2017 Post-Apocalypse: This Is My Life Now

It hasn't quite been 6 months since my last post but I feel like I've aged 30 years. Around this time last June, I was preparing to begin 6 weeks of daily radiation treatments in the wake of my lumpectomy and sentinel lymph node biopsy.  Radiation was surprisingly easy.  The main side effects are skin changes (redness, itching, swelling, etc.) and fatigue.  Because my rad onc opted to give me a lower dose over a longer period of time, my skin held up surprisingly well.  I noticed a slight pinkness after the first 2 treatments so I was bracing myself for the worst sunburn of my life as treatment progressed, but it kind of leveled off after the halfway point.  It was itchy and uncomfortable but nothing I couldn't tolerate.  I did my best to combat the fatigue by staying as active as possible.  I walked to work every morning, walked from work to the hospital for my treatment at noon, walked back to work after, and then walked back home. Plus I continued my thrice-weekly workout regimen.  I never felt a dip in my energy during the day, although I did notice I was falling asleep an hour or 2 earlier at night.  The treatments usually took about 20 minutes each (as long as the machines were functioning properly, which wasn't always the case) and all I had to do was lie on a table with my arm up in a holder while the rads team positioned the machine around me, then they stepped out of the room and pressed a button.  The machine buzzed for about 20 seconds, rotated around to the other side and did the same thing, and that was it.  There was nothing painful about it at all, save having to lie on a table topless in a room full of strangers.  It's amazing how normal that becomes after a while and how much shame you lose in the process.  (This is my life now!)

My last treatment was August 17, after which I had a happy hour to celebrate.  The following weekend was the annual beach camping trip.  I was under strict instructions not to expose the radiated area to the sun for at least the rest of that year, so I had to be very careful about keeping it covered, but it didn't hinder my ability to enjoy my weekend with my friends. The Monday after my last treatment (August 21), I met with my medical oncologist and we discussed the next phase of my journey: the hormone suppression phase.  For pre-menopausal women with hormone receptor-positive cancer, Tamoxifen is the drug of choice and it's not without its side effects.  The most common of these are hot flashes and mood changes (i.e. depression/anxiety), and the others range from as minor as joint/muscle aches to as serious as blood clots and even uterine cancer.  (Yes, I could actually develop cancer in my effort to prevent...cancer.)  My oncologist assured me, though, that he's treated around 1,000 women with Tamoxifen in his lifetime and has seen blood clots happen in only 2 or 3 (all of whom already had other risk factors) but had yet to see any of his patients develop uterine cancer.  All in all, though, I was more worried about the mood changes.  I'm a pretty happy person in general and didn't like the idea of that being messed with.  Well, I've been on it for nearly 4 months now and I can definitely tell a difference, but it's hard to say whether that's from the Tamoxifen or from outside influences.  (I've been under an inordinate amount of stress since the end of September so I may never know the true culprit.)  The hot flashes are very real and frequent, usually at night.  I've woken up in the middle of the night feeling like my skin is on fire.  Some nights, I'm boiling hot and freezing cold at the exact same time.  It's the most otherwordly sensation ever.  Between the hot flashes, random shooting pains, the increased moodiness, and my hair falling out at twice the rate as before, I feel like some little old crazy lady.  I already can't wait until I can stop taking this stuff.  This is my life now.

Cancer taught me many life lessons.  The most jarring one is that, no matter what stage you were diagnosed or how successful your treatment was, it's always going to play a part in your life.  Right before my diagnosis, I was endeavoring to become a homeowner and had put offers on a couple of different properties that I ultimately lost out on.  But I know that was for the best since I don't think I could've handled having surgery and radiation while worrying about going to closing, then packing and moving.  After active treatment ended and the dust was starting to settle, I figured I would start looking again after the first of the year, once I've had my annual merit raise and year-end bonus.  Unexpectedly, I got a call on November 2 from my boss telling me they were so pleased with my performance, especially in light of everything I'd just gone through while continuing to work full-time, they were giving me my raise 2 months early and it would be effective retroactively as of November 1!  You know how they say timing is everything?  Well, this news opened up the doors for me to resume my house hunt ahead of schedule.  At my realtor's urging, I put an offer on a place that following Monday, November 6.  It was accepted!  After a year and a half of looking, I was finally about to become a homeowner!

