I have to shave again?

I can't believe it's been over 8 months since my diagnosis. Time has really flown by. But this is the time in life that you want to fly by. Not your engagement or when your child is born- it's the chemo and radiation and doctors appointments. Radiation was a breeze. It's just more disruptive then anything. Going to the doctor every freaking day gets really freaking old. But there is a terrible side to chemo being over. I have to shave again. Whhhhaaaat. That's unfortunate. But my eyebrows are coming back in which is a nice treat. It's saving me approximately 76 days over the rest of my life not having to draw those bad boys on anymore. The worst part was when I would get stressed and put my hands on my face and pull my hands away from my face and there's EYEBROW left on my fingers. Or it would smear an eyebrow up and I would look like Rachel Dratch's character from Just Go With It and look perplexed for the rest of the day. I won't miss that. But I will miss effortless nair-smooth legs. I lost my eyelashes towards the end of radiation. A good 2 months after my final chemo. It was a surprise but not as traumatic as losing eyebrows. Losing eyebrows makes you look like sick person. And I wasn't sick. But now what? I just pretend I'm a normal person again? My friend told me that after treatment is when some people really struggle. When the anxiety really kicks in. Because you're no longer actively in treatment to kill cancer. And every lump and bump and every pain scares you. I'm hoping since I'm on IV Herceptin until October, that it will help with the transition out of treatment. Well that and I don't really feel like I have the energy to stress that much. Or the desire to spend any additional time in a doctor's office.

The doctors say it will take a while for my energy to return. I have less energy now then I did during chemo. I spent a lot of time on the treadmill during chemo but I just tried some cardio the other day and it felt like death. And I literally could've been lapped by one of those elderly mall-walkers. They also said the Herceptin can cause fatigue but I flat. out. refuse. to accept that something I'll be on for a year can make me this fatigued. That makes me a little stabby. And then there is my arch-enemy. Tamoxifen. Accepting this fate has been my biggest struggle. My oncologist scheduled several appointments with me just to talk about Tamoxifen because he knew I needed some coaxing. I don't like taking any kind of medication, let alone something I have to take for 10 YEARS. What a complete mind-fuck that is. They used to say 2 years. Then it was 5. Now its 10. Especially for someone my age. I get that it's important for survival, but I'm also concerned about my quality of life as my understanding is that I'm not on my way out. I heard it can come with a lot of side effects, but must be, for the most part, pretty damn tolerable considering everyone and their mom is on it. Although I did hear hair thinning is a possibility. And you must know how that could make me crazy. But I don't really want to know much about it. My Onc offered me the drug fact sheet and I didn't want it. I feel like so many people research drugs and their side effects and then they're constantly scanning their body to see if they're experiencing any of those side effects. I think a lot of it is created in the mind. I just don't get down like that. I don't want to know. We just decided I would let the Dr. know if I was having problems and we'd go from there. Although I'm more the type of person that would stop a medication on my own if I was having problems with it. Or even if I wasn't having problems. Sometimes I just don't feel like taking it anymore. Which is probably why my Dr. said he would be checking my refills because he's scared he'll get in the computer one day and find I haven't refilled my Tamoxifen in a year. He's onto me. Although he did say if I forget it for a day...or several it's no big deal. I know what I'm NOT packing for vacation! I just figured if you miss a day, you just take 2 the next day. That's how birth control works, right?

My family threw a big party when I finished radiation. The tough part was over. And it was so overwhelming to see how many people showed up to celebrate with me. Even family flew into town to surprise me for the home stretch of treatment and for the party. I could relish in that time forever. The people I'm surrounded by are so amazing. They've really picked my up these last 8 months. I hope I never have to repay the favor. I don't think I'm strong enough to be on the other side.

My badass uncle is participating in The Pan-Mass Challenge to raise money for life-saving cancer research and treatment at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute through an annual bike-a-thon that crosses the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Please click here to donate to this cause! THE PMC DONATES 100% OF EVERY RIDER-RAISED DOLLAR TO DANA-FARBER CANCER INSTITUTE THROUGH ITS JIMMY FUND.

Happy New Year!

Time has flown by! In a couple weeks, I have my final TCH+p treatment. I've survived 5 already. I feel like I've been so busy these past couple months. Sam graduated college which was so wonderful to see. He's worked so hard these past 5 years and it was great to see him accomplish that. We had a celebratory ugly sweater party for him. It was a blast. I was definitely EXTRA excited about the holidays this year. I was just so happy to be able to spend them with both our families this year. Plus, it gave me something exciting to focus on outside of all the cancer-bullshit and gave me something to look forward to. It was a wonderful holiday season, except my dog eating the Christmas presents...twice...and lightbulbs.

