Eleven weeks today, but who’s counting? Eleven weeks until I lose control over my life, and the cancer takes over. Eleven weeks until this dratted disease will remove every feeling of control I may (or may not) have. Eleven weeks until all hell breaks loose.
But at least I now have a faint idea of what the next year will look like – assuming there are no complications. Knowing my body and my medical history, the probability of a straight run is non-existant – but onw can always hope.
My surgery is scheduled for the first week of September. At the moment no-one knows how extensive the operation(s) will be. A new MRI is scheduled for August 7th, and it will (hopefully) show whether I need a partial or full mastectomy. According to the onco, not only have the cancer cells decreased in size but it seems that they have also decreased in number.
Not that it really matters. There are a large number of lobules, lobes and ducts in the breast and as the tumour has been growing between these, the surgeons will remove as much tissue as necessary to make sure they’ve removed every single bit of cancerous cells. I would rather they remove too much than not enough. I have heard horror stories of women who have had three surgeries because the surgeons didn’t remove enough.
After the surgery, I’ll have four rounds of chemotherapy, three weeks between each round. It’s more of a precaution than anything else, and is a requisite part of the study (I won’t be needing any before surgery, since the tamoxifen/zoladex combo has been so effective). As far as I can tell it’s normal to wait 5-6 weeks after surgery before chemo starts, so I should start chemo the second week of October. Pretty much guaranteeing I will be hairless by November, I am going to freeze my tits off with no hair in December…
Radiation is next. Depending on whether they’ll send me straight from chemo (last dose just before Christmas), I should start in the beginning of January. Onco says that I should expect 4-8 weeks of radiation, depending on the success of the surgery, my response to chemo and a whole bunch of other variables. That should bring us up to February or March.
Then there’s rehab. Just as all roads supposedly lead to Rome (although I’m quite certain that more roads lead to Kroer), everyone who’s had cancer says one should go to Montebello. Now, there’s two Montebellos in Norway – one is a district in Oslo with a flimsy reputation, the other is a cancer-specific rehab centre in Lillehammer, Hedmark county, famous for the Olympics and an awesome Norwegian crime series starring Little Steven (the first season was excellent, the second fair enough; let’s just pretend that the last one was never made). That’s normally a 3-week course bringing us to May (possibly April).
In other words, in eleven weeks I will lose all control of my life until next spring. I hope that I can just hide under the covers in between battles this winter.
Oh, and in case it isn’t on your mind yet …
Why are you waiting three months to have the tumour removed? To me this is really risky. I had a breast cancer that was really fast growing and if it had been left three months I would probably have had it in bones, lungs, brain or chest wall. Try another surgeon and demand that it be taken out fast.
Hi Jenny!
Sorry, your comment disappeared 🙂 due to this being a oestrofile tumour and having had regular hormonal blood work done, I knew that this tumour was really new (ie it came in November/December). Also, ultrasound showed that it was a single, round tumour, with no strings and no spread to any lymph nodes. As it was so big, the options were either chemo or antihormonals to make it small enough to be able to safely remove it.
As I was happy to try something that wasn’t going to give me months and months of nausea, I chose to go along with the study – and the tumour reduced drastically in both diameter and density the first week!
It’s also given me a nice summer without chemo side effects. And so far, chemo isn’t all that bad… so we’ll just have to wait and see if I have 4, 6 or 8 rounds of that, then surgery (which will be a lot safer since the tumour is down to half the max diameter and 1/4 of the density it was) and I’ve lost loads of weight (which is good for surgery recovery, too).
I was lucky to get to one of the best breast oncologists in Norway and feel perfectly safe!
And I hope you are well. xx