What Doesn't Kill You...

Anyone that's been following this story of mine will know that I've been trying to get back into decent running shape. While I was thrilled to finally set a date for my surgery (March 5th), it also means that I will have to drop out of the Cherry Blossom 10-miler - again. I've been running ten miles on the weekends so I was a little frustrated to not be able to race. So being the crazy person that I am, I found a half marathon in Williamsburg prior to my surgery date, and we all drove 2 1/2 hours south so I could get a race in. Despite all the hills and the fact that I've only been running ten miles, it went really well. It was a gorgeous sunny day, John and the boys came to cheer me on, and it kind of felt like I was giving cancer the bird knowing that a year ago I was starting chemo and now I was running a half marathon. John was laughing at me for putting Kelly Clarkson on my i-pod, but I tell you, it was my Williamsburg theme song! (You're singing it now, aren't you?!)

Graduation

Apologies for my absence -- I don't know where the last two months went. I've had about a million appointments.. I saw my oncologist and breast surgeon for check-ups, and had another mammogram, echo-cardiogram, and genetic test. Everything looked good. My breast surgeon got my oncologist and plastic surgeon talking and they managed to work out a plan to get my expander out - finally! My WBC was low again (2.57) so my oncologist is going to give me Neupogen shots to temporarily boost my counts to a level where the plastic surgeon feels comfortable operating. I have a surgery date set for March 5th, and for seven days leading up to the surgery I will get a shot.

I also had my last treatment on February 19th!!! One year, people! I jokingly asked my chemo nurse if I would get a certificate for graduating and sure enough they all came over to wish me well and give me hugs AND a certificate - haha. I have nothing but good things to say about the chemo nurses at the Fairfax office of Virginia Cancer Specialists - the best!

Good riddance, 2012!

I am seriously so excited that 2012 is finally over. It's almost unbelievable to look back and see all that has happened over the last year. I practically cried putting up the new calendar. Today is my cancerversary - I've survived one year. Some people commemorate the day they found the lump, some choose the day they were officially diagnosed, and others the day they had surgery or finished treatment. One year ago I was sitting in my office listening to the radiologist tell me I have cancer. I'll never forget that phone call. Nothing has been the same since.

I can tell you one thing - cancer is expensive. My total medical charges for 2012 were $341,605.37 and that doesn't include prescriptions. (Our insurance didn't actually pay out that amount, but that was the total billed). I calculate my out-of-pocket expenses to be about $1700 which includes co-pays, prescriptions and my wig. Not terrible, all things considered, but I could have done something way more fun with $1700.

I can also tell you that recovery is way slower than I would like. I have three more Herceptin treatments left in 2013, a part II reconstructive surgery, and a port that will need to come out before I can consider treatment officially over. (Note, I am not including the five years on Tamoxifen in this little countdown or I'll really get depressed). I'm telling myself that my hair is very Anne Hathaway/Les Mis, but obviously it can't grow fast enough, and I'm seriously starting to wonder whether I will ever have full eyebrows and eyelashes ever again.

Despite all this, I feel like the worst is over (hopefully for good) and that this year will see us in a happier place. Onwards and upwards!

Reconstuction Options

I came across this article on Belinda Stronach a while back, and was really surprised by her accounts of reconstruction options in Canada. According to the article, in 2010-11, 24,735 women had mastectomies in Canada. Of those, only 945 women (about 1 in 26) had immediate reconstruction, and only 1719 women had delayed reconstruction (about 1 in 15). I thought reconstruction was a given, but obviously that is not the case everywhere, and I'm thanking my lucky stars again that I live where I do and have access to amazing medical care. Reconstruction seems to be the standard of care in this area, in fact, I was presented with a few different options to consider.  I'd be interested to hear about other people's experiences. Why are those numbers so low?

Stronach talks about having to go to California in order to have nipple sparing surgery, which is what I received and didn't realize it was anything out of the ordinary. Like most people, I had a very basic knowledge of what a mastectomy entailed in my pre-cancer life, and I certainly had no idea that I could have my breast reconstructed to look basically normal. My breast surgeon and plastic surgeon were able to keep my skin and nipple so if it weren't for the huge scar running along the underside of my breast, you wouldn't know I had a mastectomy at all. (Well, I should qualify that, you could definitely tell right now because the expander is ridiculously high and off kilter, but I'm hoping once I swap it for the implant it will look a little more natural)! Next labs are January 7th. Stay tuned.

I Heart Science

A new study was released today that suggests that taking Tamoxifen for ten years instead of five may be beneficial, particularly in younger women. In the study, researchers found that women who took tamoxifen for 10 years lowered their risk of a recurrence by 25 percent and of dying of breast cancer by 29 percent compared to those who took the pills for just five years. I don't see my oncologist again until mid-January, but I'm wondering if she's going to suggest I stay on it for ten. I have mixed feelings about this. I hate the thought of having to take a drug for ten years (I thought five was forever), and enduring the side effects which can be serious in their own right. On the other hand, I have a lot of years ahead of me so anything I can do to reduce the risk of recurrence sounds comforting. It's never that black and white though. I'll be interested to hear what she has to say. I only started Tamoxifen this July, so chances are in five years there will be something new anyway, or better yet, a cure!

The Chair

Just when I start thinking life is back to normal, it's back in "the chair" for me. I won't say it isn't depressing to go into the clinic every three weeks for yet another infusion, but it's not terrible either. I know most of the nurses, and they know me. They stop and say hello or comment on how nice my hair is coming in (haha). John and I get a Starbucks on the way into the building, I get to relax in a big comfy chair, go into work late, and for one whole hour I can actually sit and do absolutely nothing. Well, other than obsessing over my labs that is. I'm starting to wonder whether I'll ever get back into the normal range. Today my WBC moved up to 3.39 from 3.16 six weeks ago. (Recall that I have to get to 4 to finish my surgery). Could it take any longer?! The good news is, only 4 more treatments left!

 

Running, but not pushing...

I am stealing this line from my friend because I think it's bang on re my post-cancer routine: I'm running, but I'm not pushing. (To be honest, this kind of describes my approach to fitness before cancer as well). I'm a listen to the birds kind of jogger. I like to sign myself up for races periodically because it forces me to kick things up a notch. Today I did my first race in exactly a year - the Vienna 10K Turkey Trot - and today I pushed. This was the first year they offered a 10K, and I was pleasantly surprised to have run a 8:52 pace. Here's a pic a friend snapped just as I was about to cross the finish line:

I didn't win a turkey, (I was 10th in my age category) but there's always next year.