I am terrified of chemotherapy

 I just posted this on another board here in response to all reading days and days of posts from women complaining about the overwhelming amount of pink paraphernalia out now since October is Breast cancer Awareness month. (I only use a lower case 'c'  for the word cancer because it is so dreadful it does not deserve upper anything). The words are my opinion and written in response to so much griping about the organized walks and runs from various foundations aimed to fight breast cancer and the flurry of companies that say they donate a portion of the proceeds from each sale toward the conquer it.  I, for one, feel blessed to have so many people aware of our plight. So many people care that breast cancer has effected us and many other people they know. So many people want other women to be aware that early detection means a better outcome. And so many people are working toward finding a prevention or cure. So below is what I wrote, to just gently nudge those women who are complaining about too much pink, to stop and think about what it all really means. Pink is just an innocent color that got nabbed for a cause. Our cause. And we are lucky to have so many people care.   ************************************************************************************************

Here's my two cents on the subject of too much pink.

Many of my friends participated in the walk/run to find a cure for breast cancer, in different parts of the country, all wearing my name on their backs. They did it as a way to honor me and to raise money for the 'cause' to find a cure. Others have donated to various foundations in my name and still others are quite proud that they purchase the pink products on the shelves, all trying to make a difference and letting me know that they care. Perhaps all this pink stuff is too much...certainly the football players in pink was dramatic. But the one thing it all does is bring breast cancer into the forefront. Breast cancer awareness month is to get women thinking about mammograms and self exams and how random the disease is. We need a cure...we want a cure...and we want all women to be on alert so that if they do have the misfortune of being diagnosed with cancer, it will be found early. I'm not offended by the Think Pink movement, I just don't want to wear pink, nor be a poster child. But I support those who try to make a difference and get the message out, and raise or donate money for finding an end to this breast cancer nightmare. And if that means being attacked by a pink brigade everywhere I go, so be it.  If you try clicking on this link or cut and paste it into your browser http://www.fox8.com/news/wjw-breast-cancer-vaccine-cure-cleveland-clinic-txt,0,5991875.story  you will find the info on Dr. Vincent Tuohy at the Cleveland Clinic who is in the middle of developing a vaccine that could prevent or maybe even cure breast cancer. If buying pink M&Ms or a pink can opener will get money into his laboratory, well, at least this is a cancer people see, hear, feel...and care about. More than 30 years ago when my Mom had breast cancer, it was a taboo subject and something that somehow marked a woman. Back then they thought that cancer was catchy and that if you had it you were damaged goods. This era has embraced breast cancer as something to talk about and fight to overcome. So I say Hooray...GO PINK!  Just don't make me wear it unless you are making a sizable contribution to an organization that is working toward an end to this.

I am so incredibly tired that it's difficult to hold my head up. Today the radiation oncologist says he thinks it's because I've run through the treatment courses so quickly. A month after the dx was the biopsy, followed a month later by the surgery, followed a month after that by the start of chemotherapy. That went on for two months and then less than a month after that was over, I started the radiation tx. I've been poked, prodded, stabbed, sliced, scanned, radiated...and it's just plain tiring. Still have 3 weeks of radiation to go and then Herceptin IV every third week until the end of June 2011. This cancer journey seems never ending. Enough already!

LilyLou...honestly, my biggest fear with the surgery was lymphedema so I really am sympathetic to anyone inflicted.I'm happy for you that the worst of the pain has subsided but sure hope that over time you get total relief.

Good that you are walking on Sunday. I wish I could. But I support the cause in other ways, especially through donations. My biggest gripe is that I keep getting loads of donation requests containing 'stuff' that isn't necessary and a total waste of money. I don't need ribbons or address labels or calenders or any of that to be prompted to donate. All I need is the thought that maybe, just maybe, they will get enough money to fund enough research and eventually find a cure or a vacinne for prevention or a drug like Herceptin that works miracles.

I have completed the 33 radiation tx and am relieved to not be driving that distance everyday. And thrilled to be done with that leg of this long journey. As one other woman on this site said so well...we've been slashed, poisoned and burned.  Now I wonder what's next?

I've learned that chemo is doable but not without lots of issues along the way. And believe it or not, I'm still a bit terrified of what the long-term effects could be. Not just of the chemo, but the radiation, too. If they could tell me that both eradicated cancer from me forever, well, that would have made it all worth it. But all they can say is that it has taken care of this cancer. More could come at anytime, anywhere. Seems unfair. And speaks further of the need to find a cure for all cancers, not just meds to treat this episode. 

