Ok, so I made one unrecoverable mistake... Discussing the options with my first oncologist led me to believe that most likely I would be having chemo first, then radiation, then estrogen "blockers". So, being a planner, I decided that my hair was too long to be falling out all over the house so I went to a hair salon and said "Just cut it short." It didn't really matter what it looked like, right (?) since it would all be gone in a few weeks. So, chop it off they did. Easy to take care of and much cooler for Florida summer living.
Back to the oncologist for the oncogene results and she says "Good news!!! " With a range of 1 to 100 and '1' being awesome, my results were a FIVE. "Very good results, so good in fact, that you don't need chemo!!" Ok, so my first thought was 'my hair!!!' but that passed quickly. Mostly, I am just so grateful not to need chemotherapy.
Skip Chemo, straight to radiation. What a relief. The people at South Florida Radiation Oncology on Military Trail in Palm Beach Gardens are the best. Six weeks, five to go, but at least it's with some of the nicest people I've encountered in this journey. From the receptionist to the oncologist, they are all amazing.
Read, read, read. Few people suffer any adverse side effects. Painless. Hmmm. Can this really be so easy? Takes a week to have my settings designed perfectly so only the breast tissue is radiated and as little as possible of anything else. They actually made a firm foam impression of my body lying in the correct position so I can get into the same position each time. Three tattoos and a sticker with an "X" that marks the spot and I'm set to go.
First treatment comes and I'm a little nervous not really knowing what to expect. I close my eyes. Try to clear my mind. The machine is circling around me making buzzes and beeps. It feels as though an alien is inspecting me. Lead teeth under the glass open and close. Wait... I think I can feel warmth in the area they are radiating. Yes, if I really concentrate, I can feel the radiation flooding my breast with warmth. Interesting. At that moment, the technician walks in and says, "Ok, we are going to start now. Lie still."
So much for my acute awareness of my physical senses.
One great thing I've learned so far is that, as far as for me, getting my actual 'plan of attack' decided was the most difficult part. Not knowing what I needed to do and having to decide what was best -- total mastectomy vs. partial, chemo vs. no chemo, which doctors I felt most comfortable with --- that was the hard part. Those decisions behind me, the fog has lifted and the stress is gone. I would have thought the treatments themselves would be stressful, but I just lie there and imagine all the little cancer cells left behind are shriveling up and dying. In at 11:15 am each day and literally done by 11:30 am. Not bad at all so far.
One great thing I've learned so far is that, as far as for me, getting my actual 'plan of attack' decided was the most difficult part. Not knowing what I needed to do and having to decide what was best -- total mastectomy vs. partial, chemo vs. no chemo, which doctors I felt most comfortable with --- that was the hard part. Those decisions behind me, the fog has lifted and the stress is gone. I would have thought the treatments themselves would be stressful, but I just lie there and imagine all the little cancer cells left behind are shriveling up and dying. In at 11:15 am each day and literally done by 11:30 am. Not bad at all so far.
Today I finished treatment #8. Twenty-two to go and this little stop of my journey will be complete.
Wonder where I'll travel next...
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