*** Spoiler alert - this post contains TMI about my long lost boobies ***
Before I was diagnosed, I thought cancer was cancer. Well, maybe I realized that elbow cancer was different from eyelid cancer, but I thought breast cancer was breast cancer. Holy camole, was I wrong! There are endless permutations of what kind of breast cancer one can have, and all of those permutations dictate details like your chance of survival, likelihood of recurrence, and what kind of treatment is recommended.
My tumor was:
- stage Ic
- 2 cm at its widest part (doesn't sound very big, but in cancer-lingo, its not tiny)
- ER+/PR+
- Her2+
- No evidence of it having spread to lymph nodes on either side
- Clean margins (expected, considering that they entire cut both boobs off)
- 5 of 9 on the Nottingham Histologic Scale (i.e., how "ugly" the cancer is)
I won't bore you with what that all means in English. If you're interested, check out this link. Bottom line is that: (i) the ER/PR + means it will respond to hormone therapy like Tamoxifin; (ii) the Her2+ means it grows aggressively and has a higher likelihood of recurrence; and (iii) the existing tumor in the breast has been completely cut out, and there's no solid evidence that there are any other tumors anywhere else.
Insurance also paid for getting a full genetic screening. If you know my family, you know the cancer cards are stacked against me, genetically speaking. But, to my surprise, I had no gene mutations. Which means this cancer was probably caused by exposure, not genetics.
So, you would think that since the margins were clean, and we caught it before it went to the lymph nodes, I would be able to avoid chemo. Not quite. The Her2+ means that its likely to come back, and if it does come back, it will grow wicked fast. Also, because I don't have any breast tissue left, if it comes back, it will be metastatic in another organ. So, the recommended course is to do a standard chemo regimen to clean out any stray cancer cells that might be floating around undetected. That starts next week. More details on that some other day.
See I told you the devil was in the details!
28 December 2016
Laughter is awesome!
My insurance pays for two "breast prosthesis" and a "cranial prosthesis". (That's fake boobies and a wig to normal people). After a long morning of doctors and tests, I went for the fitting this afternoon. Doug came with me. Despite being way too sober for that kind of torture, it was actually fun!
The ladies at the shop were freaking awesome. They certainly gauged their interactions by my mood. The wig (uh, sorry, "cranial prosthesis") was first. I am now a platinum blonde (with just the right amount of darker roots) in a very military-appropriate bob. I tried the "California wavy" (way too old for that), the "spiky readhead" (way too scary) and the "soap opera 80's feather" (not slutty enough for that one). Ended up with the boring AR-670-1 compliant bob.s The silver lining here is that the last time I had that hairstyle (naturally) I spent a fortune every few weeks on highlights, trims and fancy products, and 45-minutes every morning with a flat iron. To the extent I ever actually wear this one, its fully paid for and easy!! Woo hooo!
Next was the fake booby fitting. I had an option of being anything from an A to a DD. Seriously. I simply asked for "perky". The first set the lady brought in made both Doug and I get the uncontrollable giggles .... especially when he said "be careful, you'll poke your eye out!!!". There were so many options - soft, firm, lumpy, wide, narrow .... and the funniest - the ones made from little sand-like granules that you can wear while swimming. WHO WEARS A FAKE BOOBIES WHEN SWIMMING?????
Anyhoo, after much laughter, we ended up with a whole bag full of goodies that I'll probably never wear. But hey, insurance paid for it, so I might as well stock up for future "date nights" or something.
The ladies at the shop were freaking awesome. They certainly gauged their interactions by my mood. The wig (uh, sorry, "cranial prosthesis") was first. I am now a platinum blonde (with just the right amount of darker roots) in a very military-appropriate bob. I tried the "California wavy" (way too old for that), the "spiky readhead" (way too scary) and the "soap opera 80's feather" (not slutty enough for that one). Ended up with the boring AR-670-1 compliant bob.s The silver lining here is that the last time I had that hairstyle (naturally) I spent a fortune every few weeks on highlights, trims and fancy products, and 45-minutes every morning with a flat iron. To the extent I ever actually wear this one, its fully paid for and easy!! Woo hooo!
