I know, it's been awhile, so here's what's been happening on the always busy medical front...
First and foremost, I'm slowly starting to feel better. Maybe it's purely psychological, but I feel like I'm starting to get some of my energy back. My nail beds are a mess and my feet still swell occasionally, but that's nothing compared to where I've been. The Herceptin I am still getting apparently does not affect my counts, and (knock on wood) I haven't noticed any new side effects. I go for my labwork and check-up with my oncologist this Friday and am curious to see what my counts are. At last check my hemoglobin was at 9 (should be between 12 and 15), but my white blood cells were making a comeback. I'm either high or low in a bunch of other categories as well, but I derive some sort of strange pleasure from tracking my progress each time I get a lab report. At least it's something tangible I can see and understand and follow. Plus all these appointments and tests help reassure me that someone is keeping an eye on things.
Speaking of which, you may recall that I had a MUGA scan in February to provide a baseline heart test. They basically inject you with a radioactive tracer and then watch and measure how your heart performs. One of the potential side effects of Herceptin is that it can weaken the heart muscle affecting its ability to pump blood. For the next year or two I will be monitored periodically to make sure that my heart is still in good shape. At my first scan in February I was 61% (don't ask me what that means but it's normal). When I went 2 weeks ago I was at 64%. Yep, it went up. Not sure how that is possible, but I'll take it. Another item to discuss with my oncologist.
In other medical news, I met with my plastic surgeon to discuss operation #2 of the reconstruction. He told me I needed to wait at least a month after my last chemo in order to get my counts back up, his main concern presumably being the white blood cells and risk of infection. I'll also need a week or two to recover post-surgery. At first I was all about getting it over and done with asap, but when I started thinking about it I realized that was kind of silly. Why not let myself recover over the summer, not to mention actually enjoy my summer and vacation plans, without having to deal with another operation. Even though the implant is supposedly much more comfortable than the expander, it's not like it really bothers me. It will just be nice to have it over with. In case you've forgotten what's going on, I need to swap out the temporary expander with an implant. The plastic surgeon makes it sound easy, but I'm more concerned about mobility issues with my arm afterward. He assures me that it will be nothing like the mastectomy/lymph node dissection where I had to do physio for months just to raise my arm over my head, but I can't help worrying. Anyway, I'm booked for 8am on September 10th. Not too soon, but not all that far away either.
And last but not least, I had my six month mammogram on my left, healthy breast last week. If you've had a mammogram you'll know that it's not the most fun procedure in the world. They basically put your boob in a clear vice, squish the hell out of it and repeat. I swear the glass plate was about 1cm from my port and I kept thinking they were going to crush it into my chest. If that weren't bad enough, when it's all over they make you go into a little room in your gown and wait (presumably so the radiologist can look over the results and send you back in for more imaging if needed). Other patients come into the little room to wait and are called out before me. Okay, now I'm getting a little nervous. Why is it taking so long? Then the technician comes in and leads me to yet another room where I can get changed and wait some more. Did I mention this is the exact same place where I received the bad mammogram news the first time? Waiting, waiting, lalalalala, waiting... Finally Dr. So-and-so comes in, shakes my hand and introduces herself. OMG, here we go... "Just wanted to let you know that your mammogram looks normal," she says. Good grief. Cocktails/sedatives should definitely be offered in the waiting room for all previously diagnosed cancer patients. It's the least they can do.
