Seven years ago today, on 12/12/12, my family doctor sat me in her office and uttered those four words I will never forget: “You have breast cancer.” Four words that changed my life forever. I didn’t have the slightest clue exactly what it would look like, or how long it would affect me. I knew it was bad, but once you have the diagnosis you just press on with the treatment. That’s when I started this blog. That’s when all my friends started making a daily commitment to pray for me. That’s when my husband became a caregiver. That’s when my daughter was a freshman in high school and my son was an ROTC cadet in college. That’s when I met all the oncologists, surgeons, specialists, nurses and others on the team who would become my closest allies for the rest of my life.
Seven years have flown by in some ways, and dragged on in other ways. As I look back I am somewhat thankful I didn’t have a clue. In some ways naĂŻvety is like comfort food. The less you know, the less you have to worry. I took it one step at a time, and continue to do so. Here’s what I do know…fighting cancer is a LOT of work. Don’t be naĂŻve in thinking it will be easy. If you know someone who has been diagnosed with this dreadful disease, understand they are dealing with a lot. They may not even know all the ins and outs of the fight. I put together a brief recap of the past seven years. I don’t know, maybe it’s the seven-year itch. I thought it might be helpful to read the context.
12/12/12 – Diagnosed with breast cancer. Staged by the end of the year. Stage 3B Triple Positive Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. Cancer was in the right breast (9 cm) and several lymph notes. Treatment would begin next year, then surgery, followed by more treatment.
2013 –Â Port was surgically installed in January. Six months of chemotherapy (yeah, I lost my hair). Â Radical, modified right mastectomy in July. Followed by thirty-three days of radiation. Finish out the year with infusions of Herceptin. I was deemed “cancer free.” They removed my port at the end of the year.
2014 –Â The Year of Reconstruction (several surgeries over several months to complete). Only God can make a real boob, but my plastic surgeon holds a close second. My hair was growing back. My mom passed away from melanoma while I was recovering from my DIEP Flap. It was a really hard year.
2015 – Back to life. Cancer is behind us, and we can move on. A few follow-up visits and I will be home free. Â I was only inconvenienced by taking a pill every day (Tamoxifen) to decrease chance of reoccurrence, a bit of neuropathy, and some hot flashes, but I felt it was worth it. Life seemed to be getting back to “normal” again.
My oncologist moved to another facility and I was seeing the PA until they filled the slot. By the end of the year, I started noticing some pain under my left ribcage. PA said it must be muscular, since the pain would come and go. She didn’t do any X-rays or other scans at that time. Hmmm…
2016 – We moved houses this year, and while we were in between homes we figured if we were going to live in a hotel while waiting for our house to close, we might as well live in a hotel on the beach…the Gold Coast beach that is! We took a trip to Australia to see our friends and once again enjoy our “second home.” That was a nice reprieve.
I was noticeably sleeping a lot. Of course, we had just been on a long flight overseas, and we did move into a new house. One tends to overlook these things under such circumstances. I also continued to have pain on the left side off and on. In October, I went to my GYN for my annual check-up and she said, “Let’s do an X-Ray,” which discovered a mass on my ribcage. It was pressing against the lung, so they conducted a lung biopsy at MD Anderson a few days before Christmas. I remember the scheduler trying to talk me into waiting “in case something goes wrong,” but I insisted on getting it done. I got a new oncologist, and I really like him. I told him he could never leave as long as I live (which I hope is a very long time).
Diagnosed Stage 4 MBC (Metastatic Breast Cancer) just before Christmas. Future tests showed metastasis in several locations: 7 cm mass on ribs, lesions in spine, skull, liver, lungs. This time, we are here for “treatment,” and it will never be for a “cure.” While the oncologist was reluctant to answer the time question, the PA gave me 6-18 months. But God is not a God of the human calendar!
2017 –Â Port was surgically installed so we could start the year with another round of chemotherapy infusions (yes, I lost my hair…again), Herceptin and Perjeta for HER2+ every three weeks for life, as well as a different little daily pill for the hormone receptor (Anastrozole). By the end of the year, or shortly thereafter, all the spots in my bones, liver, and lungs have gone away. My body is stable. We will continue on maintenance biotherapy (infusions of Herceptin and Perjeta) every three weeks to keep it that way.
