Fractured Fairy Tales

Once upon a time there was a little girl, who fell and broke her arm.  Her mom and dad took her to the hospital, and the doctor put her arm in a sling instead of a cast.  She cried and cried, saying, "What if no one believes I broke my arm because it's not in a cast?"  Her sister replied, "Don't worry - I'll take care of them."


If you met me on the street today (or saw me around the office, or caught me typing a final in the computer lab), you would never know I have cancer.  There is some advantage in this:  I don't have to talk about it, I don't have to explain, I don't have to kindly listen while people apologize for this "horrible, terrible" thing that has happened.  I appreciate their kind words and intentions, but sometimes, it's nice to pretend everything's "normal."

On the other hand, if you met me on the street today, you would never know I have cancer.  I have my breast.  I still have my hair.  Body willing, I will be back to yoga and running (or walking...or crawling) next week.  Sometimes, other people forget; when I say or do something that reminds them, some seem almost hesitant to believe I still have cancer.  Yes, I had surgery, and my margins are clean.  Yes, they removed my lymph nodes and they are clear.  But that doesn't mean the cancer is necessarily gone.  And it doesn't mean there isn't a likelihood of recurrence.  And that doesn't mean I feel any better physically or emotionally.

We met with the surgeon on Tuesday, and he confirmed that everything looks really good.  I learned two new things that I had not known before:  first, they removed 7, not 4, lymph nodes.  But all are clear.  And second, in addition to invasive ductal carcinoma (IDC), I also have ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS).  Often, IDC springs from DCIS that invades surrounding tissue.  DCIS is easier to treat than IDC.  And when both cancers are involved, the focus becomes IDC.  These pieces of info were important to us because we realized that this is bigger than we initially thought - but we're still in a good place, and it's still going to be okay.

On Friday, we meet with the medical, or hematology oncologist.  This is the doctor who will determine the chemo treatment.  Am I having chemo?  I'll know for certain on Friday, but we've been told it will most likely happen.  We may have a choice in this; we will certainly have input in the decision.  We may have to weigh risks and benefits.  We won't know more until Friday, but I've always been a "prepare for the worst, hope for the best" kinda girl.  

In some ways I would welcome chemo.  I need to feel aggressive, or even "vicious" as Dan said to Ken.  I don't want to go through this again; I want it to be done.  I want to go on with my life.

I may not look broken, but there are parts of me that are mending. and like a sling that cradles, instead of a hard cast that limits movement, I have lots of loving people around me who will "take care of them" and support my recovery.  Thank you all for being part of my journey.