Well, here’s the big news up front: I had my last AC chemo (the red warrior) yesterday. It’s supposed to be one of the most challenging types of chemo and I feel fortunate that, though I’ve had some tough days, it has largely been pretty manageable for me. At the very least, I was expecting much worse. Sean came and sat with me through the treatment again from his car. I love it so much.
After the two weeks of recovery from the red warrior, I start weekly treatments of Taxol for 12 weeks. Most people are able to tolerate it much easier than the AC so I’m hopeful that pattern follows for me too.
I wore one of RBG shirts. She’s my Patron Saint of Cancer Survival. She had beat cancer FOUR TIMES. And some of those have been particularly gnarly cancers. Badass. (And I hope she’s locked away in a very safe and corona-free environment right now.) And of course the “sweatpants” wig. It’s amazing - one of the nurses thought I just hadn’t lost my hair yet. I suppose in a way I haven’t.
Based on the physical exam (which is less precise than an official scan, but a good indicator nonetheless) the tumor in my breast is “significantly smaller” than when we began. I said, “Well, that’s good news!” The doctor replied, “It’s excellent news!” So, here’s to hoping that the tumor in my lymph nodes is following suit. 🤞🏻 That’s the ultimate goal - to reduce the need for a more involved surgery in the lymph nodes.
My blood levels looked much better this time around as well. Almost all of them back in the normal range, which was a huge relief. The girls and I have been back home for about a week and a half now, so this was good validation for that decision too. I’m infinitely grateful for a safe space like my mom’s to be able to retreat to. But after a couple of weeks, the stress of being away from home and Sean got to be too great.
It wasn’t an easy decision - it means that I’m now completely on my own with the girls, which is its own kind of challenge, especially when they’re out of school through the end of the year. But we’re all doing our best to manage through that too. And we have friends, coworkers and family being incredibly generous bringing meals over for us on a regular basis.
Coming home has given us the opportunity to get creative in being able to see Sean. We get to have dinner “together apart” when he’s not working. It looks something like this when the weather is nice and when the weather is too cold, he sits in the garage and we keep the kitchen door open:
The girls have even put on some ballet recitals in our front hallway that Sean can watch from the front door. It’s still not the same. All any of us wants is for Sean to be able to come back home and for us to catch up on ALL THE HUGS. But until that’s possible, we’ll continue to try to be creative.
I figured out just after we got home that, at that point, I had exactly 100 days left until my last chemo treatment. At the time, I wasn’t sure if it was helpful to have a specific timeline to work toward, or whether it was more depressing to think about how far away the finish line might be. Another both/and situation, I suppose. I created a tracker in my beloved journal. And now that I’ve been doing it for a week or so, I’d say it’s ultimately helpful. There is something satisfying about marking every day off. I feel like I’ve earned every damn one of them.
I’ll be honest - I have some dark days, which I’ll probably be ready to talk about soon. I’ve struggled to find the words and understanding to write about it just yet. It is really important to me to not paint the rosy, Instagram-pretty version of things. Because it’s not always like that. I want to share the honest journey. This is a challenge sometimes - I don’t want to be pitied and I don’t want to share the hard stuff in an attempt to garner sympathy. But I want to share it within some context. So, I’m taking the advice that I advocate for at HRuprise - “Speak from your scars, not your wounds.” (When I originally found this quote, it was attributed to Nadia Bolz-Weber who is a complete badass Lutheran minister with major tats and sometimes foul language. Just my kind of woman.) So, anyway, more to come soon.