My chemo side-effects are tolerable. I still deal with nausea, heartburn that fucks my world up and shoot-out-my-nose bleeds. The nosebleeds are really fun when they randomly happen at my desk and make my cubicle look like a crime scene in seconds. Each time I get these bleeds, they check my platelets and clotting-abilities and it all checks out ok. But it turns out Perjeta can cause nosebleeds in 10% of patients, so of course I fall into that percentile. I also have ugly marks on my arms and new ones show up each round of chemo on the arm where the IV was. I was hoping they would go away but the Doctor said they won't because the vein under the skin in damaged. It looks like I spend my free time burning myself for fun. Like I really have time for another hobby. Overall, I'm just sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. And I really just want to feel like myself again. It's really the hardest part of the journey. It's a test for your self-esteem and I just can't pass everyday. The steroids and drugs make me feel a balloon and they mess with my skin. I miss being able to do my hair, despite a lifetime of complaining about it. I miss not having to draw on my eyebrows or overcompensate with make-up. I miss just feeling pretty. Or normal. Or feel like people weren't just talking about me when I enter a room. But when all this is over, I'll miss being able to wear sweats in public on a regular basis. No one will tell you it's socially unacceptable when you have cancer.

So far, this journey has taught me a lot. Everyone said, when you're diagnosed, you find out who your 'real' friends are. I honestly thought nothing would change. SO MANY people stepped up for me when I was diagnosed and through surgery. But then it happened. I found out there were different types of people. There are people who are there and stay there. There are people who I've lost touch with in the past, but showed up for me. I am blessed with many of both those types of people. But then there are those who say they'll be there and they're not. The people I would've put money on sticking around, and lost. And those have been very difficult for me. And then there's my favorite type of people. Those who didn't care about me before, even weren't nice to me before, but suddenly care now that I have cancer. They come out of the woodwork to 'be there' for the cancer girl because it looks good and makes them feel good about themselves. And unfortunately, it turns out I know a few of those people as well. But lucky for me, I'm surrounded by too many good people to need the disingenuous. And now I'm blessed with a new friend. One who I can relate so much to because we're going through the same struggles. Fighting the same battles. We can connect over things most people don't really understand. She's wonderful and strong and supportive. She lifts me up when I need it. It's fun to go to dinner with her and just pretend we're normal people. She has a tough surgery coming up and I hope I can be there for her the way she's been there for me and a few months from now we can celebrate getting through this together!

I have my radiation consultation next week and I'm interested to see how that will go. And my first Herceptin-only appointment is scheduled so that's a nice one to look forward to as it gets easier going forward for the remainder of the "year". Again, I just want to thank everyone for all the support I receive. I try to reach out and keep in touch but I'll be honest, chemo-brain is a real thing and I'm lucky if I know what day it is. But I'm SO thankful for everything and to have such an amazing support system. THANK YOU.

Chemo #1 down, 5 to go!

My first chemo was last week and I made it through! My parents and I arrived at 830 with my cold-capping coolers in tow. It was great to get there so early and have my pick of chairs. The nurse suggested the one in the corner because it had some extra space for my coolers. It was so nice to have our own little area. Mom and I immediately started the cold caps because they need to be on 1 hr before the chemo drip starts. The nurses started my IV and the pre-meds that include benadryl to help with any reactions and some ativan to help me from freaking-the-fuck-out. It took a little while to get into a rhythm with the caps, but after a few changes we felt like pro's! It went much more smoothly and quickly. Unless my father was doing the cap changes, then it was more pounding and shoving. The nurse even threated to check his bags for a sledgehammer. We changed the caps every 20 minutes and it seemed that everytime I was just starting to fall asleep, it was time to change the caps. It made for a pretty rough 8 hours. Plus the 3 hours after chemo. In general it was just a long day, and pretty foggy on the memory. But I do remember getting a lot of amazing visitors! I can't imagine that it a fun environment to visit someone, so I'm very appreciative to everyone who came by! The first few days were very cloudy. I could barely hold my head up. I think a good part of that is that anti-nausea meds. They give you several meds to take proactively for the first 3-4 days and I definitely felt better after I stopped those. My stomach hasn't held up very well either. And when I finally broke down and called the doctor today, I got quite the lecture when they found out I've been having these issues for 10 days and just now reporting them. Apparently, they want to treat you for problems instead of letting you suffer. Strange. And the most uncomfortable side effect- acne. Like I'm 15 and on steroids acne. Unlike anything I've ever seen. I thought that it just came with the territory. You know, the chemo is killing all the stuff in my body that would normally prevent this. But the doctor said it's a reaction to Perjeta. Knowing my luck, only 1% of people have this reaction. All I know is, it sucks. I don't want to leave the house. The other fun thing is the random bloody noses I get all throughout the day. Like all over my desk yesterday. I guess it's pretty easy to tell my platelets are low. But at least this week I've been able to go to work and pretend like I'm a normal functioning adult. Who is terrified of going in public and being around sick people. I can just imagine I would take one trip to the grocery store and wind up with Ebola. Just like at lunch last week when I opened my fortune cookie to find no fortune. That's just how shit around here goes. But all in all, I think it's been a good first treatment. Not exactly what I expected chemo to be like. Nothing like what I imagined actually. And I know it gets a little more rough each time so I'm hoping that I can keep holding it together. And I just want to thank all my amazing friends and family for the support!

