Time marches on.. and stomps on my head.

Well, it is happening.  I don't know if I thought I would get off easy, that I would be lucky.  It's strange because through all of this I've always felt incredibly blessed and lucky in my life and I continue to feel that way.  I caught the cancer early, it was a stage 1, it was ER/PR + and HR- (the best type of breast cancer to get, you know...) and the tumour was mucinous, which tend not to spread, and the lymph nodes were clear.  So I thought I had the proverbial cancer horseshoe up my ass.

I thought, maybe I wouldn't lose my hair, even though I said out loud "I will definititely lose my hair" to anyone who suggested I may not.  I guess deep down inside, maybe I thought I would be lucky.  Anyway, as I was blow-drying my hair yesterday (day 13.. LUCKY!) after chemo round #1, and I noticed long strands coming out all over my hands.  I tentatively pulled at a few strands, and sure enough.. out they came.

Even though I said, it's only hair, it will grow back, I'll have a nice wig, it was always an abstract idea that has quickly become concrete.

I feel sad and this sucks and it makes it real in way that wasn't before.

My daughter just silently walked over to me and threw her arms around my waist,  which was the exact right thing to do.  She didn't try to make me feel better or "bright side" it away.

I got in the shower and I didn't know whether to scrub it all out to get it over with or to baby it to try to stave off the inevitable a little longer.   I guess the middle path is always the right one, so I'll baby it until my scheduled hair appointment in a week, at which time I will cut it off short.  That way if it goes patchy or wonky up there, I can just plop the wig (whose name is Lindsay.. says the wig maker) on top until I buzz it.  That's the plan.

I just have to let this happen as it will, it's going to anyway.  I guess I'll take a pass on this one and save the luck for the important stuff, like living till 100 after I beat this thing.

A New Show Begins...

I just checked this old blog that I used to write, to help me cope with the tramatic experience of raising twin boys who were a little more "active" and "intense" than I had prepared for.  Suffice to say that raising children did not meet with my expectations of my earlier research: namely, childhood reruns of the Cosby Show.  

Well, we all know where putting our faith in the values held by Bill Cosby has gotten us, so I digress...

I noticed that when the boys began to get a bit easier, I found it more difficult to write, so I stopped.  It has never gotten easy, but after the age of 3 or 4 I either found some good drugs or the boys stopped being quite so impossible.  Well now I find myself in need of a space to write to chronicle a new experience, for myself, so I don't forget the fight I will win or the lessons I will learn along the way.  

I was diagnosed with breast cancer in April 2017.  This came as quite a shock, because I neither had the lifestyle factors (excessive drinking, smoking, obesity etc) or the family history to explain it.  I always thought cancer was something I was immune to, having more of a heart disease type family.  I had a firm sense of control over my life, I did all the right things, and I still got fucking cancer.  

Ugh.

The good news, however is that it was a good type of cancer to get.  That was my doctor's first consolation after she sent me reeling in her office with the diagnosis.  I clung to that word like a life raft for the first 10 seconds.  She said it was a mucinous ductal carcinoma.  At first she said the mucinous part worried her because it was a rare type of cancer.  As soon as I heard "rare" I heard "dead", because there are no large movements to fund research for rare diseases.  Then she told me in was a subtype of ductal cartinoma, which was the most treatable type.  She gave me a bunch of information and I left in a daze, texting BF, Cyn to "come to my house now".  She left her work and came immediately.  I called DH Chris at work (he teaches at a high school) and he came right home.  

I couldn't read anything or do anything.  Chris and Cynthia read stuff for me and gave me the reassuring pieces where they found them.  Apparently mucinous subtype has the best prognosis and is the least likely to spread, which was welcome hope.  Then Chris went on to become more of and expert in horemone receptor status, genetic phenotypes of tumours, stages and grades (without burdoning me with this of course).

I am four months in, and I had to start at the beginning to write about now... but I'll have to save now for later.

Well the upside is, cancer is a crappy hand to be dealt, but it sure cures writers block.