Don't know what to do with Life...

percy4

I just don't know what to do with Life.  As most of you know, I'm a planner, and I can't plan, now.  I have had DCIS-MI.  The prognosis is not so different from just DCIS; but it is.  More concern about hormone therapy (I think a bigger decision with the micro), possibility of mets (remote, but there), etc.  Rads will be finished in 2 wks (I have decided to be smart and do the boosts, in spite of the possible extra SEs, as I can only do this once).  I'm getting a bit of the fatique now.  I don't know why they say it can last after; what's still going on in the body, then?  Have refused Arimidex, for now.  The SEs don't suit me, and the possible 50% help is 50% off a LOW recurrence chance, after rads, but what if there's one cell in the system?  Will be relying on diet and exercise to not have the inch of belly fat I have now (where post-menopausal estrogen can live) and I think I'm OK with that, but am I right?  Bottom line is this.  I will be "released" to life in two or three weeks, and I just don't know where to put things.  This has been my whole life, for months.  I can't be entirely carefree, but also don't want to live my life as a survivor or possible patient.  Sometimes, I think that living life as though it's your last day is great; other times I feel it's better to live as though you have all the time in the World.  Actually, much the same for somone with just pure DCIS, in that it CAN come back as invasive.  Anyone else feel this way?

faerywings

I am not at your point in being "released to life" yet Percy, but wow, I can relate to so much that you wrote. I am a planner too. I live by my To-Do lists, love to have a schedule that I can keep to. I despise having things all up in the air. Makes me craz-eeeee! 

I also feel the same with Lyme. I am no where near being "released to life" with that although I do hope some day I will be. But to think about not "having" Lyme (although its more of a remission type deal as well), that kind of flips me out too. Its like,after so many years of meds and drs appts, I think I will feel a bit adrift. If that makes sense.

I am sorry that I am of no help -- but I am good at blabbering. Maybe some of my nonsense makes a bit of sense to you?

Jelson

Warning -  you are in a very intensive phase right now - radiation every day ie cancer in your face every day and then SUDDENLY it ends and you can feel adrift, like you are not doing anything to fight your cancer!!! - shouldn't you be doing something??? It is good that you are thinking about it now - because otherwise - it can be a shock.

 All the good things you are planning to do re exercise, eating better, losing that tummy fat - are not just about preventing a cancer recurrence, they are about feeling good, being healthy and looking good. I came to realize that f-cancer, my family history is more about heart disease!! I could obsess about cancer returning and die of a heart attack - but the prevention for both is the same - so I focus on health and happiness. that is what works for me. 

TB90

I get all the sentiments you expressed.  On one hand, we have the only breast cancer that is at times described as curable.  So we are initially relieved and even strangely elated.  But slowly reality sets in, along with a few curve balls like micro-invasion, small positive margin, etc.  One moment I feel like the luckiest and healthiest person in the Cancer Centre receiving radiation and the next moment I feel scared to death as I do have breast cancer that could return and kill me.  I have, like Jelson, focused on the things I can control like my diet, weight, exercise, etc. I have even allowed myself to indulge in a few glasses of wine (my love) each week as the benefit to our heart may benefit us more than the risk to bc recurrence.  I have lost 25 lbs., three tummy inches, and feel better than I have in 14 years.  THEN I drive off to receive radiation that I am so fearful of harming me.  It is a new world of confusion, %'s and risks.  I guess all we can do is reduce our risks the best we can, accept the risks of our treatments and hope, hope, hope.  This may have become our new normal.