Yet another follow-up appointment with the oncology office today. A good appointment, however, as we were able to get copies of the latest test results. I now have proof in my hot little hands that my tumor markers are really low, and my bone scan shows no sign of metastatic disease or arthritis. We decided to go back to the Tamoxifen, too. I hate Tami, I really do,
but I understand the necessity of hormone therapy and know I have to do
this.
A very wonderful day indeed!
Except...I found myself crying uncontrollably. Like last night at dinner - the tears just poured down my face. And I can't stop, no matter how hard I try. The sadness and exhaustion are overwhelming and undermining and I feel trapped at the bottom of a deep, dark well with no way to climb out.
I mention this to my NP who kindly points out that I look utterly exhausted. She asks if I'm still running; I explain how intense this last semester has been, which has cut into any time for running / yoga / exercise (so no, I'm not running...except in circles, it seems). We talk about everything that has happened in the last year, and she suggests that perhaps I've hit "the wall". "You had so much to keep you occupied and focused when you were in treatment," she says, "As soon as you finish treatment you start the Semester from Hell. And now you're done. You need a chance to recover."
I recognize that I'm depressed. Maybe not quite clinically depressed, or a Major Depressive Episode (hasn't been two months yet), but it's there. Our NP even indicates that some of my pain could be attributed to the physical side effects of depression. Who knows. Who cares?? I just want a nap.
It's hard to be okay with feeling sad when I'm good and healthy and better! It's difficult - nay, impossible - to give myself permission to relax and repair and recover. I should be happy, right? I should be jumping up and down with joy and smiling and running and loving and grateful to be alive!!! So why do I feel as if my soul has deflated and my spirit has flown away?
It's embarrassing to feel this way, to feel so weak and helpless, and so incredibly selfish. I just want to find my happiness again.
Life goes on after cancer, but it's infinitely more complicated and exhausting. Even in the light of positive outcomes, there can be struggle and sadness in the shadows.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
The Gift of Joy
Today, I got the call I had been waiting for over a year.
A couple of months ago I stopped taking my Tamoxifen because of severe side effects. My doctor gave me a month off, during which some of my pain abated. But after a rousing "talking to" by Mr. Doctor (and some Oprah-esque A-Ha moments on my part) I chose to switch to another medication, Aromasin. Similar to Tami but not typically as effective, it also comes with its own cadre of side effects including (most often) joint pain, bone loss, and those ever-pleasant "personal" SEs.
Ugh. Only took two months this time to realize Aromasin wasn't going to work for me. Another visit to Mr. Doctor (who was much nicer this time...perhaps because Ken was with me and, well, it took us all of three seconds to realize Mr. Doctor was more interested in talking with Ken than he was with me...) and another trip to Club Med(ication vacation).
Mr. Doctor's concerns, however, were the continued bone, joint pain, and exhaustion. Rheumatoid arthritis was his first option - "sometimes a result of the taxane chemos," he says. NOW he tells me that. "And we'll run tumor markers, just in case," along with a host of other bloodwork (the first and only time I wished I still had my port). "Of course, your Vitamin D deficiency could be causing the pain," he says. News to my ears. Didn't realize I had been dealing with a Vit D deficiency.
Laurie, my Cancer Conceirge, calls me late last week. "I see you're coming back to visit after Christmas," she says, and I tell her what's been going on. That I had my bloodwork but am still waiting for the test results. So, bless her heart, she does what she does best - pulls my records to give me the results (why can't the doctor ever do this?)
Tumor markers are within normal limits.
RA factors are within normal limits.
Vitamin D is slightly lowered, but I'm on top of that.
The rest of my bloodwork looked perfect.
So - I am assured that means I don't have RA. And while tumor marker tests aren't always perfect, we can assume I don't have a new primary tumor.
Because Laurie is wonderful, she promises to call me the day after my bone scan to give me the results; she doesn't want to me "wait and worry" over Christmas (she is truly a blessing!)
The bone scan was yesterday. Same as the bone scan I had last year: injection of nuclear dye, wait 3 hours for it to course through my body and attach to any cancerous areas in my bones so I light up like a Christmas tree under a scanner. The scan was easy-peasy (I even get to keep my clothes on), and was over before I knew it.
