Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Yesterday, I met with my oncologist at the Tri-Cities Cancer Center and I have a general treatment plan to share. I will start with chemotherapy once every two weeks for the first four treatments, followed by twelve weeks of weekly chemotherapy. After this, I will have a double mastectomy and then complete six weeks of radiation. Finally, I will end with reconstruction surgery. My MRI results came back showing no additional masses they want to examine or biopsy in my breasts, which was great news. Upcoming appointments include a CT scan, bone scan, echo on my heart, and finally the installation of my port. The CT and bone scan are to make sure that my cancer has not spread anywhere else. I am anticipating starting chemo mid to end of March, as long as things go to plan.

TO THE LONG VERSION! It be extra long today. I hope you like reading.

My grandmother once told me that I looked best in olive and jewel tones. Whatever she told me was fact, so that piece of advice has guided my whole fashion experience. She was one tough and brilliant woman. Her eyes were these crystal blue intense balls that pierced your soul. If you looked away, they still chased you so there was no point in avoiding eye contact. She also was a pioneer with computers. Her room was FULL of floppy disks. She was always doing “research.” She had these really pointy nails, like claws but scarier. Horror story scary. She definitely sharpened them with the fears of small children. There was this children’s book I loved as a kid that involved Miss Piggy going to the doctor. She would pretend to “give me a shot” by pinching me super hard when Miss Piggy had to be brave during her checkup. I endured it because Miss Piggy got to pick out a reward at the end, so I thought I would get one, too. I never got a toy from the pinches, just some weird indents on my skin. We read that book a shit ton.

I think I just had a breakthrough in this post. This is why I have phobia of needles. This is hilarious. Damn it, grandma!!

She didn’t purposely traumatize me. She was preparing me for something she probably already knew about me, that I was scared of needles and being sick. Look at me now, grandma! This is not the fate she would want for me, but she definitely has prepared me for this moment.

I’ve been to the Tri-Cities Cancer Center several times. The library and the TCCC have partnered together several times on projects, but yesterday I had to go for a different reason and that weighed heavy on me. I was the youngest person in the hematology waiting room rocking my olive button up and rainbow hair and it was hard not to start crying. I am here because I have cancer. I am not here for work anymore. I am here to save my life.

Everything in life is transactional. There are prices to pay for the things we want. In order to save my life, I have to sacrifice other things about myself to do so. I will lose my hair. I will lose my breasts. I will compromise my ability to have children if I ever want that. I will be in pain. But I will do this all because I want to live. Choosing yourself would seem like an obvious thing to do, but it is still hard. This feels selfish given what is happening in the world. I feel guilty complaining about this. I feel small. I feel privileged to have access to healthcare that can save my life. These ideas compete against one another and I know my therapist would say to make space for all my parts right now. I am trying.

I realize some of these losses are temporary. I will eventually get my hair back. I will receive a new set of breasts. The pain will lessen. But I am not there yet. For now, I mourn the things I cannot control about myself and about the world.

I have an excellent care team. I met with my oncologist and learned more about my treatment plan. I will start with chemotherapy once every two weeks for the first four treatments, followed by twelve weeks of weekly chemotherapy. After this, I will have a double mastectomy and then complete six weeks of radiation. Finally, I will end with reconstruction surgery and will need to be on estrogen hormone blockers for at least five years. This process will take me through late summer, assuming all goes to plan. My chemo will be a cocktail of three drugs, but I forgot to ask what the special mixture is. (I don’t think rum is involved though and that is my kind of cocktail, amirite?!) I will get more info about that soon. My doctor believes I should react well and be a functional human being. I hope to work as much as I can and retain a lot of my normal life without pushing myself too much. I want this for myself, to remain invigorated by my work, my art, the life I have been designing for myself. I think it will be good for my mental health if my body reacts well to chemo.

I also have been presented with an opportunity to participate in a clinical study! I am intrigued by this and will need to take the time to review the study and can share more information on that in another post. This study is focused on immunotherapy. There are some risks I need to weigh if I choose to participate. If I chose to participate, I would be randomly selected to receive a placebo or the immunotherapy and would receive treatment every three weeks throughout my chemo. That I will noodle on for a bit.

Meanwhile, I have approximately three more needle encounters before I receive my port! *shivers* Needle one is a blood draw on Monday. On March 11, I will have a CT scan, a bone scan, and an echo for my heart and will need to be injected with some sort of contrast, so that is needle two. The chemotherapy unfortunately can damage my heart so my doctors want to get a good baseline of what is happening and see how healthy I am. My MRI from this week came up with no other concerning issues in my breasts other than what we already know, so no more biopsy needles for now! Needle three is to put me to sleep for my chemo port. I am assuming these are the only needles left to go. I could be wrong. Needles be like, “I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.” They won’t kill me, but I hope you get the reference.

There is also an injection I will receive to attempt to protect my ovaries. Oh fuck, that might be a fourth needle??! Lol fuck. Earlier this week I hinted at some fertility preservation issues I was having a hard time with. I am still working through those feelings so that can be for another post. For now, it sounds like chemo will not completely destroy my ovaries and fertility preservation is not something my doctor wants me to do because the hormones required to make my eggs retrievable could make my cancer worse. Things are already bad, so time to get to work to get rid of this monstrosity.

Today’s song lyric of the day is brought to you by Green Day because I am an ~emo~ girl in an emo world.

“Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends”

– Wake Me Up When September Ends, Green Day