own bilateral mastectomy a few weeks after mine.  I raved about them to my sister and because of my recommendation, she bought a pair for a client of hers who also had a mastectomy (way too many women dealing with breast cancer for one paragraph, by the way).  The pajamas are amazing, and I'm not just saying that as someone recovering from surgery; I'm sure any lady would be comfortable in them!

I've already written a raving review about these on the Victoria's Secret website (I don't see it, or any other product reviews on their website.  I hope it wasn't just for their R&D team...), but I think it'd be awesome if we could somehow get Victoria's Secret to pair up with the American Cancer Society, or Susan G. Komen to get a pair of these into the hands of every woman having a mastectomy. I plan to mention the pajamas on social media, making sure to tag the above organizations, but I need to do more. What else can I do to make this idea a reality?

Tears

Of JOY!  Psych, I bet you thought after reading the title that something bad had happened.  Nope, not this time!  We just got home from my appointment with Dr. Howe and he gave us the very happy news that I won't need chemo or radiation!

He confirmed that I will have to be on tamoxifen for the next five years, meaning that the hormones in my body will be blocked by the meds, giving me menopause-like symptoms (and not very good for growing a baby). Dr. Howe is having a team member of his refer us to a couple fertility doctors, so we'll definitely be having a baby discussion before I start taking anything.

Hip hip HOORAY!

Nerves

You'd think by now I should be over being nervous for doctors appointments.  I'm not.  Jason and I are meeting with my oncologist over lunch tomorrow to discuss further treatment.  I'm hoping and crossing my fingers and toes that the oncotype test results are in so we can include that information as we decide on a plan of attack.

If the results say the cancer is likely to reoccur, I'm looking at some chemo and/or radiation.  If not, then yippee, neither!!  Either way, it's very likely I'll have to be on Tamoxifen.  I can get into the awesome (sarcasm font) side effects of that tomorrow once I know more, but yikes.  Welcome back nerves!

Third Time's a Charm?

I had the privilege of being drained for the third time today.  Gross right?  How is it possible that over three weeks of healing, I'm still producing enough liquid that it needs to be extracted from me?  Thankfully, it was MUCH less today than it has been the other two times, so I think 1) the room my expanders took up is leaving less room for the liquid and 2) the compression bandage is working.  I've certainly been drinking mine and Jason's share of water the past couple days so maybe that had something to do with it too? 

Tonight I spoke with a lovely woman from Boston who had, 5-6 years ago, been in a very similar situation as mine.  She was 28 at the time of her diagnosis, and although her surgery and (so far) treatments were different, she was able to offer me something no one else at this point has been able to offer: knowing exactly how I feel.  No, she and her then-boyfriend (now husband) weren't trying for a baby like we were at the time of diagnosis, but she understands the fears of recurrence and having cancer constantly on the brain.  It was SO nice talking with her; I'm sure by the end of our 40 minute conversation she was more than ready to hang up, but I'm looking to her as a resource of information so I can't get enough of it. 

I hope that I can be that voice someday, helping another young woman in our situation.

Funk

I had my first bit of bad news yesterday since my initial diagnosis, and it totally put me in a funk for the rest of the day/this morning. It wasn't even news, it was just talking about potential outcomes after surgery.  It's likely that I'll have to take a drug for the next five years that has the potential to put me into early menopause.  If that happens, I'll have to wait five years before carrying my own children.  I think I'm having such a hard time with it because I finally got to the point where I was ready to start having children, and now that I'm ready, I'll have to wait. 

This is all hypothetical of course; we don't know what will happen after surgery so I'm trying not to dwell on the idea.  Before I start any sort of chemical treatment, I'll be meeting with a fertility doctor to talk about potentially freezing eggs for later use.  In my ideal world, if I'm not able to carry a baby for the next five years, I'd get a surrogate to do it for me.  No idea what the cost or emotional repercussions of that are, but I just don't think I (or Jason) can wait that long.  We need something good, and soon.