Hello folks,

I am trying to get better about keeping up with my blogs, but my naps seem to get in the way.

I’m doing okay, hangin’ in there. I am just now beginning the fourth week of six weeks of radiation. So far my skin seems to be holding up okay, from what I can tell as a layman. It’s a little more tanned than it was, but other than that, the skin seems to be holding up okay. I am very liberal with the creams and lotions the doctor gave me.

Compared to chemo, radiation is a breeze, though it does make me very tired. It doesn’t hurt though, I don’t have to get poked, and it is pretty fast. I am usually in and out within a half hour, start to finish. In addition, many of the women there are also breast cancer patients, and many nice acquaintances are being formed in that waiting room. We women in there have appointments every day, all 10 minutes apart. So it is the same group of women in there every single day. It’s nice to chat with others in the same mess I’m in. I am still the winner, however, in the severity of my cancer’s stage. Everyone else is Stage 2 or lower, and here’s me at (gulp) Stage 3. The level of fear amongst all of us is the same though. Everyone in there has a sobering, calm, unspeakable fear. No one is shaking and crying, just accepting and hoping for the best. We all talk quietly amongst ourselves, often in low whispers, about all the “what if’s” we experience, as if somehow should our words be too loud, the fears will come true. And we talk about how this experience has caused drastic changes in the way we all look at things, how this has impacted all of our lives forever.

We also talk about the stories we all hear of breast cancer survivors. And we note that, unless experiencing this disease firsthand, no one really knows what it took or how hard it was for those ladies to become survivors. Until now, for all of us ladies in that waiting room, seeing breast cancer survivors celebrating was wonderful. But now we all have a whole new appreciation for WHY that celebration is so important to them. This has been a difficult and profoundly frightening battle for all of us ladies there in that waiting room. The journey has been long, painful, and so challenging. We are all tired, weak, still in pain, afraid, and feel alone, as we all sit there together with caps covering our bald heads. We all have battered self images and compromised self esteem. Yet, we all look forward to the hopeful thought of joining our brave "predecessors in pink" in the celebration of survival. Of wearing that pink ribbon and giving it the same personal stature and honor as a Purple Heart, because we earned it through a very tough fight. And we all hope and pray that one day, we’ll be strong and healthy again, so that we too, can reach out to the “newbies,” and help them through what so many courageous women who have gone before us have helped us through.

~ ~ ~ ~ SIGH ~ ~ ~ ~

My hair is coming in quite quickly, considering that just a month ago, it was all skin. My hair looks to be mostly white, but darker in back. I may just let it grow all the way back in to the length it was before without coloring it, just to see what it looks like. My eyebrows are almost totally back in, so it’s back to daily tweezing (ugh). And I am getting tired of gluing on false eyelashes (what a pain!), so it’s nice to see that my own lashes are coming in too. My nails are quite another story though. They are very short and very thin, broken and peeling. I had worn acrylics for years and years, and I would start having them done again, but the doctors advise against it. Apparently one way they monitor things is by looking at the nails, so they recommend no acrylics.

I've recently developed a severe ache in my right arm, which my radiation oncologist seems to think may possibly be lymphedema, due to the surgical removal of so many (19) of my lymph nodes on the right side. So I have yet another doctor on my team, a lymphedema specialist, whom I am scheduled to see next week.

I continue to receive many, many cards and notes from well wishers, who are praying for me and letting me know I am in their thoughts. I know I say this a LOT, but honestly, I just have no way of ever expressing what those cards mean to me. I will keep them always and treasure them. They are truly uplifting and encouraging to me. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

So until next time, I will keep all of YOU in MY prayers too. I am so blessed in so many ways, but especially in having so many people cheering me on in this battle. Thank you one and all, and forever.

Love and God’s blessings,

Deb

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Feeling Pretty Down

Hi to all my family and friends,

Seems I am slowing down on my blogs of late. I apologize for that. I have been pretty down lately, feeling alone and scared. I don't know why. I know a positive attitude is key to recovery, and I have tried to be positive and stay upbeat. Now that chemo is behind me -- which was torture for me -- you would think I would be happy to move forward with my treatments and my life. Trust me, I am eccstatic that chemo is over with!

I have now begun radiation treatments. This is my first week. I will have 30 treatments in all, five days a week for six weeks. I have had only three radiation treatments so far, but to date, they are totally painless and not nearly as difficult as chemo was. Another reason I should be happy and positive.

Now more than ever, I increasingly find myself lacking confidence that I'll be okay. Up until now, this whole thing has been absolutely surreal to me, like a nightmare I can't wake up from. Now that the worst is behind me as far as treatments go, I think everything is FINALLY sinking in with me. Oh I always understood what was going on, of course, and the dangers and seriousness of it, but it was pretty abstract to me at the same time. Now however, the fear is really taking over, and I am so afraid I won't survive, at least not for more than 3 or 4 years. I get different stories from different doctors. My oncologist told me that with all my treatments (modified radical mastectomy, chemo and radiation), there was only a 14% chance of the cancer returning. Pretty good numbers. Then, when I moved on to radiation therapy, the radiation oncologist told me that there was a 14% chance of the cancer returning to THE ORIGINALLY AFFECTED AREA, but that because my stage was so high (stage 3), there was a higher chance that the cancer would return elsewhere in my body. Gulp. Then I got on the 'net to try to find a discussion group made up of stage 3, LONG-TERM survivors. I could find none. Further, I read on the internet that there was only a 50% survival rate for stage-3 breast cancer patients.

Soooo ... I don't exactly have the warm fuzzies here. Truth be known, I am scared out of my wits, and quite depressed.

With chemo finished, I would have thought I would have begun to perk up a bit physically, too. While I am no longer nauseous, I am still very, very tired. It takes very little to wipe me out. Even stress seems to wear me out. Yesterday, we had another upset with our insurance company (the second such upset), who is questioning whether they will cover the $130,000 cost of my radiation treatments, and whether I even need the radiation therapy at all. As it turns out, they now assure us they WILL cover it, but the stress it brought on before the approval wiped me out so much that I slept for three hours in the afternoon yesterday, and 11 hours through the night last night. IS THIS DEGREE OF FATIGUE NORMAL WHEN I'VE BEEN FINISHED WITH CHEMO FOR FIVE WEEKS NOW??

A bright spot in my week: I got a new wig. The wig I originally started with, which was not cheap, was one I was never really comfortable wearing. I felt it looked very "wiggy," seemed to be the wrong color, and the style wasn't right. I recently ordered a "cheapie" from one of the TV shopping channels. I was astonished at how much more confident it made me feel the moment I put it on. It is a short style, and I have never had short hair, so that is something I definitely have to get used to. But the quality and color of this more inexpensive wig is very impressive, and though the style is not one I am used to, I feel more confident in it because it looks so much more believable. So there are still good things happening.

Of course, I never EVER take for granted the love and support of family and friends. How I hope I am around for years and years to enjoy all of you for a long, long time, and to forever thank all of you for all of that love and support. This ALWAYS remains a bright spot for me and really keeps me going. Truly it does.

Now that I have bellyached and acted like a cry baby, I will sign off for now. I thank all of you for letting me vent, and indeed for even reading and keeping up with my blogs. There are so many out there so much worse off than I am, and I have so much to be thankful for. But often, it's easy to temporarily lose sight of that when I am so, so scared. "Stage 3." Please give me another chance at life, Lord.

My love and hugs to all of you.

Deb 3333333333