Goodbye, Ned; Hello, Jabba

Those of us from Breastlandia are monitored closely for signs and symptoms of metastatic recurrence for the first two years.  Different kinds of breast cancer, however, have different long-term metastatic recurrence rates.  ER+ Invasive Ductal Carcinoma (or IDC) can recur years later; the first three to five years is critical for triple negative.  Her2+, Invasive Lobular, Luminal A or B subtypes - all have different ranges for metastatic recurrence.  This is why some of us aren't comfortable or just can't bring ourselves to say we're "cured" until, perhaps, we die of something else.  There is a shadow of looming recurrence, waiting for the other shoe to drop, hoping and praying that day never comes.

So once treatment was complete and my scans and bloodwork and exams were normal, my oncologist pronounced I had "No Evidence of Disease."

And so I started dating Ned.

Now, in my mind Ned looks like this, all hot and sexy and warrior-like, brandishing his sword to slay any rouge cancer cells circulating through my body, determined to fight back any chance of recurrence:

"Hey girl..."

I liked dating Ned.  Pretty sure Ken liked me dating Ned, too.  But alas, our relationship has come to an end.  If he had to leave, my hope is that Ned has moved on to another relationship - or, rather, a multitude of relationships - and that they last a lifetime.

And now I'm Hangin' with Jabba.  I was able to get a disc of my original ultrasound, where I caught my first sight of Jabba:

"Hey girl..."

Okay, so not really.  Here's the actual image from the ultrasound, with Jabba outlined for clarity:

See the resemblance?

On Monday, Jabba will be evicted - or, at least most of Jabba will be breaking up with Lucy (the end of another beautiful relationship).

It's been a long week of waiting for this surgery, which should give us the final pieces of my cancer puzzle.  We expect to learn the Her2 status within a few days that will determine the ultimate chemotherapy regimen.  We will also learn the true size of the tumor itself which will help us determine the stage.  The surgeon will attempt a sentinal node biopsy, injecting radioactive tracer prior to surgery to determine the first (or "sentinal") node the tracer travels to.  This node as well as several others will be removed and examine for cancer cells.  Previous radiation may make the node biopsy impossible; if so, we'll tackle that during surgery later this summer.  And lastly, I'll be reunited with Portia, the power port installed in my right chest area to allow for chemotheraphy delivery.

My bone scan on Wednesday revealed nothing exciting (except that I look like a skeleton under all my skin and muscle).  Monday's CT scan confirmed the size of the tumor and didn't reveal any obvious cancer in the lymph nodes under my arm.  Except for Jabba, things look pretty spectacular inside my insides.

Ned never shoulda left me.  I've got proof I'm just as beautiful on the inside as I am on the outside.