No one said it was easy...

There are those days when everything is clear, all of my blessings are apparent, and all of this mess makes sense in some way. There’s purpose to everything and I am SO thankful. I wish they were all that way. The last few haven’t been. In fact, I haven’t been here to update because I thought that I had nothing to say. Actually, I have plenty to say, just nothing good or particularly insightful. But, I started this blog to capture the journey, good and bad. Newsflash: It’s not all a bed of roses and that’s as much of the story as the good parts. The truth is, cancer sucks. It turns your life upside-down and wreaks havoc on every part. Everything you thought you had a grasp on or plan that you made escapes like vapor. Nothing is left untouched. As much as I know that “All things work together for the good…” I’m also tragically human and can’t help losing sight of that some days. I KNOW it, but I also have all of these “feelings”. Stupid feelings…

I spoke with my chemo nurse/researcher today. Just 2 MORE tests before we get started. I didn’t have an EKG before surgery. So I have to do that and also an Echocardiogram. The EKG I have had before. It takes more time to get undressed and put all of the little stickers in place than it does to have the test. I have not had an Echo before. So, I asked specifically what we were looking for. What she told me was that they were going to be looking closely at the left ventricle of my heart to see how effectively it was pumping the blood out. Because if I have the side effect of heart damage from one or possibly two of my drugs, they’ll have a baseline to measure that damage by. It’s the left ventricle that is most likely to be damaged. If that happens, we can determine if the benefit of treatment outweighs the damage it's doing and how to treat my heart for the rest of my life. Even though I knew that, it hit me like a brick. Today it’s REAL.

So the stats come flowing back through my head like a gambling junkie stuck at the tables in Vegas. Playing the numbers with my life. If I did nothing else, no chemo, nothing, I have a 25% chance of recurrence. If I do the 2 chemo drugs only, I take that down to 15%. Chemo + Herceptin brings it down to around 7%. That 8% reduction is where the heart risk begins. Add the test drug, Avastin, and who knows? Maybe it does nothing. Maybe 7% becomes 3-4%. We don’t know. No one does. That’s the point of the clinical trial. They’re all just numbers. As if any of us are really in control…

Besides all of that, we’re back to “Hurry up and wait” mode. I’m counting hours and days like Rainman. I want to get the show on the road, get this over with, and get started. The 25th is a long time away…Then I pass a mirror in the building at work…Getting started also means I have 7 days from that ‘till I have no hair. Shamefully, that DOES matter to me. I AM that shallow. How can I be?? But, I am. I feel extremely guilty about that. So many people are fighting this disease for their lives; many of them are losing the battle. For 40% of breast cancer patients, death IS the outcome. So how can I be worried about my stupid hair??? Yet, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. For today, anyway…

Last night I was taking to my Mom about how uncharacteristic this whole “putting it out there for the world” thing is for me. I still can’t believe I’m blogging all of my most personal things for the world to see. I’m the girl who never had a journal because I was just terrified that after I died, someone would find it, read it, and I’d die of embarrassment all over again. How stupid is that?? Mom reminded me that I learned to roller skate in the house so that no one would see me fall. She also helped me learn to ride a bike one summer only after midnight for the same reason. I do neither of those things well as it turns out. As much time as I’ve spent hiding any weakness, it’s never helped. It has taken me almost 40 years to figure it out, but vulnerability is actually a strength, not a weakness. Some days you do fall and people will see it. And, so what?? Who cares, really? The important thing is that you get back up and that you always have help. That sustains me, my ever present help in time of need. Thank you, Jesus for always meeting me where I am, instead of only where I should be. You've always helped me back up. And I am more than aware that I can’t do it without You.