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The Chemo Beast

I kept meaning to post this but chemo brain is real. Out of 16 weeks of chemo I have completes 11 so far. The first half was a chemo affectionately known as "the Red Devil" and it lived up to the name. Now the chemo I'm on is more pain, muscle spasms and fatigue. Five more weeks. Then I can focus on radiation. Five more weeks.  Chemo is pretty shitty. Days get categorized into good or bad and the longer the chemo, the more the scale leans heavily onto bad days. Because of the COVID quarantine, support people aren't allowed in the infusion center, so I currently drive myself to and from the office each time. In addition to that, there are a few fun facts that I've learned in my personal experiences and some of the best advice I've found helpful. In no particular order, here are a few of them: They give you two bags of anti nausea drugs as well as a bag of steroids before they even pump the chemo into you. Every time. They also give you a white blood cell boo
Recent posts

I Should Get a Procedure Punch Card

I had surgery last Friday to have my port put in. other than a terribly apathetic anesthesiologist it went well I think. The port itself is uncomfortable pressure in my chest and I have a bit of a headache as well as some pain when I laugh or cough. Not to mention that I'm already pretty fatigued. Two surgeries in less than three weeks has taken toll on me mentally and physically. I swear every week is filled with cancer related appointments. In the last six weeks I've had: 3 ultrasounds 2 mammograms Biopsy MRI Surgical Oncology appointments Genetic testing Radiation Oncology appointments Medical Oncology appointments Surgery Post Op appointments Echocardiogram More surgery I can't get away. Now the start date for chemotherapy looms less than 72 hours away and I feel unprepared, unfocused and nervous. I think I just have to chalk today up to being a not great day emotionally and start again tomorrow. Hopefully in a better mood and with less of a headache.

My Port Will Be My Friend

Well, I didn't escape the chemo monster. This week I'll have an echocardiogram and then a quick surgery to install a port. Which creeps me out in a big way. The port is a plastic device that gets surgically implanted under the skin and they use an ultrasound to thread a large attached plastic wire directly into a large vein in the neck. The port allows for easier blood draws and direct injection of drugs for the chemotherapy. Chemo drugs can destroy veins, being toxic and all. After the port is installed, chemo can really start any time, so I'm not sure when they'll begin. So the game plan is 16 weeks of chemo, one month off and then 6 weeks of radiation. I'd be lying if I didn't say the idea of chemo scares me. Losing my hair scares me. Being sick scares me. Side effects scare me. Doing treatments alone because they don't allow support people right now scares me. Literally all of it scares me. Thankfully I know my support system is always with me, even i

Worst. Surprise. Ever.

According to breastcancer.org 1 in 8 women will develop breast cancer in their lifetime. So, you're welcome to the seven women for whom I'm saving the trouble of having to go through it. As of right now, I have stage 2-3 metastatic breast cancer. Totally treatable. The purpose of this blog is really just to update people on what's happening since I feel like I'm not doing a stellar job of keeping up with texts and messages. As far as my treatment goes, there are still more questions than answers and I don't have a timeline of when things will start yet. I'll try to follow up this post with another containing more information for anyone with questions. The quarantine has made it exponentially harder to update people efficiently. I'm planning to do a whole post gushing about how amazing my support system has been but I want to give them a quick shout out now. Thank you to everyone who has taken me to appointments, surgery, dropped off medications, food, check