I'm in Remission, Now What?

MGK007

I was and am very proud of how I handled my diagnosis of stage 2 multifocal ductal carcinoma, with spreading to some of the lymph nodes. As a widowed mother, I took the most aggressive approach. Many women make what I consider the "mistake" of trying to save part of their natural breast tissue or even one of the breasts themselves. I know women who died taking this approach. 

I was not going to take chances: Otherwise healthy (heart, blood pressure, weight, cholesterol, etc.) at 43, the doctors were able to give me "dose dense" chemotherapy, a combination of three of the harshest drugs, over a six month period. I also signed up immediately for the double mastectomy--not only was I going to risk going through this again with the other breast, but for reconstruction purposes, it is easier to match the breast with the malignancy to the one not having one. 

When I was diagnosed, I had been widowed seven years and had two girls. I was not going to leave them orphans. I also had personal issues at the time--literally after being widowed so long, I just dated here and there and ended up torn between two wonderful men who both really loved me. After deciding I had fewer conflicts with one, I chose to ask him to take care of me during this process. My psychiatrist, whom I had been consulting with on this "whom to choose" conflict told me, once I was diagnosed that then was not the time to worry about making that decision. I must focus on my recovery. 

The man I ended up "choosing"--"A" told me it was an honor and something he wanted to do, but I did have to relinquish my relationship with "B." To my credit, A and I had been mainly friends for years and years and had a prior minor sexual relationship, but after I met B, that part of our lives did not exist, though we were affectionate with each other, there was no true intimate contact. 

However, three weeks of not being with B, with whom my relationship was one of those tumultuous ones where the good times were REALLY good, and the bad ones were pretty bad, I missed B so much that I could no longer take being away from him. I got back into contact with him, and we met a couple of times, but I always went back to A, out of a feeling of obligation and also stability perhaps. 

It was a confusing time, and I did allow myself to put myself first for once and just do what I wanted. B had, on our last "rondevouz," told me he was going to move to wherever I was--he lived two hours away--and just be there if I needed him. If I needed to be with him one day and A the next, it was fine. If I never called him again, fine. It was just a cart blanche "whatever you need to get through this," offer. I accepted it and took advantage of it, and loved him all the more for being so unselfish. 

With the confused thinking many women would have being newly diagnosed with cancer, I thought it would be a good idea for B to move into the same apartment complex with me and my youngest daughter, different apartments. My oldest was 20 and away at college, did and does not like B whatsoever, and she and my entire family wanted to be the ones to take care of me. Looking back, I regret the way I handled things, as doing so hurt and confused my kids, family and the two men involved: I would be with B and my eleven year old. Then something would "blow up" between me and B, and I would haul the two of us back to A's place. A saw me through the original diagnosis. B saw me through the double mastectomy. A saw me through the lymph node surgery. Then came the chemo, and it began with A. After my first treatment, I was basically incapacitated for a few days. 

The third night of my first chemo treatment, when it REALLY hits you, I couldn't believe it, but A, unlike his usual, stable self came home, drunker than I'd ever seen him and RAPED me. I fought him off, but was very weak. You do get something called "chemo brain," so my memory isn't clear, but I think he finally gave up. In any event, as soon as I could gather my strength, I took my things and went back to my apartment, where B was next door, and B saw me through the rest of the chemo. 

Mind you, cancer patients aren't always fun to deal with. I was on a cocktail of strong narcotics, steroids, and other drugs. Pissed at having cancer, pissed at losing my breasts, my long, pretty hair, not knowing if I was going to die, I would have rages, and B tolerated them fairly well, but sometimes he would have his too or refuse to tolerate mine. However, one thing I learned was that being with the man I was truly comfortable with, truly in love with, made what was debilitating with A (the chemo), almost a "no brainer" with B. B and I are the kind of lovers who don't see each other for a few days and come running to each other, literally. Some point in there, we both realized that even with his hardcore, less than diplomatic demeanor, and my mainly gentle, yet a bit demanding personality, we just were going to be together. 

He proposed to me a week before my final treatment, with a gorgeous ring and at his elderly mother's wedding, which she had not only approved, but even requested. It was almost an out of body experience. However, B and I had another row on the very night of our engagement, and it has just been a lot of ups and downs since. But we still feel, at least I know I do, that we belong together. We moved into a house, and I spent a year following chemo, setting up what I feel is a lovely home. Our plan was to stay in California two years, and then buy a home wherever we would settle. Well, first of all, the ring has come off many times, on my account, but based on how I felt B treated me--pretty harsh at times. 

I tried (and still do--to B and my family) to explain that the doctors explained it could take up to two years for me to recover from the chemo--that my brain would not be the same at least until then. But I am in remission, have a lot of energy, even during chemo, and once that was known, it seems like he and everyone else in my family just wants to forget the whole thing ever happened. That I am not the same…not yet at least. 

Recently, and after a lot of turmoil--going through cancer as a couple is something that does break up 50% of even the most established partners--B decided he was going to move back to his beloved Las Vegas, and I could stay or go with, but he hated it here, and was going. He did offer a couple of times to stay. I feel I and my daughter have had enough changes and could use another year of stability, but not at the expense of knowing he is miserable here or having to endure his complaints and depressed demeanor because he is not where he wants to be. So, though my family will completely disown me based on this choice to be with B, we are going. I am hoping the move to Las Vegas (a nice suburb of) will give us a new start, and I would love to start a new career in my field of Public Relations or perhaps even modeling for more mature women's lines and products. I am 44 and look wonderful. Why not use it? I never wanted to in the past, but now I think it sounds exciting. 

I do worry that I am being selfish still--moving my child to a new state. Moving her again. Period. We are going through very helpful counseling, and I guess part of the purpose of writing this blog is simply to vent, but also, how do you go from being everyone's focus, to now I am the worst person in the world (according to some family members) for moving, and according to B just "whining" about what the chemo did to me, my mind, my feelings, my career (I was terminated in the midst of chemo). Am I just supposed to be "over it," when I'm really not, though I feel I have a pretty good attitude. And anyone who is anywhere similar to my shoes, how do you deal with any disregard of what you have been and are going through? Finally, does anyone out there have to deal with, when explaining for the umpteenth time that the chemo and all the drugs messed with your head, "You were like that BEFORE cancer?" Any input or stories you have about dealing with loved ones while in remission would be great to hear. Thanks!

Meow13

Well my husband treats me like I am completely better even when I struggle with AI medicine. I had DIEP surgery and he doesn't understand that he hugs me too hard. We've been married over 30 years. I look good just don't feel as good as i use to.