Frozen Eggs Are Better! But OHS is not....

I've finally been able to crawl out of my hell. These past few weeks have been really tough. Thanks to the help and support from so many people, we were able to freeze my eggs! My onco-fertility doctor is AH-MAZING. She got us started with the process right away when I met her the morning of my second lumpectomy. It was a long grueling process of daily multi-shots and pills. And incredibly, I was able to give myself shots! I never thought I could do this. I've never been good with needles and suddenly, I'm stabbing myself in the stomach several times a day. It made me feel miserable. And get HUGE. Turns out, I'm Fertile Myrtle. I had over 40 eggs at the beginning of the process. And then they alllll started growing! My doctor said your ovaries are usually 3 cm. By the end of the process, I had individual eggs that were bigger then that. Specifically, an egg my mother named Harold. He was the lead egg, the egg my body had chosen as "the one", when these meds forced him to bring the others along with him. So I was basically carrying around a fish bowl of ginormous ovaries and tons of little egg follicles. I had to go in every day for blood draws and vaginal ultra sounds. Literally, my 2 worst fears. Anything close to a pap, and blood draws. Now I'm a freakin' pro. My biggest life accomplishment happened during this process, I was able to sit up during a blood draw. Never in my life have I remained conscious while sitting up during a blood draw, or hell, even talking about a blood draw. It took me 29 years but I'm a grown up now! And by the end of the process, I was even watching the creepy TV that was mounted on the ceiling showing the ultra sound and all my gross little eggs. It's just such a weird process and being violated before 8 am every morning wasn't my favorite. One nurse even asked if I wanted to insert the ultrasound wand myself....ummm....no. This is not a porno. But thanks for the offer. And thanks for making the rest of my appointment super awkward. It was pretty strange for me toting around a cooler with shots and needles in it and mixing up my drugs in parking lots, and my cubicle at work. It was a whole new world for me. And finally, after I was the size of a house and extremely uncomfortable and I'm pretty sure scrambling eggs at every sneeze, my day came! They called and said I would do my 'trigger' shots that night! It's all timed so perfectly. The trigger shots make your body ovulate in 35 hours and they swoop in at the 34th hour and vacuum them all up! (with a dyson my brother told me) The first shot was this huge mamba-jamba that Sam had to stick into my outer-hip/top of butt and into the muscle. It hurt and he had a huge grin on his face the whole time. Which made me very skeptical! But he did it, and then I had to do a different shot an hour later, and then another one 12 hours later. So a day and a half later, we went in for the retrieval! I was so excited and also so excited just to be done with it. Not only because I was so uncomfortable, but it was just one thing I could check off my list. They had me fill out some paperwork, like an emergency contact list for my eggs incase I don't pay storage or I abandon them? That was bizarre. Who do you put down for the emergency contact of eggs? Well of course I started with Sam. Then I asked my brother if I could put him down, he thought it was weird and never really said yes, but I still put him down! (can't wait till he reads this! hahaha) And my mother. I assume if they can't find me, my mother would know where I am. If not, she would hunt me down. Then they asked if I did abandon them, what I want them to do with them, donate them to a couple, donate them to research or dispose of them. Which I assume means flush them down the toilet. Honestly, I would love to donate and help someone have a baby, but I couldn't get over the fact that there could be little Becca's running around and me not know about them? I clearly could never be a promiscuous man. And I just feel like I would be in a grocery store with some shit of a child running amok and terrorizing people, and it would dawn on me. That little bitch looks just like me. And that's just too much for me to handle, to wonder about. So I decided if I abandoned my eggs, they should be used for research. I would hate just to waste all these little things! The procedure itself went well. I woke up to "38 :)" written on my hand by my doctor- that was how many eggs they were able to retrieve, and it actually turned out to be 39!

