The Beginning of a Long Journey

I've been neglecting to write about my journey because I usually want to keep my mind off cancer as much as I possibly can. When I stop to really ponder about how I feel and how I'm doing I just want to shut down and not think about it. But I know I need to write about these things not only for therapy for myself, but if anything good is going to come out of this it will be because I share my journey with others.
This last month has been a whirlwind. I got breast cancer 101 slapped in my face. There's so many details about cancer no one would possibly know or care about until they have it. I've read a couple books already and tons of pamphlets on breast cancer. Before I begin explaining what the process has been like let me tell you the little miracles we experienced before we met with the right doctor. We thought we had a facility picked out, but after we sat down at this place and signed papers Don asked me how I felt. I told him I didn't have a good feeling. He had the same feeling too so we got up and walked out before we even met with the doctor. We felt discouraged when we got home and confused about what facility or doctor to pick. I had mulled over some names and suggestions other local breast cancer survivors had gone to. I decided to finally call my best friend from high school, Kasey to tell her the news. She immediately told her father who lo and behold had been in breast cancer research for over 21 years. He called me and talked to me while I took notes over many details of breast cancer and what I should expect. The man was a godsend! He then got in contact with an old colleague of his to tell me the best facility I should go to in the Phoenix area. The same facility was confirmed when I met a new good friend who had just gone through treatments a couple years ago at the same place. Heavenly Father sends people when you need them! I picked a surgeon and called for an appointment.
First, we met with all the doctors. We started with the surgeon who directed us to an oncologist, then our radiologist who walked us through the basics of the treatment I'm going to have. I had a huge headache by the end of the day. My head was concentrating so hard to retain all the information we had just learned. Before I could start treatment I needed to do testing to make sure the cancer hadn't spread to other parts of the body. I had an MRI, a bone scan, CT scan, surgery to get a chemo port, and an MRI led biopsy of a new found mass in the same breast. MRI's are loud and a breast MRI is way more uncomfortable than a regular one. You lie on your stomach with your breasts in a boob mold contraption that lets them hang. You have to position yourself just right so your boobs don't touch the sides of anything. Then you have to have your arms above your head. Oh and hold still while you're in this uncomfortable position for about 30 -40 minutes. Lucky me, I got to do it twice! The second time they did a biopsy. The MRI pictures showed the mass and the radiologist knew where to place the needle from the pictures. So they scanned, stuck the needle in, scanned again, stuck the needle in farther, then more pictures. All while not moving from this fun position. The radiologist joked and said I did really well compared to the 70 year olds he usually sees. My age really surprises doctors.
The bone scan was the easiest and least suffocating. They give you an injection and you leave for a few hours and come back and lay in a scanner. It was kind of fun getting to see my skeleton on a screen. The CT scan I drank a horrible metallic drink 30 minutes prior to the scan. It read "berry" flavored, but it still tasted like metal. They give you an injection that makes you feel like you're peeing your pants and the scan itself is super fast. All my scans came back clean which was an enormous relief. It's determined that I have Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, Stage 3, grade 3. Estrogen and progesterone positive.
The chemo port surgery went well. A port is a little device they put into one of your main arteries so they don't have to poke your vein every time you get chemo treatment. It helps so your veins don't collapse and since it's in your main artery chemo drugs will be transferred to your system quicker. It was my first time going under. The nurse told me he was giving me something in my IV that would make me loopy and forget everything after 2 minutes. I remember them rolling me away thinking, "I wonder when that 2 minutes is gonna kick..." then I was out. I had a slight allergic reaction to the anesthesia so they gave me benadryl which knocked me out for longer than usual. I vaguely remember getting the shakes. My body always shakes going through trauma. My body shook birthing all my babies. It was hard to wake up and luckily our friends let me take a nap at their house for awhile before we headed home. We went home and immediately headed out to Carter's baseball game. I was stiff for a few days, but now I don't even notice it.