Next was the fake booby fitting. I had an option of being anything from an A to a DD. Seriously. I simply asked for "perky". The first set the lady brought in made both Doug and I get the uncontrollable giggles .... especially when he said "be careful, you'll poke your eye out!!!". There were so many options - soft, firm, lumpy, wide, narrow .... and the funniest - the ones made from little sand-like granules that you can wear while swimming. WHO WEARS A FAKE BOOBIES WHEN SWIMMING?????
Anyhoo, after much laughter, we ended up with a whole bag full of goodies that I'll probably never wear. But hey, insurance paid for it, so I might as well stock up for future "date nights" or something.
23 December 2016
Filling in the Gaps
If a tree falls in the woods, does it make a sound? If a mountain-biking JAG doesn't post anything to a blog in almost 6 years, did anything happen?
Yeah, stuff happened. I returned from Afghanistan in January 2012 and we moved to Ft. Huachuca, Arizona. I went for the job (Intelligence Law) but we fell in love with the area. We spent 2+ wonderful years in the high desert mountains of southern Arizona, where we mountain biked and hiked, lost 3 cherished dogs and rescued 2 more, made lifelong friends, and found the one place on earth that could be a suitable substitute for retirement in the New Hampshire mountains. In August 2014, I got out of the Army and we started an epic road trip across the country to return to my civilian litigation job with the Army in Washington DC.
Did we make it to DC??? (Do you know me????) Of course we didn't make it to DC. Somewhere around Kentucky, I started getting nostalgic for the Army. By the time we hit West Virginia, I hatched a plan to get Doug drunk and tell him I wanted to go back in the Army. In Pennsylvania, I called the Army and begged them to take me back. It all worked ...... with the caveat that I had to go somewhere totally shitty for the next 2 years to make up for all the headaches I caused along the way.
So off to Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri it was. Yes, it is true that the only way to pronounce Missouri is MIS-ER-EY. The only saving grace was the job. I became a criminal defense attorney and eventually moved up to run the criminal defense office for Ft. Leonard Wood. For everything we hated about Missouri, the job made up for it - I truly found my "calling" (for real this time!!!). It was a long two years, with long hours and lots of weekends spent in the office, but hell, there wasn't anything else to do in MISERY anyway.
After "doing time" at Ft. Leonard Wood, I was given my pick of assignments for summer of 2016. I picked ..... (drum roll please) ...... returning to Ft. Huachuca! They needed a defense counsel, and we needed to be back to somewhere that wasn't miserable, and where our mountain bikes got dirty again. Taking that job meant that I'll probably never again be promoted in the Army (two tours as a defense counsel is not good for your career; neither is two tours at a postage-stamp sized training installation) - but it was a risk we were willing to take in order to be happy again. Life is just too damned short to be miserable for too long.
We were happy beyond words to be back in Arizona. The mountains were as majestic as we remembered, and the singletrack was so so sweet. The pups were happy to be running off leash and chasing lizards again. When we left Ft. Leonard Wood, we sold everything we owned and moved into the RV full time, so we were living in the RV park right on post, literally AT the trailhead to singletrack up into the mountains. Life could not have been better. We were happy. We were at home. I loved my job. Our mountain bikes were dirty again. Our pups were content. We had everything we ever wanted and were truly at peace.
And then I got diagnosed with breast cancer. November 2016, while at Ft. Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas for work, I went to the doctor, just to get something checked, thinking it was truly nothing. Hell, I had just had a mammogram in April and it was fine. (OK, the truth? I only went to the doctor to shut Doug up, because he wouldn't stop hounding me about getting the weird lumpy thing checked out). In the course of 3 hours, I had several doctors squeezing my boobs, a mammogram, a biopsy, and a lot of pitiful looks from doctors who assured me that it "didn't necessarily" mean it was cancer, but I should probably stick around town until the pathology results came back. On 8 November (yes, election day) I got the call that every woman dreads: Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. So that night, as we sat in bed watching Donald Trump get elected as POTUS, we tried to absorb all the uncertainty and fear of it .... all of it.
