4 - 3 - 2 - 1


Four days to go and counting....and the pieces are all beginning to come together. First and foremost, the final figures have come in from my biopsy - and I am what the call in the medical "biz," a "triple-negative." In people-speak, this means I have a greater chance of cancer recurrence than if I weren't a triple-negative  - and it also means I won't be able to duck out of either chemo or radiation. Oh, joy!

But there IS a caveat to all of this in that they really won't have all the hard evidence until surgery is completed, and pathology can be done on the entire mass and my sentinel lymph nodes. That is what will tell the WHOLE story.

So in the meantime, I've been making a bazillion phone calls to other survivors - and have lined up appointments with various doctors. I'll see the cardiologist on Monday, just for an update and an EKG. (Chemo carries the possibility of causing congestive heart failure.) At least we'll be prepared with a baseline.

I've saved my second-opinion option for the oncologists. One a female doc, and the other a male - both specialists in breast cancer - just to be sure everybody's on the same page. And once the dosages for chemo are agreed-upon, we'll be off to the races, so to speak.

One of my friends who went through the exact same procedure as mine exactly one year ago (with the same doctors) gave me great encouragement. She said she never suffered a flicker of nausea, and despite being very tired and having a "funny" taste in her mouth, things couldn't have gone more smoothly. She and everyone else have predicted that I will lose my hair, but that's no big deal as far as I'm concerned.

I've been shopping on-line for various hats, scarves and hair pieces. I'd really prefer not to go the wig route, because everyone says they're hot and itchy. I've located a company that makes hair pieces that can be affixed to the insides of hats - and I kind of like that idea. Just put on your hat, and you have hair. Voila!

Also on the advice of a friend currently treating for far more serious cancer than I, I've located an acupuncturist, which many people are using as an addition to healing these days. Although I've never used it before, I AM a believer - and so many of my trusted friends absolutely swear by it.

And so it goes...ooh-blah-dee, ooh-blah-dah. I still don't know how I feel. I am trying very hard to be positive and pro-active. I see no point in becoming a huddled mass of terror and fear - and I'm working very hard on staying in the here and now.  I certainly can't roll the calendar backward, and it's absolutely impossible to leap into the future. The hardest part is thinking about anything ELSE. It's amazing how one word - cancer - can absolutely dominate your life, your thinking, your planning.

I've purposely put myself into a self-imposed quarantine for now - at least until I get through surgery. This damnable flu bug is epidemic around here right now, so I am making every effort to stay out of crowds, supermarkets, even church. I wear gloves when I'm out anywhere - and I pull my neck scarf sort of up over my mouth - and I've got little bottles of Purell stashed in every corner of my life.

And I write - purely for therapy. It feels good to get all these thoughts out of my jumbled brain and onto a page. If it helps anyone, I'll be grateful - but I'm really doing this for me.

I've had lovely messages and promises of prayers from so many people - and for now, I'm just letting myself float on this cushion of love and concern. It's a nice feeling. Makes me feel braver than I think I am.

On that note, it's time for bed, perchance to dream, and tomorrow will be another day.

Good-night, all - and may God's angels watch over all of us.