Doctors can get sick too!

Today I went for my yearly OB/GYN wellness appointment. I was looking forward to chatting with my favorite doctor who first found my ER+, stage III breast cancer back in 2007 and saved my life, literally. I wanted her to know that unfortunately my cancer had metastasized last year (stage IV, on my chest wall) but that I was doing very well after 36 radiation treatments and two "clear" CT scans. I brought along copies of all the medical reports I had collected over the past year, blood work, CT scans, PET scans, bone scans, etc. I was shown into her exam room where the nurse instructed me to put on the white paper exam costume and that my doctor would be in soon. The nurse and I were discussing which tests Medicare would cover for me this year. After I said I thought the only yearly test covered this visit would be my mammogram, she told me that my wonderful, beautiful doctor was recently diagnosed with breast cancer too. I was devastated. She was the only medical professional in the 6 years prior to my first visit with her who was worried enough about my "lump" to order a biopsy. My doctor is young. She is one of those physicians who sincerely cares about their patients. You sense it, you feel it, and you love them for it. After she came in and my exam was concluded we talked about her sad news. I wanted to help her. The only thing I could do was give her information about my experience. She asked some questions about my radiation therapy, how long, scheduling, fatigue, etc. I told her what to expect based on my treatments, about the burns and the creams to soothe them. She is having to go through chemo before she has a bilateral mastectomy and then she will have radiation. I asked her if she was going to have reconstruction. She said no. I told her I had decided not to have reconstruction either in case I had a recurrence, a good decision. We hugged and cried together for a few minutes. We hugged again and she made me promise to keep her up to date on the status of my breast cancer and I asked her if I could call to check on her progress too. Doctors are not immune. Keeping my fingers crossed for both of us!

The ALIEN

I think of it (metastatic, stage 4 breast cancer) as "a visiting alien from planet cancer" who avoids extermination because of its superior estrogen positive (ER+) alien technology and need to feed. It returned because it wanted to be close to me like some clingy lover I rejected, who has since become a sinister stalker that I cannot escape. Radiation therapy is complete (36 days), blood work and CT scans are finished, doctors visits are a wrap, results have been verified. The alien is gone.  No more 'mass lesion' according to the guy who interprets my CT scans. Maybe the little buggar is gone for good, but I thought that before too. Monitoring of the chest wall site every three months by CT scans and blood work will be my new normal for many years. I am back on the aromatase inhibitor pill once a day to keep my body's estrogen levels at, or near, zero. This little pill's chemical component is starving the alien so it is a good pill. I know what this chemical can do and how it will make me feel, so I have evaluated what aches and pains I can deal with and how to adapt to any discomfort. It should be easier this time. I now find I can tolerate a lot more pain if I concentrate on blocking the sensations mentally. I refuse to give in to swallowing pain meds (for temporary relief) every time I get a twinge. It's difficult for me to believe that the "tumor" is truly dissolved or dead or whatever happens to it after radiation therapy. But, I will relax for now and enjoy my oncologist's current diagnosis. Soon I will return to my neurotic monitoring of any new lumps and bumps, just in case the alien returns.

Growing Old Isn't For Sissies...

Yep, my breast cancer has come back. Sneaky. My oncologist ordered the usual blood tests back in November 2014 and the one for 'tumor marker CA 15-3' was elevated about 100 points. One year I'm cancer free and the next I've got a lesion on my chest wall. Just goes to show that you can't be too optimistic even if the statistics say you can. After my mastectomy, the pathologist wrote that I had a 'nine percent' chance of the cancer returning in the next ten years. It's been seven years. I'm getting ready to go for about 40 treatments (8 weeks) of radiation therapy. Then another CT scan to see if the treatments worked. I'm back on Femara (an aromatase inhibitor, which works by reducing the amount of estrogen produced in the bodies of postmenopausal women, like me) because the lesion is 100% estrogen receptor positive (which, I've been told, is a good thing). Now I'm looking at another 5 years of watch and wait and treat. Kinda feels like my life has been put on hold again. But, having been through this once before, I'm getting prepared for the long haul. I always had it in the back of my mind that this could happen and now it has. Not a big surprise but a big disappointment. In the words of Bette Davis "Growing old isn't for sissies" and having cancer seems more and more to be a part of growing old. There is some hope on the horizon (Ibrance by Pfizer). There are FDA trials going on that could result in a cure. Ladies, stay vigilant.