MARCH 2018 starting RADIATION

Felinemum - All my love and prayers. I wish you strength and peace in the coming months during treatment.

kamalokitty (how I'd like to know the origin of that name!!!) - thank you for the kind words - it sounds like you got done with the same # of rads about a week or so before me. I seem to be following the same course as far as the continued darkening of the skin from whole breast, and now the red shadow of burn in the boost area. I can see exactly what area comprised the boost now, and for once know that it encompasses every possible are of where my positive margin could have been. (old, long story)

I'm sorry you're feeling depressed. I think it's normal after the roller coaster of a cancer diagnosis and treatment. My diagnosis also left me wondering about time left, quality of life. I was VERY direct with my surgical oncologist - don't feed me any BS, etc. He works with breast cancer patients of all ages and stages, but never once made me feel hysterical or silly about wondering, while gently reminding me that my current diagnosis, if I had radiation and hormone therapy, had an almost 96% chance of no recurrence. I'll be watchful in the future, but honestly, after the initial fear abated (it comes and goes), I'm mindful in general that I'm going to die some day of some thing - at most I have 20-30 years left and the time to live is NOW.

My SO used a Sloan-Kettering predictor tool for recurrence, which gave scenarios with/without things like radiation, hormone therapy, positive margins, family history, etc. A more scientific approach would be the Oncotype test: http://www.breastcancer.org/symptoms/testing/types...

Hope this helps.

It will be two weeks tomorrow since radiation ended. Over the weekend, my skin started peeling. It's kinda gross but also amazing. The skin's coming off like it really was a sunburn, but its color is between grey and black. The new skin underneath is this beautiful rosy shade that's smooth and healthy looking. The edges of the areas peeling are tender, but it seems to be mostly because the edges of the dead skin catch a little on my shirts. The dead skin's the darkest in the areas that were a dark purple. The worst areas started peeling first. Go Team Aloe & Aquaphor!

Thank you everyone for your kindness and support. My online friends have been so much more understanding and helpful than most family or "IRL" friends. I know they don't want to believe any of this is true, but that doesn't help them and it hurts me. But my point really is, Thank You.

I have a liver biopsy today. Part of the sample will be sent to Foundation One for tumor genetic profiling, which is different than regular genetic testing. I guess some tumors have distinct mutations that may help with treatment. It's a needle biopsy. I was told I'll be sore where the needle pierces a muscle on its way to the liver, but I'll mostly notice it if I bump the entry point or move in a way that affects the muscle. Right now, I'm finishing up my coffee before the no fluids period begins.

Spring has sprung in Michigan. I'm enjoying the sun's reappearance while watching the last pile of snow in a nearby parking lot slowly melt away. My cats have spring fever and are amazing to watch: Racing, leaping, wrestling, chattering through the window at birds and bugs and squirrels.

Happy Spring!

FelineMum - It's so good to hear from you! Please let us know how the liver biopsy procedure went. Do you know when you will have the results? Keeping you in my prayers and thinking about you often. (((Hugs))) Meg

I finally came out publicly with my breast cancer diagnosis - five months out. I wanted to have something meaningful to say, and - more than anything - try and help take the fear out of a diagnosis. As a writer it's typical of me to essay things, and since this forum figures in to my journey it gets a mention and I'm posting it here. *** This was accompanied by my stick figure drawing of radiation tape that looked like hangman. Here goes:

Hangman – my cancer treatment on an envelope. *not to scale...

On day 21 of 21 consecutive visits to Emory's Department of Radiation Oncology, I lay on the table for my last radiation treatment and ugly-cry for the first time since being diagnosed with breast cancer. When it's over we all head out to the lobby for the ceremonial ringing of the bell that signifies someone is done with treatment. I cry again, my team cries, Denise – who has been with me through all of this – cries and takes pictures of us crying. I have been a frightened and bitchy patient. For the past five weeks Tony, Travis and Bridget (along with a rotation of medical students) have literally had my heart and my lungs in their hands as they radiated everything around them to kill any stray cancer cells leftover from two preceding surgeries.

It's taken five months, but I am ready to talk about my breast cancer diagnosis.

