My Story

You have cancer. This is the first day of the rest of your life.

To sum up my crapness (a word coined by Matthew Z of I'm Too Young For This!) , I was diagnosed with breast cancer on June 2, 2008. A day I can say I will never forget. I'll probably remember that date long after I forget any anniversaries or birthdays I have drilled into my brain.

I was happily living my life as a project assistant and a master's student when I got the news. After I got the news, everything changed. It's hard to explain unless you have been there. So I won't try. Instead, I'll just outline my pathology report so you have an idea of what I was looking forward to.

My Pathology Report (Or cancer lingo)

Tumor size: 1.8 cm. Lymph node: Negative. It means that while the tumor was relatively large, no cancer cells were present in my lymph system and it hasn't metastasized to any other organ. This classifies me as Stage 1.

Grade 3 - Poorly Differentiated Cells: This is a measure of aggressiveness. Mine is the most aggressive.

ER+/PR+: Part of the triple positive. My cancer is estrogen sensitive and progesterone sensitive. My cancer is fueled in part by my hormones.

HER2 Neu+: Another part of the triple positive. Also a measure of the aggressiveness. My cancer has HER2 Neu receptors on the outside of the cells. Initially, this is a bad thing, but we know so much about breast cancer now that this translates into one more way to fight my cancer.

BRCA1 and BRCA2 negative! Whew, this is a biggie. It is the Mercedes of genetic tests. Basically, my cancer is not hereditary. According to my doc, I pretty much got the short end of the cancer stick... a complete fluke.

My Treatment

Initially, hearing all the positive test results seemed like a downer. Really though, the more positive things you have, the more ways they can treat your cancer. For example: There are 5 ways to treat breast cancer... and I can use all 5 ways.

Surgical treatment: This is either a lumpectomy (which I had) or a mastectomy. Removing the tumor with good margins. That means that the tissue around the tumor that they removed shows no presence of mutated cancer cells. My margins were clean, so they got all the cancer cells.

Systematic treatment: Chemotherapy. I am using two drugs: Taxotere and Carboplatin. I get these drugs one time every three weeks for 6 treatments. I have had one and my second treatment is next Thursday. Yuck. I've been pretty lucky I must say. No nausea, but man, for a few days I feel like I have literally had my ass kicked. Only 5 more to go!

Local treatment: Radiation. I will start radiation 5 days a week for 7 weeks as soon as my chemo is done October 30.

Hormone treatment: Since my cancer is partially fueled by hormones, the doctors can suppress my estrogen using Zoladex and Tamoxifen. Yes, temporary menopause sounds like a real treat. lol. I'll start this treatment after my chemo is over. And I will continue it for 3-5 years.

Biological Therapy: This can only be used if the cancer is HER2 Neu+, and mine is positive. Herceptin is an antibody that I get an infusion of every Thursday for the next year. This antibody targets all cells that have HER2 Neu receptors and it attaches to them and takes them out of my body. I have felt no side effects from this. This is a badass medical discovery.

So, this seems like a ton of treatment for stage 1 breast cancer. Old school thinking was that if you got it all surgically, no more treatment was needed. Not any more. They throw everything and the kitchen sink at it in an effort to treat breast cancer aggressively while it is contained in one place. In other words, I am kicking its ass!

Chemo Round 1

7/17/2008 -The morning of my first treatment, Marcella picked me up for breakfast. We ate and made no mention of what was to come. Jenn arrived at my cancer treatment center with Starbucks Green Tea in hand and a tear in her eye. I said, “There is no crying in cancer!” Yeah, I make uncomfortable jokes when I am uncomfortable. She laughed and blamed it on a Carrie Underwood song on the radio.

We checked in at the front desk and were directed to the Infusion Room… oh the infusion room… the one I had toured the previous week in preparation for this day. The one in which I saw an endless row of green dentist chairs filled with people who looked as if they were clinging to life. I blocked out that thought.

Marcella, Jenn and I settled into a chair area in the corner. Even though I was nervous, I was reassured by my girls in my chemo posse. My chemo nurse, Melissa, came by to connect a needle to my port and flush it with saline. An aroma puff of what can only be described as lemon-lime skunk drifted into my mouth cavity. As I got an unpleasant confused look on my face, Melissa said, “Oh you are one of the lucky ones… you can taste it.” Amazing that she was pumping something into my heart, but I could taste it in my mouth. Melissa started my premeds, which included a rather large dose of Benadryl. I began to slur my words, but my anxiety was gone.

Jenn started making conversation about upcoming social events. In particular, a huge 30th birthday party for an old friend. She asked me if I was planning to go, and I replied, “I’m not making plans these days. I’m living it day to day. Get cancer, get a new perspective.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a frail woman who was reading a book nod her head in agreement. Stage 4 cancer… this woman has had stage 4 cancer two times. Now THAT was a dose of perspective. She asked me what kind of cancer I had. When I replied breast cancer, she said, “Oh, you’ll be fine. They know so much about that these days.” And that was that. Reassurance from someone who is living on the edge and trying not to fall off.

As the chemo bags were hung on the IV stand, they were pumped into me one by one. My mom came to keep me company as Jenn and Marcella had to get to class and work. The whole thing took about 5 hours. They were the shortest 5 hours of my life. As I was leaving, a seemingly healthy 40-something man came in and sat a few chairs down from me. Seconds later, his wife was running with a vomit bag. Yuck. I wondered if that was in store for me. All I could do was wait and pray that my body didn’t punish me too harshly for poisoning it. Melissa flushed my port with saline and Heparin and stuck a Snoopy band-aid on my chest.

Round one down, five more to go.