Thursday, February 21, 2013

2/21/13

It's been 16 days since I jotted anything down. 16. What a number. Shannon was born on the 16th and she forever changed my life, and let me tell you, in these past 16 days my life changed in no way like it did when she was born. 16 days ago, I would fight this C and I knew I'd live. Today, I can't say the same. An incredible whirlwind of emotions has taken over my life.

15 days ago, I went for my Bone Scan and CT scan. I was feeling sick since the day before. I had a cough for a solid month and while all of the Project Sweet Peas Board of Directors were in to receive the $20,000 check from Chase; my back pain went through the roof because of my cough. It was unbearable. So after all of my scans that morning, Steve made me go to the ER. Apparently having C and having the issues I was having was not good. How did I know they would all be looped together in a matter of hours?

I was admitted, and in my room for only two hours when my Breast Surgeon came in. She told me that she had the results of my scans, and she wished she had better news. They found cancer in my liver, 2 spots on my spine, and in the other breast. I was fighting Stage IV breast cancer. I have been in this place before. I stopped listening, and broke down. I just remember looking at her sobbing and asked if I was going to die. Her response "We are going to try and not let that happen". Not a "Oh my Gosh, no hunny, what an over exaggeration, you will be just fine"; They would "try" to save my life. Thanks, I guess.

I haven't Steve cry like that for years. He sobbed as he made the phone calls and I laid there in a comatose state. I went back to the dark place, my eyes were swollen and hurt from crying, I couldn't sleep, it consumed my every thought. I am dying. I am going to die long before I should. Would I see my kids in 5 years? Chances are I would never see them have kids, and that broke my heart most of all. I would die before my husband, who I always assumed would die before me. Sarah stayed with me overnight because Steve didn't want me to be alone, and she and Danielle did a darn good job to keep me in better spirits.

I stayed in the hospital for a couple more days as they pumped me full of meds for my upset belly and tried to get my cough to go away. They think I may be starting in to asthma, hence my cough with breathing problems. My nurses were awesome, and made me laugh so hard. They will never have any idea of the impact they made on me those days. I had to turn my phone off because it was going crazy with supportive texts and calls, but I couldn't bring myself to talking to much of anyone, I still really can't.

I ended up cutting my hair once I was released because I knew I would be losing it soon anyway, but I wasn't ready for a complete shave yet. I hated it at first (sorry Sarah!!) but it was more because I knew why it was short. I didn't choose willfully to do this. Just like I didn't choose to have a hysterectomy, it was chose for me. And to live, yet again, I had to do more stuff I didn't want to have to do. Another part of my femininity was stripped away from me. I was slowly be torn away from my womanhood- and it would soon get worse.

Danielle came with Steve and me to the oncologist on the 14th and took notes. Thank goodness she did because I got lost in everything he had said. Basically, only 5% of metastatic breast cancer (cancer that spreads) is curable. So, chances are slim that any of this cancer will ever go away. The only hope is to stop it from growing and spreading. Surgery is not in my future. They will do a couple rounds of chemo and targeted drugs for my type of mets and then repeat scans and see where we are. That is it. All we can do is prolong my life as long as we can. I pray that I am that 5% of curable Stage IV mets cancer patients, but, let's face it, the odds have never been in my favor. I ain't no Katniss Everdeen.

The doc wanted me to start chemo ASAP. So I had my first round on Wednesday. I tried hard not to think about it, but it ate at me like nothing I have ever felt before. My first round meant that this was really happening. It was a reality that I had cancer and I was indeed dying. As soon as my nurse started hooking me up on my meds I lost it. I just couldn't stop crying. It was really happening. Really.

It wasn't terrible, I didn't have any bad reactions, but that's probably because God figured to at least give me a "freebie" with it. I am actually a little frightened that maybe it isn't working because it went so well. Yesterday I did good; no bad side effects. The steroid I am on for my bone mets cause servers insomnia, so I just don't get to sleep for a couple days while I do a round. I had some chills like I had the flu but it's just another day I am alive.

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