Pavlov's Dogs

I think most everyone has heard of Pavlov and his experiments with dogs: how he conditioned an automatic response in them to a stimulus, like a ringing bell.

Well, last Monday I discovered that I am just like those dogs.  (Not that I'm calling myself a dog, or anything :)  Returning to the infusion center was one of the hardest things I've done.  I knew in my head that I didn't have to get the nasty FEC stuff, only Herceptin.  But my body reacted the same way it has for the last 4 treatments; with fear, anxiety, stomach upset, etc.  I was an emotional wreck!

Somehow, I got through the treatment and gradually calmed down.  The good news is, I felt great the next day.  With FEC, I was pretty much down-and-out for a week and a half, but Herceptin has very few side effects, and I have relatively good energy with no stomach troubles.  Hurray!

Besides getting a treatment on Monday, I met with 3 doctors in preparation for the second half of my cancer treatments.  We saw the reconstruction surgeon, the radiologist, and my regular chemo doctor.  After that, I have a pretty clear picture of how treatments will play out over the next 6 months.

I have surgery coming up in less than 2 weeks now.  After that, I will need to meet with the reconstruction surgeon once a week until radiation starts on November 7th.  I will undergo radiation once a day for 31 days.  In the meantime, I'll continue getting Herceptin every 3 weeks until the end of February.  (Hopefully, I'll get over my Pavlov response soon!)  Then, reconstruction surgery will happen about next April.

Visiting Grandma and Grandpa "G"

I think the radiation may well be the hardest trial I'll face throughout this whole ordeal.  It isn't that the radiation itself is difficult, but since it's every day I'll have to live near the hospital for 6 weeks.  We're looking into renting an apartment.  Being separated from my family like that will be really difficult.  Steve has been right by my side through everything so far (except when he had to undergo his own surgery), so it will be hard to go up to the hospital without him.  Not being able to see my kids each day and take care of them will be equally tough.  Steve has promised they will all come fetch me home, or visit me each weekend, so that will help.  I'm also really grateful that Steve's parents will be home from their mission by then, as we will desperately need their babysitting skills while I'm missing in action. :-)

Huge "shout out" to all our babysitters!

So, with one thing and another, we will soon be keeping the road hot again with weekly trips.  But we do what we have to do to get me well again. 

I got an MRI on Tuesday to see how much of the tumor (if any) is left.  I don't know the results of the test yet.  However, I found a comparison between the test and my experience with cancer in general.

For 20 minutes, I had to lie completely still on my stomach.  I held a "panic button" to signal the technician if anything went really wrong--like I got claustrophobic or something.  At the end of the scan, they injected a contrast into my veins for 9 minutes.  I was paranoid of an allergic reaction after my experience with Taxol (which proved to be an unfounded fear), but the technician was careful to caution me against squeezing the panic button for anything less than a real emergency.  I wasn't supposed to signal them just to ask how much longer I had to endure the injection, for example.  So, I was a good doobie and held still for the entire 20 minutes without squeezing the "panic button."

I relate that to cancer by reminding myself that my job is to figuratively "lie still" and endure everything that comes at me.  It doesn't do much good to ask, "Is it over yet?"  Eventually, it will be, even though right now it seems to be taking such a long time.  Maybe by the summer of 2013 I can do a happy dance and rejoice that cancer is gone and I got through it.

Our extended family is so awesome!  Thanks so much for all your service!