After the retrieval, my doctor informed my mom that Harold didn't make it :( But I did set her record for most eggs which was previously 37. I really lived up to Fertile Myrtle! They were able to freeze 12 eggs that day, and another 13 matured over night- so I have 25 little eggs frozen! I felt fine afterwards, we went home and I took a nap. But when I woke up, I was immediately uncomfortable. I couldn't breathe when I laid down, barely when I sat up. I had shooting pains when I tried to breathe. It was horrible. Sam was at school so my mom came over and took me to my doctor who was waiting for me. She looked and listened, and said we needed to get to the ER, I have Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome. My doctor said less then 1% of people get this form of OHS. So go figure, that would be me. And she said with all the precautions we took, it was a minuscule chance. Way less then 1%. Although it was pretty funny to scare the shit out of the radiologist at the ER during my CT scan when he saw my GINORMOUS ovaries! But it was a long few days of just feeling the worst that I can ever remember in my life. Literally, my lumpectomy's were a walk in the park compared to this. I never even took so much as a Tylenol after my last one. But this was just a whole different level. My ovaries were 20 cm each. That's almost 8 inches a piece! And I had all this fluid in my pelvis and around my lungs. I guess each follicle leaves behind fluid, and since I had 39, it was just so much fluid. There literally wasn't space in my body to drink or eat or even breathe. And I can't even tell you the pain when you're at this capacity and then start throwing up. It's some serious form of torture. I was just stuck in bed and couldn't move or get up on my own. Then a friend stopped by with some work for me, and Sam answered the door and asked if he wanted to come in and see me. WHAT? I'm literally sprawled out on the bed soaked in my own sweat and gatorade vomit like some disturbing episode of My 600 lb Life. Thankfully, he declined or he would've been running out of the house scratching his eyes out. Surgery was Thursday, and I was supposed to start chemo on Monday. Both my fertility doctor and my oncologist were calling me everyday to check in, and on Sunday, my oncologist said he really thinks we should bump chemo back to Wednesday until I'm doing better. I really hesitated because I had mentally prepared myself for chemo. But he was definitely right, Monday morning I was still in terrible shape. I couldn't breathe still, or even walk. But I was so lucky because my doctors, one is in-network, one is out-of-network, really co-managed my care so well. They started texting each other about me and what we needed to do. So Monday and Tuesday I went in for iv fluids and an ultrasound. They bumped my chemo back again until the next monday. But it's really tough to have to prepare myself for another day. I feel much less prepared now that it is tomorrow, then I felt last week. The other thing that I missed in the OHS-hell, the Race for the Cure. My work had set up a team and I was so bummed to miss it.

I'll be happy when tomorrow is over, when my first chemo is in the books and I'll know much better what to expect in the future. Theres only so much planning and prepping you can do for something like this when you don't really even know what to except. But crossing my fingers that all goes well! And thank you again to everyone who helped us get here and get those 25 little eggs frozen! Although, my mother is now asking for grandchildren out of every egg.....

How do you want your eggs- Fried or fertilized?

I met my oncologist today, and once again I really lucked out. I had this fear of a doctor with no sense of humor. And that is not him. We all really liked him and I'm thankful for that. I found out that chemo will start on the 29th and then it will be over 18 weeks after that! It will be intense as I will be getting 4 different drugs, including a new drug showing great results. It was nice just to have the conversation and get it all out on the table. I was still hoping there was a chance I would get some different cocktail of drugs that would allow me to keep my hair but that just isn't going to happen. I'll likely lose it after my first treatment. But I've heard from a few different people about these ice hats- or just wearing plain ice packs on your head during chemo prevents hair loss. And honestly, I felt like an idiot asking my oncologist about them. But he said he had a patient in Atlanta that wore an ice hat and she kept about 80% of her hair. If you know me, you know I can spare 20% of my hair. He said it is worth a shot and I would be only his second patient ever to try this. But I'm torn. Do I go all in on this ice hat idea in hopes that it works? But then if it doesn't, I feel like I won't be prepared. Or do I embrace these changes, shave this shit, and go get a wig and some hats? Wigs aren't cheap. I can't just go buy one "just in case". But being prepared is literally the only feeling of control I have these days. These days where my body belongs to the doctors. So do I gamble all my chips or just get a jump on it? I have no idea yet and only 2 weeks to decide. And how do I even have time to think about hair when I have to figure out this whole egg-freezing process? It's so time-sensitive but it's also so stressful to find a doctor and figure out the financial side of it. Just so many things I never planned on having to figure out. And my brother, the sweet man that he is, set up a youcaring.com site for me that was making it's way around Facebook before I even knew. I just started receiving texts from people I haven't spoken to in years, and knew something was up. But since I don't have a Facebook account, it took some calls to figure it out. There is no way to describe the feeling being on that site and seeing all the people, some I don't even know, donating so that one day I can have a family. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone that has participated. If I had known that I would ever run into this problem some day, and that it would be so disgustingly expensive, I would've been a lot less careful with birth control! I even asked my brother if he could retrieve them and store them in his kitchen freezer. It's so grossly inappropriate but just my favorite kind of text to sent to him. But it's just unbelievable the support we've received. My sweet friend, Molly, is also donating a portion of the sales from her adorable Etsy shop Jumping and Jelly Bean to the fund. We could never afford to 'harvest the garden' without this help. And even beyond the financial side, I'm receiving so much help to save my sanity when I get overwhelmed. I'm so thankful that my mother is retired, has a roomba vacuum, and can do research and make calls for me. She's contacted organizations for support and resources and called doctors. Same with my amazing BFFF. We went out to dinner the other night and as we're talking she's emailing this fertility doctor while I'm sitting there eating a turkey club. Then he calls her at 7:45 as we're leaving, she tells him my story and he offers his help and contacts. Just the fact that they take the time to do research and make these calls on my behalf when I honestly don't have the energy to. I'm so thankful for the help. Now I have to get myself ready for my next surgery on Friday. They didn't get good margins from the first surgery so we'll try again!