However, the Monday after that (November 13), was my 6-month post-op unilateral mammogram.  I went in, as usual, expecting to be out in 30 minutes. As usual, the universe had other plans.  I was barely 6 months out from surgery and 3 months out from radiation so they couldn't possibly find any new abnormalities, right?  Wrong.  The radiologist on duty that day informed me that I had a brand new cluster of microcalcifications on that side, near the same spot as last time.  He was recommending a stereotactic biopsy.  I thought maybe he was kidding at first.  I can't even tell you how much my heart broke hearing this news.  I never wanted to repeat the hell of a stereotactic biopsy, especially so soon after the last one.  And what if it came back positive for cancer again?  How was I going to move forward with buying and moving into my soon-to-be new home while recovering from more surgery and/or going through more radiation??  Those little words he spoke carried with them the potential to derail everything I'd been working towards for the past 18 months.  I was so distraught, I couldn't even see straight.  I met with both my surgeon and med onc the following Wednesday for my periodic follow-up appointments.   Neither of them seemed too concerned about this new abnormality (although that was every physician's stance last time).  In the words of my med onc, these things "tend to happen" after radiation and "more often than not" they're benign.  Again, the same scenario as last time so small comfort.

The biopsy was scheduled for Monday, November 20.  I was somewhat glad about that because Victoria would be in town that week for Thanksgiving and staying with me, so I'd have someone around in case anything were to go wrong.  But I was also not so happy about that because, with my doctor's office being closed for the holiday on Thursday and Friday, I probably wouldn't learn the results until the following Monday, which meant 2 full weeks of stressing and not knowing if I'd be able to move forward with my home purchase.  Remember when I said waiting patiently has never been my forte?  Well, that's probably the one thing in my life that cancer hasn't changed.

If there's anything positive I can say about having to go through another stereotactic biopsy merely 7 months after the first one, it's that it didn't hurt nearly as bad the second time around.  (Nothing like radiation beams to toughen your skin up like leather!)  Also, the results came back much sooner than I was anticipating.  I had the procedure done Monday afternoon.  On Wednesday morning, I got a call from my surgeon's office informing me that everything had come back benign.  It was kind of surreal hearing those words when I was so used to hearing differently, but I'll take it!  Now I could close on my house without the additional stress of a new cancer diagnosis and treatment looming ahead of me!  I spent Black Friday weekend at Burke's beach house in Rehoboth, just like I'd done the weekend after my previous biopsy.  Only this time with much less depressing news.

However, it simply isn't in my nature to not challenge myself or push myself to the limit.  In addition to dealing with this new abnormality, preparing for closing, finding a sublettor to finish out my current lease, traveling out of state for the holidays, then packing and moving, plus my existing workload at my full-time job, I also agreed to perform in a Christmas concert at the Slovenian embassy the day after my closing date.  And not just as a chorister but as one of the featured soloists!  So on top of everything else, I was now tasked with learning music and juggling a rehearsal schedule. So this is what the last couple weeks of my most transformative year to-date will look like: Dress rehearsal (and Kirby's 13th birthday!) today, closing tomorrow followed by a small celebratory happy hour, concert on Saturday, annual Christmas party/gift exchange at Rob and Christina's house on Sunday, begin packing on Monday, move small things on Saturday, fly to Ohio on Sunday, fly back to Virginia on Wednesday, finish moving furniture and big items on Thursday, clean my old place on Friday (including having the carpets professionally cleaned, as per the terms of my lease) and do a final walk-through at some point, then possibly travel somewhere for New Year's weekend Friday or Saturday.  Just these next 4 days are more action-packed than some people's entire months!  At this rate, I won't even be unpacked and settled into my new place until mid-January, if that soon!  I'm hoping to have a housewarming party sometime before my birthday, but who even knows.

As I stated earlier, one thing I've learned this year (and over the past month especially) is that cancer will always play a part in your life.  Whether it's dealing with the long-term side effects of treatment, the fear of recurrence, or the anxiety of what could be lurking below the surface at every yearly screening, you're never completely free from it.  I went in for my 6-month scans thinking the whole ordeal was behind me only to find out differently.  I've realized that you should never talk about cancer in the past tense because it's never in the past.  In a way, being diagnosed is like being reaped for The Hunger Games in the post-apocalyptic world of Panem: There are victors, but there are no real winners.  You may best the other tributes, but you never get off that victory train.  And someday, when you least expect it, you could get pulled right back into that arena to fight all over again. 

Today, on the eve of my becoming a homeowner, I'm feeling both excitement and dread.  After having to move 4 times in 12 1/2 months a few years ago, it still feels too soon to be boxing up my entire life and doing it again.  Once that's behind me, hopefully I can relax a little and enjoy no longer being a renter.  But who knows what 2018 will have in store for me?  It boggles my mind to think about everything that's transpired in just the last 8 months.  I always said I like to keep busy, but this is an awful lot of busy-ness, even for me.  Despite all I have or soon will accomplish, I will never look back on 2017 as having been a "good" year.  Momentous, yes, but the bad and the good carry equal weight, in my opinion.  However, I'm happy to at least be ending it on a high note.  And how many other people can say they beat cancer and bought their first home in the same year?  Not too many, I'd wager.  In the words of John Locke on "Lost": "Don't ever tell me what I can't do!"  Facing challenges and rising above them: this is my life now.