In addition to the treatment and staging scans, I have CT scans, bone scans, and an echocardiogram every three months. I also have a monthly shot to strengthen my bones (Xgeva). This was later switched to a 15-minute infusion of Zometa, which I only have to do every three months and they can align with my other infusions. They also take blood every time I walk into the building, probably gallons by now. Doctor visits align with all the scans.
Lymphedema seems to be getting worse since starting the new chemo treatment. My right arm is about three times the size of my left arm. I wear a compression sleeve 24/7.
One of the side effects they do not always tell you about is cataracts. Well, I ended up getting cataract surgery in both eyes in July of this year as well. The good news is, I can see 20/20! I just need to wear readers to see up close. New lenses were definitely worth the inconvenience.
2018 – Continue with maintenance meds. Toward the middle of the year, I started feeling dizzy. By December, I was unable to walk a straight line. My body was still stable, but the brain and body are treated independently as it pertains to cancer. MRI of the brain showed two lesions–brain metastasis in the cerebellum–enough to cause dizziness, but small enough to treat with targeted radiation (Gamma Knife). They added a neurosurgeon to my team of experts.
2019 – We rang in the new year with a big ol’ zap to the brain. MRI guided radiation (Gamma Knife) took place at the MD Anderson downtown location. There were three little spots; not just two. They zapped all three spots, and we all felt good about the prognosis. We took a picture of me just after they installed the “crown,” but I never showed it to anyone. I looked like Frankenstein.
In addition to all the maintenance medicine, doctor’s visits, and body scans, I added another radiation specialist and MRI of the brain every three months as well. The remainder of the year showed a decrease, then a disappearance of all three lesions. In addition, my body remained stable, so my oncologist started scanning my body every 4-5 months instead of every three. (I still have to get echos every 3 months.)
MD Anderson opened a new building in The Woodlands this year. When it is completely up and running, they will be infusing more patients than the main campus downtown. Yeah, let that one sink in for a few!
And that brings us to today! It is December 12th, 2019, exactly seven years since my first diagnosis. I am much more knowledgeable, much more clued-in, and after all of this, all I can say is “whew!” I recall the various hairstyles, short hair, long hair, no hair. I now have shoulder length hair. Â As I wrote each phrase of this journey I recalled how many hours and weeks it took to accomplish these tasks; it seems so simple as I read it, but it was quite complex. I am so glad that much in the past! Now I can focus on staying healthy and staying stable. I am praising God for giving me the strength to make it through the past seven years.
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I continue to work full-time as a university professor. I teach doctoral learners online, with some travel to meet my learners face-to-face. Providentially, I stepped down from my role as faculty chair (I had 50+ faculty reporting to me from 2012-2016). This happened just three or four months before I was diagnosed with Stage 4 MBC. God knew! Â My faculty schedule is more flexible, and I can work around my medical schedule.
Every quarter I look forward to the end of the term. And now, I am happy to see the end of another year. I enjoy my job, but it’s getting harder and harder to balance the demands of a busy job with my treatment and doctors and scans and etc. Tomorrow is the last day of my university’s academic term, and I will finish grading all of my classes within the next few days. It’s that time of year when I am so thankful to be finished! Then, I can relax and enjoy the holidays and the rest of the year.
Aside, over the past few months my left eye has been red, swollen, and inflamed. I have been to the optometrist multiple times, and he has tried multiple rounds of eye drops to no avail. He is referring me to an eye specialist to rule out metastasis. Â One thing I know is this: when you have MBC, they always want to rule out cancer if there is an ongoing issue. I’ll see him after Christmas, but my prayer warriors are already on it.
2020 – I don’t know what the future holds, but I choose to live each day to the fullest. I do know we have some big plans for the next year. God is starting a new ministry in us, and we know He is not finished with me yet. đ More on that next year!
Ă la prochaine…until next time!
