Thursday, May 8, 2008

Chemo Looms

Well, I haven’t posted in awhile so let me catch everyone up to date.

The healing is going well and I came back to work on Monday. The work I left behind is still there and waiting to be finished. Blah.

The burns have faded (thank goodness) and have been replaced with itchiness! The soreness is slowly getting better and my range of motion is great. I am pretty darn pleased with the scar. It’s long, it’s prominent on my chest – but as far as scars go, it is a fine one. My badge of courage.

I went back to the surgeon on Wednesday. There is still fluid under my incision which is pretty normal – technically it’s called a seroma. He had to drain it again, but less fluid came out than last time; a good sign that it is shrinking.

Later that same day, I had a visit with the medical oncologist, Dr. Hutchins. I think I’ve mentioned before that Dr. Hutchins is chair of the oncology department and oversees the oncology fellowship program. Once again, I feel like I have one of the best doctors available; I like her a lot. She is a polar opposite of my surgeon. Whereas he is brisk and authoritative, she is mild and takes her time.

Many of the decisions in cancer treatment are based on numbers – and they’ve been keeping numbers on breast cancer for many, many years. The bottom line is this – taking chemo improves my survival rate from 84% to 92% - an 8% gain. So heck yeah – I have to do it. She is recommending 6 cycles of chemo – once every three weeks. We will do three rounds of one “cocktail” and three rounds of another. The first three rounds are known as FEC (short hand for the three different drugs involved) and the last three rounds will be a drug called Taxotere. They both come with the fully expected range of side effects – and yes – I will lose my hair. Knew that was coming – right?

If you have a burning desire to know the details about either drug, you can check out the following links:
FEC - http://www.cancerbackup.org.uk/Treatments/Chemotherapy/Combinationregimen/FEC
Taxotere - http://www.cancerbackup.org.uk/Treatments/Chemotherapy/Individualdrugs/Docetaxel


Dr. Hutchins says we can start anytime I’m ready. Gulp. I am not ready. I am scared.

I went home after the appointment and threw myself into total denial. I didn’t look at a calendar; I didn’t google the drugs to learn more about them. No, I turned on the tv and watched horrible reality shows for three hours without moving. I watched “Wife Swap,” “The Super Nanny,” and “The Barbara Walters Special” on her new, tell-all memoir. Serious denial. I just couldn’t bear to think about any of it.

Dr. Hutchins gave me some other information during the appointment that was hard to hear. I asked her how we monitor for a recurrence after all the treatments are done. We can’t realistically scan my body every six months, right? The answer is, other than ongoing mammograms, you simply wait for symptoms to appear. You wait because early detection of metastases isn’t important. Metastases aren’t usually curable – no matter how soon you start treating them. Ouch.

Bring on the chemo.

First, I’d like at least one more week of healing under my belt. Next, I have to look at the calendar. Since everybody responds differently to chemo, it’s hard to decide what day to start. Some people have reactions the night after they are infused. Others don’t feel bad until 48 hours later. How will I react? And do I want to try and spend weekends recovering? Or should I give up time at work so I can be with my family on the weekends? There are too many unknowns and I have already told you about my trouble with decision making.

I am a slow thinker. It’s gonna take me a few days to figure this all out. But I guess it’s safe to say that chemo will begin in a couple of weeks – most likely sometime the week of May 19. The sooner I get started… the sooner we can quit.

I read that Mohammed Ali once said, “I hated every minute of training, but suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.” Seems like a fitting motto for chemo. Think I’ll adopt it.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hey Sherri Jo-

It has been very kind of you to let us all stay apprised of everything. Sounds like it's going well enough with the healing. Everytime I write you I have these nice memories of Steamboat. You all are so generous, and we loved the gifts. Especially that you know the tradition of the penny! We are looking forward to your visit next March! Anyway, I have to take issue with something you said. You are not a poor decision-maker. Taking your time is the best way to make a good decision. Chemo sounds scary and I think you'll hate it. And then it will be a memory. And of course you have to do it! Maybe your hair will grow back blond or curly or something kind of Bette Middler.... It's a crazy adventure-- But chemo might not be as awful as Ben doing donuts in the Kroger's parking lot in the snow...? We love ya-- Mimi

jojo said...

Oh Mimi - the worst part was Jane dropping the pitcher of beer after I had protected it through all those donuts! LOL! (For anyone who is reading - Yes - I was holding an open pitcher of beer - in the car. It was a long, long time ago... We won't even mention what happened to the telephone transformer!)

Anonymous said...

How could I not reply?? How? As I recall, it was a Sunday. We were down at a kind of seafood/cajun place at the bottom of Cantrell hill? is it possible that i got that name right??? And somehow we persueded the bartender when they closed that since we couldn't buy beer, he should give us a pitcher to go! am I right? I'm pretty sure that's how it was. And I do remember you in the back of the station waggon--- with Jane-- trying to hold the beer. How fun and crazy we were! Ooops, I forgot , this is your cancer blog..... hmmm.. must indicate you're bigger than a little tumor. Right? Ats right! xoxo, Mimi