First and foremost: I am ok – thanks to a list that starts with a radiologist who noticed a small cluster of 3 microscopic calcifications on my routine annual mammogram back in November. How lucky am I? I really mean that: what if she blinked, sneezed, tweeted or was overworked or bored? I see it all the time in every profession – but thankfully, not this one, not this time. In less than a week after learning of this "suspicious" area, I am subjected to a diagnostic mammogram, which confirms the suspicions and several days later rushes me into a brutal stereotactic biopsy that removes the calcifications and several other core samples of tissue from the surrounding area. Less than a week later I hear the C word: you have breast cancer, caught at the earliest stage. This is only mildly reassuring at first, because cancer is a scary word and I am reeling and grossly unprepared for the decisions I will have to make very quickly with information that is new and foreign to me. In a two-week period of time, I get a crash course in stages and grades of cancer, words and acronyms, and whether my particular type of cancer warrants a mastectomy of both breasts or lumpectomy of one – the former meaning radical surgery and long convalescence; the latter less invasive surgery but the addition of intentionally radiating my body and taking a medication to keep me cancer-free for the next five years. And I have to make this decision immediately because cancer is inside me, eating my breast tissue and leaving a trail of calcifications behind. I would happily have my breasts removed if it gave me a better outcome – but as it turns out, the outcome is the same whichever I choose: the prognosis remains the same.

Neither path is appealing. I don't want cancer, that is my choice. Hahahaha, says my Surgical Oncologist: choose. I have a great SO, Dr.Arciero. The very first time he saw me he said it was ok to keep my housecoat on in the cold examination room – only it wasn't a housecoat, it was a long, fashionable hand-stitched cardigan. Is your first name really Cletus? I answered. He operated on me twice, as it turned out. The non-invasive tumor is larger than first thought. He is patient and professional and deadpan funny in his answers as I ask ill-informed questions about the benefits of radiation and recurrence, and if mastectomy would be a better option after all. I ask over and over. He answers.

When all of this was happening a lot of other things were happening – the heroes of my daily life were identifying themselves. Number 1: Denise Sheriff, who upon learning of my diagnosis said I'm your person. And she has been there for every surgery, the beginning and end of radiation, many days and nights with the calm, patient understanding it took to cancer-speak, most especially when I could not. At home, Rhonda, Lisa and Hope kept me in beautiful flowers and luxury comfort items. The men fed us: neighbor Sara brought husband Zack's lasagna and stacks of sugar cookies; Steve brought homemade chicken pot pie, chili, hambone soup; Don brought beef stew; Walter brought pints and pints of Haagen Dazs ice cream and expired tapioca. At work, Anna kept up my spirits every day and offered to be the scissors on any red tape I encountered. Margi gave me a place in her home the night before the first surgery; Brett drove through snow like a boss to bring me home when snow shut down Atlanta and the first surgery was canceled. The lovely, faraway people who were present in words and cards and conversation – you know who you are and how much I appreciate you.

When breast cancer enters your life, you become aware of how much it affects other people. Three women close to me in my life are undergoing breast cancer treatment at the same time as me. Another old and dear friend lives with a metastatic head cancer that will never be gone, but managed on a daily basis. And I mean uncannily – none of us knew the other had been diagnosed. They can identify themselves if they'd like, but sisterhood and brotherhood, we share fear and hope and life.

And my breastcancer.org community sisters in February surgery and March radiation – we went through this together, first as strangers, and now as women with a common bond who are choosing to continue on the journey through all of our next steps. I offer hand drawings of the magic marker and tape road map of my chest, necessary for radiation. They laugh. We lift each other up.

For all of you who have known about my illness, sent your thoughts and good wishes, sent your prayers around the world – thank you for respecting my privacy until I was ready to talk about this.

Radiation is not the end of the road for me. After Surgical and Radiation Oncology, Medical Oncology is next. I will most likely take a hormone therapy for at least 5 years, if not for life, that will starve any future cancer cells out of existence. Or at least prevent them from growing.

More than anything, these past few months have been a heartfelt lesson of the best that humankind has to offer. I am the grateful recipient of grace and compassion when I most needed it – the silver lining of fear and anger and uncertainty.

As cancers go, I got the best bad news one can get. My cancer was noninvasive, which gives me a head start in living whatever my normal lifespan will be. The message I get from this all is that today should not be squandered. All my life I've worked to build a solid enough foundation to swan dive into my reward: a calm and peaceful life filled with simple beauty. Whether it is two days or two decades, I dive now. Life is for living NOW.