And that's why I fired up this blog again. This really is just another little adventure. We'll get through it - maybe not in one piece, but we'll come out the other end at some point. So why not share this little adventure too? Stay tuned.
Yeah, stuff happened. I returned from Afghanistan in January 2012 and we moved to Ft. Huachuca, Arizona. I went for the job (Intelligence Law) but we fell in love with the area. We spent 2+ wonderful years in the high desert mountains of southern Arizona, where we mountain biked and hiked, lost 3 cherished dogs and rescued 2 more, made lifelong friends, and found the one place on earth that could be a suitable substitute for retirement in the New Hampshire mountains. In August 2014, I got out of the Army and we started an epic road trip across the country to return to my civilian litigation job with the Army in Washington DC.
Did we make it to DC??? (Do you know me????) Of course we didn't make it to DC. Somewhere around Kentucky, I started getting nostalgic for the Army. By the time we hit West Virginia, I hatched a plan to get Doug drunk and tell him I wanted to go back in the Army. In Pennsylvania, I called the Army and begged them to take me back. It all worked ...... with the caveat that I had to go somewhere totally shitty for the next 2 years to make up for all the headaches I caused along the way.
So off to Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri it was. Yes, it is true that the only way to pronounce Missouri is MIS-ER-EY. The only saving grace was the job. I became a criminal defense attorney and eventually moved up to run the criminal defense office for Ft. Leonard Wood. For everything we hated about Missouri, the job made up for it - I truly found my "calling" (for real this time!!!). It was a long two years, with long hours and lots of weekends spent in the office, but hell, there wasn't anything else to do in MISERY anyway.
After "doing time" at Ft. Leonard Wood, I was given my pick of assignments for summer of 2016. I picked ..... (drum roll please) ...... returning to Ft. Huachuca! They needed a defense counsel, and we needed to be back to somewhere that wasn't miserable, and where our mountain bikes got dirty again. Taking that job meant that I'll probably never again be promoted in the Army (two tours as a defense counsel is not good for your career; neither is two tours at a postage-stamp sized training installation) - but it was a risk we were willing to take in order to be happy again. Life is just too damned short to be miserable for too long.
We were happy beyond words to be back in Arizona. The mountains were as majestic as we remembered, and the singletrack was so so sweet. The pups were happy to be running off leash and chasing lizards again. When we left Ft. Leonard Wood, we sold everything we owned and moved into the RV full time, so we were living in the RV park right on post, literally AT the trailhead to singletrack up into the mountains. Life could not have been better. We were happy. We were at home. I loved my job. Our mountain bikes were dirty again. Our pups were content. We had everything we ever wanted and were truly at peace.
And then I got diagnosed with breast cancer. November 2016, while at Ft. Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas for work, I went to the doctor, just to get something checked, thinking it was truly nothing. Hell, I had just had a mammogram in April and it was fine. (OK, the truth? I only went to the doctor to shut Doug up, because he wouldn't stop hounding me about getting the weird lumpy thing checked out). In the course of 3 hours, I had several doctors squeezing my boobs, a mammogram, a biopsy, and a lot of pitiful looks from doctors who assured me that it "didn't necessarily" mean it was cancer, but I should probably stick around town until the pathology results came back. On 8 November (yes, election day) I got the call that every woman dreads: Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. So that night, as we sat in bed watching Donald Trump get elected as POTUS, we tried to absorb all the uncertainty and fear of it .... all of it.
And that's why I fired up this blog again. This really is just another little adventure. We'll get through it - maybe not in one piece, but we'll come out the other end at some point. So why not share this little adventure too? Stay tuned.
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