Got my gimp-ass out of the house this weekend for Sam's birthday!

Language set to English:Vicodin

I've put all this pressure on myself to have a "funny" blog. To share the positive spin on things. But as my father reminded me tonight, I just need to share where I'm at. I certainly try to be strong and try to be positive, but the honest truth is, that just wouldn't be my truth. Some days just plain suck. And I've only just started this climb. The lumpectomy was a walk in the park compared to the hell I know I'm facing over the next few months. And I'm scared shitless. The only difference is, some days it gets to me, and some days it doesn't. The one thing that doesn't change is that I know I can't do it without this incredible support system that has assembled itself around me. I wonder how people do it without a supportive posse. Many nurses and doctors were talking about the crew that was gathered in the waiting room during my surgery. And it's these little amazing moments that get me through. Like my first post-op shower, my mother just sitting on the floor outside the bathroom door incase I needed anything. I get it, I'm 29 years old. But I still appreciate that. And honestly, I needed that. And the constant flow of pumpkin spice chai's making their way over in the hands of my best friend. Somehow, life is just always better with your B(fucking)FF sitting on the couch next to you. And the overwhelming amount of support from calls and texts, to flowers and care-packages. People have told me that they didn't know what to do for me or what to say. Some even "googled" in search of answers (which is just the cutest damn thing I've ever heard). And I certainly didn't know the answers. Hell, we were going through this together. It was all new to me too. What can you do for someone with cancer? We were all learning at the same time. But now I know. It's the little reminders just to let them know they're not alone, we're in this fight together. That's all I need. Because it's true. And I didn't really understand this until I was in it. Because this cancer doesn't just effect me. I've seen it on my co-workers faces. I've seen the tears fall down my best friend's face. And the look on my mothers face the other day when she asked me if I was saving a gifted blanket for chemo. Almost like the word "chemo" itself punched her in the stomach. One thing I'm sure she never planned on saying to her daughter. But it's in these moments that I am reminded that I have this amazing team behind me. And my team is going to win.

My Lady Lumps

I now have these little conversations with my breasts as I'm getting ready. "Why are you doing this to me?", "I always took great care of you", "You got 3 bras everytime we went running!". This is now just a typical morning. We're sort of on-the-outs. Yet there is a lot of emotion tied to fact that tomorrow morning, a golfball-sized chunk will be cut out of one of them. I'm not nervous about the surgery, but I'm nervous about what it'll be like afterwards. I'll never look the same again. Will I ever feel the same? And it's hard not to let these feelings overwhelm the big picture- this is to SAVE MY LIFE. And that's a pretty humbling thought to take away the silliness from worrying about a divot or a couple scars. And the amazing part of this journey, is the incredible support I've received from everyone. I feel like this ridiculously spoiled child. And sure, I've done an embarrassing amount of crying these past 3 weeks, but 80% of it has been from being so grateful and moved by all the acts of kindness I've experienced.

One of my care packages from my amazing coworkers! Filled with everything I could need! And I have no words for this. My Brother got this tattoo this week with my initials. I've just never seen anything so sweet.

I check into the hospital in 6 hours- I hope they're not serious when they tell me to get a 'good nights sleep' before surgery!