Love and peace. xox

Kaywrite - a phenomenal letter and very much mirrors many of my own feelings on this journey. Good life and happiness to you and to all of us as we learn to live a "post cancer" cautious and yet hopefully meaningful and happy life.

Thanks so much for posting and for sharing all along the way!

This board has been such an inspiration and haven these last several weeks!

I am one week away from my last treatment! 3 more boost and 2 more whole-breast to go!

I am curious if it is typical to do something for the treatment team. There are 3 people I have seen everyday for what will be 7 weeks and I feel like I should do something to express my gratitude for the amazing way they have cared for me during this time. I am at a loss for what to do!

Any ideas?

hello all,

Veeder, I finished almost 2 weeks ago and my breast is still quite pink although not as red as it was. and swollen.I am most red,sore and itchy in the axilla and incision site where the boosts were.. The warmth is slightly less but the breast is still warm to touch.The aereola is dark but skin is flaking off and more pinkish than brown. I still use the same protocol of aloe, no bra ( or a soft camisole) and hydrocortisone cream for the itching.

Opera Mom- As far as thanking the tx team, there were 2 gals I saw almost every day and I wrote them a thank you note expressing my appreciation for their patience, friendliness, cheerful attitude , knowledge etc They were very pleased with it. I also sent a thank you note to the rest of the RO staff as well.

Kaywrite, sounds like you have an awesome support team! That is so great! I have a husband,sister and 2 good friends who have been supportive and there for me.

I think our tx path is similar although I did have IDC but stage 1b and the MO told me my proverbial "cup is almost full" so that has been my mantra when I get anxious about the future .Sure hope he's right ! I'm in the hormone thread Veeder started so I'll see you there!

Hope you all have a great spring weekend . Our weather is supposed to be warm and sunny so I want to forget Cancer for a while and just work out in my yard- plant flowers, tomatoes , enjoy the day.

Hello all,

Kaywrite, First, Congrats on finishing rads! Second, that post was beautiful. You are a fantastic writer and you have come a long way. Thank you for sharing.

Veeder, Hope you and your mom are doing well. Prayers for you both.

Sorry I really haven't been on much as I have been in horrible pain. The skin under my breast and my armpit has broken down badly. I'm doing everything to stay on top of it and my RO has given me everything she can think of to help me. She gave me an extra day off to try to heal I have 2 more treatments to go. This has been the worst part of my whole battle so far.

I finally found the right mixture to help, 4% lidocaine aloe gel mixed with silvadene and calendula. Then I take one ibuprofen and one Tylenol every six hours. I know I'll get through this but it has defiantly been a battle. Sorry, I just needed vent a little.

Hope everyone is doing well and Congrats to anyone who finished rads!

Nancy - If your skin is still itchy and stings, don't forget to try a light dusting of cornstarch or baking soda on top of the creams and ointment. It truly helps.

Hi Nancy,

Vent all you want!! We all can empathize and understand the way others can't.I do hope you heal soon. Are you eating well? Nutrition is so important .

I only have had some mild skin issues which I consider annoying but not painful. Have a good rest of the weekend.

Veeder,- Glad your mom is doing better. Thats one less worry for you. I hope you aren't in too much pain from the tooth extraction.

Cfarnell, -sounds like you and I have a mutual interest.I spent some time today planting flowers and weeding and put in a few tomatoes. 70 degrees and sunny here in Memphis.

Nancy, it looks like we are both due to finish on Tuesday, I am also having lots of skin issues and in quite a bit of pain, I did all the skin care, even set alarms to remind me to apply the aloe throughout the day. Under the arm is horrible, under the breast is also sore but more when I move certain ways. The skin breakdown gets worse by the day, the size of a baseball under the arm, 1/2 inch by 4 inches under the breast and a large area in the center where my nipple used to be. My RO told me that it would be like a mild sunburn, I wish! I wish I could take a couple days off from work but used all my time off for surgery I know it will start getting better soon, but I can totally relate. I amjust tired of the pain. Dawn

Has anyone noticed that the radiated breast is much warmer to touch? Mine has been that way since 2 weeks post op. After a round of antibiotics, it got much less, but after the1st rad.tx, got red again. It is now, like many of you, more dark which I expected, but the warmth is still there .I don't know if this is normal .