And Every Day Is Halloween!

Goodbye Pinktober. Yet the pink crap hangs around. Sure the big displays on endcaps and in aisles will be packed away, but you can always find pink ribbon crap around in stores, all year long.  It makes a bit of a comeback in the spring also, for some reason. But I'm glad to see the end of the pink party. Buh-bye Pinktober!

I love Halloween. It's my favorite holiday. It's full of scary, spooky fun. But there is that "fear" that is part of my life, and I totally hate it. "The fear"....the bc fear. Fear of recurrence. Fear of metastasis. Fear of having to do it all over again, be bald, feel shitty, wonder if I'm gonna live through it. It sucks, but it's part of the "new normal" for most bc people. And sadly, so far, nothing from all that pink awareness has done anything to even begin to corrected that. 

Anyway... I appreciate (every day) that I am one who is so very fortunate that I can choose to not allow that effin fear be part of my day today. (So many are not. And no thanks to the pink awareness.) 

It's Halloween, I love it, and I'm going to enjoy it. 

And I'm going to try (harder) to make every day like Halloween...

Buh-bye Pinktober! 

Just Beat It

Ok, time for a bit of a rant. (Again?) And maybe I'm just too sensitive, need a thicker skin...whatever. And this post has been in draft and rewrites since before I reached the end of all the cancer doctor appointments for this year. And I'm pretty sure a bit of what I'm bout to say will make me unpopular with some.  

I'm sure we're all seeing this, especially now that we're right in the middle of the pink craziness that is October....banners and pictures that state: "When breast cancer is detected early, the 5 year survival rate is 98%." This is starting to grind my very last damn nerve. That number...98%, includes so many people who will not survive bc.  This number is based on still being alive after 5 years.  So you catch it early, do treatment, survive 5 years, you are counted as a survivor.  If you get diagnosed with metastasis of your bc, even the day after your 5 year cancerversary, (or even in the middle) well, then, I guess you get counted again as part of the 30% of bc people who will get metastasis, even years and years later.  So now you're both a "survivor" and a stage 4 patient. Mine was not considered "early stage" by the way. 

So recently I've had more than one person tell me that I'm allowing "the fear" to ruin the rest of my cancer free life, every day, and that it's such a shame, since I've "already beat it".  (Obviously people are super weary of my bc talk this time of year.) Some expressed this opinion to me in a friendlier manner than some others did. But not all the people who know and care for me think this way...Or at least I don't thinks so... Maybe there are some who are keeping it to themselves if they feel this way about the way I'm handling my survivorship.... Well...if only there was a point where we can know for absolute sure that bc is done...not coming back, I wouldn't get so bent when people say that kind of thing to me. But, sadly, we aren't there yet.  And, although I've blogged this nine ways from hell to breakfast, it bears repeating....bc is an asshole... it's a kind of cancer where there is no amount of cancer free time that indicates "yer done". Ok? There's just not!! And it could come back, or worse, metastasize, at any time, regardless of the stage at initial diagnosis and regardless of treatment chosen. And it can come back as a totally different kind of bc than what you started with too, so there's that. Pretty much about 30% of people diagnosed will have stage 4 bc.  And it sucks. And this is where "the fear" comes in when dealing with oncology style of appointments.  

Now, I can confirm that, each year I'm better at managing this effin "fear".  Less and less of my time is consumed with bc issues now.  BUT, when faced with a mammo, or oncologist, or blood work....yeah....it rears it's ugly head.  And from what I can tell from talking with others, it's completely normal and natural.  I allow myself to feel how I feel. 

And if "beating it" were as simple as only eating organic, consuming tons of kale and blueberries, chowing down on lentils while burning patchouli incense and singing "Kum Ba Yah" around a fire pit, then surely info on this would take bc treatment more that way, oncologists would prescribe it & proclaim the elusive cure has been found, and no more with the "slash / poison / burn" treatment.  Ya know?

Anyway, we're all (bc people) gonna have those anxious moments... please don't make the mistake of telling us to just be all super happy & positive 100% of the time cause we've "beat it".  

Only if and when I'm privileged enough to become much, much older and / or pass from something other than bc.... Then I've beaten it.

Just sayin...

Ok, end rant.

Breathe With Me....

So, I tried something a little different for this round of visits to all the doctors.  I didn't come on this blog, or even social media, all whining & lamenting ad nauseam for days and days about each and every single one of my appointments this time around.  No, rather, I blogged that they were looming ever closer a time or two, and left it at that.  But now that I've seen all the docs, and had the dreaded mammogram, I'm here to say that we lived through it...I'm still married...(LOL), and I'm still in the clear.  

NOW I can celebrate the gratitude for still being here, five years out.  And we do know, again, five years doesn't mean much for bc, but it's still pretty damn huge.  Especially for the kind of bc bs I had.

And, another something a little different. Although this last appointment yesterday with the always excellent Dr W was the last to officially "graduate" me to ANNUAL appointments, from six month appointments, my oncology team and I would still like for an oncology minded doctor to put his eyes (and hands) on me, at least every six months.  How can this work?  Well, Dr W said that he has no problem with a slingshot into 2016...as in, I will not see him again until March, 2016.  Then it will be him annually in March, and Dr V / mammo annually in September.  

Ok, let's back up to the beginning.  It started with the mammogram.  I was a little extra nervous this time because, exactly one week prior, I noticed a firm, round, lump thingy in my chest, on the bc side, about an inch and a half below my collar bone.  And I just KNEW it was a bad lymph node.  Just knew it! So I asked the mammo tech to feel it.  She wasn't impressed with it at all.  And this diagnostic mammo was fine and I was told I can now move to "regular annual screening" mammos, if the ordering physician agrees.  

So the next day was the visit with the most excellent surgeon, the "ordering physician" Dr V. I put his hand on this newly found round thingy.  He wasn't impressed with it either.  I asked about having an ultrasound on it. He was happy to order it, but felt nothing was even going to show up. Said it may very well just plain simple be my body.  So I agreed....he IS the boss of this stuff anyway.... If it changes or grows at all, call and we'll check it out further. So that was that, and I decided to try not to worry with it anymore. 

Next up was the annual physical with Dr C.  He gets to be the "scary doctor" this time, cause he's in charge of running the blood work that the oncologist, Dr W, will look at to determine my future.  Had a nice visit.  I decided to have Dr C also put his hand on the little round lump thingy.  He totally dismissed it as a possible "nothing lump thing", like a "subcutaneous round cyst lump of nothing", or something along those lines.  So, at this point, I'm not concerning myself with it anymore.  Unless it gets bigger.  So I'm trying to stop touching it constantly.  Maybe just check it monthly, like I'm supposed to be checking my boobs.   And the blood work came in with perfect results, as usual. Oh, and O told me so. LOL! ;)

Anyway, back to yesterday's appointment...it was probably the most lovely visit I've ever had with Dr W, second only the the very first visit we had with him way back in 2009.  And at the end he gave me the most nicest, sincere hug.  And I left floating out the door on Cloud 9. 

And then O took me out to the nearby Cheesecake Factory for a lovely lunch and my annual, celebratory, and very over priced Grey Goose Martini with Bleu Cheese Olive.  And it was Awesomeness.  (I know, I know...do as I say, not as I do, y'all! LOL!)

And that wraps this year's tour of oncology appointments.  I'm in the clear, still dancin with NED for another year. 

Exhale!
Exhale!
Exhale!

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