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!

Shit Gets Real

It was naive of me to think I could just have this golf ball sized tumor removed and call it a day. The 'chemo' word came as quite a shock to me. It really takes the wind out of your sails. And I get it, it's ridiculously superficial, but all I can think about is MY HAIR. I love my hair. And up until this point, I think I was handling the meeting with the surgeon pretty well. Even the embarrassing moments. Like the MRI of my breasts hanging down that clearly shows my left side is larger then the right, being inspected by the surgeon, the resident, my boyfriend, his mother and my mother. Like an art show of my messed up ta-ta's. But everything else seemed like a walk in the park until now. But I can only deal with one thing at a time and the surgery is scheduled for next week. They explained to me that I would get an injection and then be transported by ambulance...20 yards to the hospital. Apparently I will be some form of radioactive (cue Imagine Dragons song). But I think it's a silly waste of resources. Instead of the ambulance, I asked if I could just borrow a HAZMAT suit so I can go running and screaming into the hospital to freak everyone out. Oddly enough, they told me no. What a disappointment. Then they up an appointment for me with reproductive endocrinology...wtf. Look, if I can barely say it, I shouldn't be going. And I definitely never thought I would be seeing a fertility specialist to freeze my eggs at 29...I mean, COME ON. But that's not even the disturbing part. That was walking into a room with a doctor who looks like Newman from Seinfeld who is asking your boyfriend about his sperm. My life is just filled with awkward moments. But now I'm exactly 2 weeks into this journey and I'm already so amazed and thankful for the insane amount of support I've received from friends and family! And I know I'll need it. Hell, I'm going to need to pick out a bad-ass wig...

Milk Machine

Let's be real. I know all days won't be glamorous, but I'm not always expecting the completely ridiculous. Today, I had an MRI of my breasts. They have you lay on your stomach in this massage chair looking bed, with the hole for your face. But then, to make it even more fun, there is a hole for each breast. So they just kind of...dangle. Much like what I imagine a milking machine to look like. But whatever, I had a nice 45 min nap. And by this point, not much bothers me. I've been poked and prodded and felt up so much the last few weeks, I'm starting to feel a little trampy. Like a medical-imaging trollop. These things used to be a prize! Now everyone has seen them! But, atleast they got a tan. Tomorrow I meet with a surgeon. It's not exactly how I expected turning 29 to go, but since when does life EVER turn out the way you plan? You just take life's lemons, throw that shit out, and drink some tequila!