I started chemo June 19th. Doctors say the first chemo round sets the tone for how the rest of your treatments will go. I was so nervous, but luckily it wasn't as horrible as I thought it was going to be. I take steroid pills, Claritin, Dramamine, and other drugs to ease the side effects of chemo. I'm a pill popping queen! The treatment is like an IV of essentially poison going through your body. It doesn't feel like anything initially. I'm getting the A/C/T of chemo. The first four rounds are of the A/C drugs then the last four rounds will be of just Taxol. One of the drugs I'm getting is called the "red devil." It makes me pee red for a few days. I have to flush the toilet twice every time I use the restroom because my urine is toxic. After I'm done getting treatment for a few hours they place a little injector on my stomach called Neulasta. It ups your white blood cell counts by helping your body produce bone marrow which is as painful as it sounds. I stabs me in the stomach which feels like a rubber band snap and administers the medicine 24 hours later then I can take the gadget off and throw it away. Up until these gadgets were invented just recently, you would have to come in the office the day after chemo and get an injection. I'm so glad I don't have to do that especially since we live out of town. The actual chemo isn't what makes me so miserable the week of treatment. It's the Neulasta. Don't get me wrong, there is no tired like chemo tired and it does make me nauseated and dizzy, but that's manageable. The Neulasta knocks me out. It makes my entire body ache. My limbs feel so heavy it hurts to move, to think, or to talk. Every muscle in my body gets sore. I can't read or watch tv, it's too much so I lay in bed for about 2 days. By day 7 I feel normal. My brain seems to be more in a fog after this last treatment and I'm not snapping out of it as quickly as I did the last round. It's crazy to think I still have 6 more rounds of this crap, but I try to stay positive. Some days I want off the chemo train, but I keep going because I have a life to live! I am still alive and I will fight through this thing.
My kids keep me going. They're so young they don't understand what's going on and their needs still need to be met. It's a good distraction for me. Carter understands my body is sick and that I'm getting strong medicine that makes me sick. Every time he sees me he asks how I'm feeling and mentions me in every prayer. His thoughtfulness blows me away. I was tucking him in bed one night preparing him he will be gone at his aunt's and grandparents house a lot for awhile because I was going to be gone and sick a lot. He said, "I don't want you to be gone a lot, mom." I burst into tears and replied, "Me neither, buddy, I'd much rather stay with you, but I need to get better." Then he said, "Mom, if you wish on a shooting comet your wish will come true." I thought he was switching the subject, going on a tangent how kids often do. Then he says, "You can wish that you'll get better and you'll be all better!" I squeezed on him extra tight that night. Jaxon is still his little regular self which is both exhausting, but nice because he doesn't even notice that I'm feeling bad. He is always happy to see me and can always make me laugh. I think today is the first day he noticed I'm bald. He asked me where my hair went haha. June is my ray of sunshine right now. I cannot tell you how good it feels to hold my baby and smell her hair in her rocking chair at the end of a long hard day. Her little personality is coming out and she is full of spunk, sass, sweetness and silliness which is everything I dreamed of having in a little girl.
Don is my rock. The day after my first treatment I fell apart and cried. He kind of laughed at me because it had only been one day and gave me encouraging words. Then the next day as he was watching me lye in bed he told me, "Okay. This is hard. I want my wife back." It's hard for him to watch me be so inactive laying in bed all the time. He's picked up the slack in the house and has been encouraging and positive which has been contagious for me. Sometimes I want to punch him for it, but I'm glad he is the way he is.
I cannot express enough how grateful I am for all the people who have reached out to us during this time. Not only have I made an incredible new circle of friends, but I am amazed at how our friends and family have come to our rescue. It has been more than humbling. Not only am I aware of Heavenly Father's love for me, but also for the rest of his children. We really do need to treat everyone we come in contact with kindness and service. I ran to Walmart after I found out I had cancer. No one knew. I looked and acted normal. You never know the people you come in contact with are going through something. This journey has made me so acutely aware of people around me. I want to lighten other people's burdens because other people have lifted mine. I keep saying I am the luckiest cancer patient in the world. There are women going through this who are in abusive relationships, who can't make ends meet, single mothers, etc. I cannot pay back or thank my family and friends enough. They'll never understand how much their help has meant to me. Somehow I hope I'll be able to understand why I'm going through this trial and somehow pay it forward.

About to get my port

Post surgery

Treatment countdown #7

Blurry picture, but she just makes me so happy