But this time, the tech wouldn't let me see the scan. When I asked if he saw anything concerning he simply said, "The doctor will be in touch with you in 3 to 5 business days." And he escorted me to the door.
And so I panicked. Because the last time I felt that feeling of, "I know something but I can't really tell you, but by not really telling you I am really telling you, but you have to guess, and I can't confirm, but you know what I'm trying to say, right?" was after my biopsy. And we all know what happened after that...
Laurie called this morning, as I wended my way on 94 during rush hour to my internship.
My bone scan is clean. No sign of arthritis, and no sign of bone metastases.
I am now, truly, completely, formally, dating NED. There is no evidence of disease anywhere. No guessing or hoping there's no primary tumor hiding somewhere, no worrying that there's a met spot on my spine or hip or shoulder. Nothing.
So while I celebrated (totally the wrong word, but what else do you call it?) my Cancerversary just weeks ago, I can now happily celebrate (and that's totally the right word here!) my continued relationship with NED.
I couldn't have asked for a better Chrismukah gift. Cancer is still stupid, but life is so very, very good.
A couple of months ago I stopped taking my Tamoxifen because of severe side effects. My doctor gave me a month off, during which some of my pain abated. But after a rousing "talking to" by Mr. Doctor (and some Oprah-esque A-Ha moments on my part) I chose to switch to another medication, Aromasin. Similar to Tami but not typically as effective, it also comes with its own cadre of side effects including (most often) joint pain, bone loss, and those ever-pleasant "personal" SEs.
Ugh. Only took two months this time to realize Aromasin wasn't going to work for me. Another visit to Mr. Doctor (who was much nicer this time...perhaps because Ken was with me and, well, it took us all of three seconds to realize Mr. Doctor was more interested in talking with Ken than he was with me...) and another trip to Club Med(ication vacation).
Mr. Doctor's concerns, however, were the continued bone, joint pain, and exhaustion. Rheumatoid arthritis was his first option - "sometimes a result of the taxane chemos," he says. NOW he tells me that. "And we'll run tumor markers, just in case," along with a host of other bloodwork (the first and only time I wished I still had my port). "Of course, your Vitamin D deficiency could be causing the pain," he says. News to my ears. Didn't realize I had been dealing with a Vit D deficiency.
Laurie, my Cancer Conceirge, calls me late last week. "I see you're coming back to visit after Christmas," she says, and I tell her what's been going on. That I had my bloodwork but am still waiting for the test results. So, bless her heart, she does what she does best - pulls my records to give me the results (why can't the doctor ever do this?)
Tumor markers are within normal limits.
RA factors are within normal limits.
Vitamin D is slightly lowered, but I'm on top of that.
The rest of my bloodwork looked perfect.
So - I am assured that means I don't have RA. And while tumor marker tests aren't always perfect, we can assume I don't have a new primary tumor.
Because Laurie is wonderful, she promises to call me the day after my bone scan to give me the results; she doesn't want to me "wait and worry" over Christmas (she is truly a blessing!)
The bone scan was yesterday. Same as the bone scan I had last year: injection of nuclear dye, wait 3 hours for it to course through my body and attach to any cancerous areas in my bones so I light up like a Christmas tree under a scanner. The scan was easy-peasy (I even get to keep my clothes on), and was over before I knew it.
But this time, the tech wouldn't let me see the scan. When I asked if he saw anything concerning he simply said, "The doctor will be in touch with you in 3 to 5 business days." And he escorted me to the door.
And so I panicked. Because the last time I felt that feeling of, "I know something but I can't really tell you, but by not really telling you I am really telling you, but you have to guess, and I can't confirm, but you know what I'm trying to say, right?" was after my biopsy. And we all know what happened after that...
Laurie called this morning, as I wended my way on 94 during rush hour to my internship.
My bone scan is clean. No sign of arthritis, and no sign of bone metastases.
I am now, truly, completely, formally, dating NED. There is no evidence of disease anywhere. No guessing or hoping there's no primary tumor hiding somewhere, no worrying that there's a met spot on my spine or hip or shoulder. Nothing.
So while I celebrated (totally the wrong word, but what else do you call it?) my Cancerversary just weeks ago, I can now happily celebrate (and that's totally the right word here!) my continued relationship with NED.
I couldn't have asked for a better Chrismukah gift. Cancer is still stupid, but life is so very, very good.
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