I know that many of you are thrilled to see 'Pinktober' done and gone for now, and I do agree that 'save the ta-tas' is going too far, but I feel energized and hopeful when I see all that hoopla (no, I do not wear pink and didn't buy a pink ribboned product just because it had that pink ribbon on it) because it emphasizes to the world that a cure isn't yet here and we need to keep working toward that goal.

My official take on chemo and radiation is....I wasn't brave. I just showed up.

I learned this morning that my best friend from college died this week from a recurrence of breast cancer. She left a husband and four children. And a vast assortment of loving friends.

"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal. Love leaves a memory no one can steal."

With fondest memories of my dear friend, Carolyn, and a sincere wish for a cure.

This has been one heck of a year. In February I began the first of what became many doctor appointments and then scheduled a mammogram.  In March the radiologist who read the mammogram and ordered an ultrasound reported that I had a malignant mass. In April I found my breast surgeon and had the first biopsy to confirm that. Surgery was May 21st and then an infusion port was inserted in mid-June. Full chemotherapy was from June 23rd to August 25th. Daily radiation treatments started on October 21st and ended November 5th. I will need to keep the infusion port at least another 7 months because I'm still receiving a cancer fighting drug every 3 weeks. 

One of my friends recently described to me the 'Slinky' theory of life, comparing life's journey too the actions of the toy coil that was so popular years ago. You move along with life's ups and downs...like a Slinky bouncing gently back and forth.  When a crisis arises, you trudge forward,  pulling with all your might, to get over the hurdle.  And when that immediate crisis has passed, and you can stop to take a breather, the Slinky bounces back and hits you in the butt!

I think that's what this breast cancer diagnosis did to me, but the Slinky tumbled down a flight of stairs before my determined march began. When I digested the volumes of information and got my plan together, I put my head down and moved forward with determination, struggling to endure each treatment and on to the next.  And now that the majority of the poking, prodding and cutting (also refered to on this site as slashing, poisioning and burning) is over, that slinky has just kicked my a$$. 

I'm grateful to have made it through the various phases of surgery, chemotherapy and radiation, and now that I'm on the back side of the treatments, I've had time to reflect. When all I could do before was follow orders and shuffle from one  physician to another,  I have now finally been able to go through the grief states. I'm feeling sad at the loss of who I was before this, frightened of the unknown, angry that it happened, remorseful that maybe I could have done something to prevent it, and hopeful that it won't happen again. 

Besides the medical challenges of 2010, I felt the loss of a long-term long-distance relationship, the life threatening illness of my mother, the death of my only blood-related cousin and that of my best friend from college, a high school classmate, an old boyfriend and a colleague.  Enough already.

I think that the last phase of the Slinky theory is when you've pulled so much that one of the coils gets stretched out of shape, never to return to normal. They say that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.  I survived but I'll never be quite the same and will always be looking over my shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I wasn't brave for any of it. I just showed up.

My sincere thanks to the women I've met on this website, especailly those on the June 2010 Chemotherapy board, who have become so close and dear to me. I could never have made it this far without them.

This is my final post here after finding this incredible website over a year ago and starting this board out of sheer panic.

Yesterday was my final treatment. My chemo began 6/23/10 and ended with Herceptin IV #18 on 6/22/11.  One full year.

My thoughts to anyone reading this who is about to begin or has just begun chemo...find a board or start one for women starting chemo the same month as you are.  There is strength in numbers.

Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate...and always remember YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE BRAVE, YOU JUST HAVE TO SHOW UP.

Wishing all good health and happiness.  Bon

Oh, Claire...Thank you so much for you message. Last year at this time I started this board out of sheer terror. My panic showed here, no where else. I thought I had to have that brave exterior. Everyone helped me early on to know that getting through the tx was not only possible but probable. And I learned that I really didn't have to be brave, I just had to show up. So show up I did...and the feeling of being done is so exciting that only others who've been through this will really comprehend the exhilaration I feel.

I thank you all for being my champions, my heroes, my rock. If I hadn't found you all I would have quit before I began. My gratitude is endless.

ILLINOIS NATIVE...Nice of you to write and glad you found this wonderful website eventually.  I truly credit bc.org with saving my life. Without the women I met here on this thread and those from the board where everyone starting chemo in June of 2010 congregated, I think I may have walked away from the treatments and just given up.

Best of luck to you. I saw that you are only in your 30's and that breaks my heart.  You could be my daughter and I hate the fact that this dastardly disease strikes anyone, but particularly those so young. My prayers and good thoughts for your continued good health will be out there forever.

See, we're both living proof that 'You don't have to be brave. You just have to show up'.

Hugs.  Bon