#38 Friday Night.

My doctor agreed at my last appointment that the tumor doesn't feel a whole lot smaller and it should, really. I've completed one entire round of AC chemo - the strongest chemo in all the land... it should be working. Normally diagnostic imaging isn't done until chemo is done, before surgery to asses how things worked and get a clearer picture of the landscape before the chop. For me though, and to assess, we need more imaging to proceed appropriately. My cancer is so rare, the Drs don't know how it will behave. There just haven't been enough studies done.

So I had an ultrasound at the CIBC Breast Assesment Centre that's attached to my cancer hospital. It's a place where women get their annual exams. They specialize only in ultrasound, mammography and biopsies. It was my first stop in this cancer trip, I remember going in and looking around and thinking it was a nice place. Lots of plants, no bald people looking like they got some bad news, nice TV playing relaxing home reno shows and everyone was super friendly. When I went the first time I was in the little waiting room with about 5 other women, all in our little gowns waiting for our tests. It was like a ladies only doctors office. No one looked sick or sad.

When I went yesterday it was the same setup. This time though, I was the sick bald one. In the little waiting room all the women made eye contact with me at some point and one lady was staring at me while I was pretending to watch the TV, as I've said before I'm getting used to it. I'm a scary thing to see before a mammogram, such a young woman with cancer, and clearly breast cancer because there I sit.

1 in 8 women will develop breast cancer in her lifetime, 1 in 22 of those women will die from it. I was thinking about this and I counted 11 women in the waiting room. This means that statistically one more person in that room besides me could potentially get the news I did. I felt sorry for everyone. Women go through so much already, having to worry about breast cancer is just so awful. I'm not glad that I have breast cancer, obviously....but I'll tell you: The thought of having to go through screening every year and wonder isn't something I'd like either.

My screenings in the future will not be of my non-existent breasts because the risk of getting cancer in something that's not there is pretty low. LOL. BUT my screening will be body screening, to ensure some bad little cells didn't migrate and hide out. I will always be on guard. For now though, the focus is on the breast and the lymph nodes.

At my diagnosis, right before I started chemo the MRI showed cancer in what looked like 9 lymph nodes, with a few big ones. The breast tumor was around 5cm. My cancer is micropapilliary - a very rare and more deadly form of breast cancer. My doctor says the rate of that cancer is about 1-2%. Statistically, I figure if I was an odd and got it. I could be an odd and survive it too. There's no absolute death rate for anything. There's always hope.

I got called before anyone in the waiting room. B.C (Before cancer) I used to wait for hours in drs offices. Cancer is a trip to the front of the line. whether it's for a test or in the Emergency Room. People don't fake cancer. Actually, I shouldn't say that, I've heard stories of people saying they've had cancer to try to influence others and that's a whole other kind of sick. I think even thinking you might have cancer gives it energy it shouldn't have. I think of my cancer as something that isn't even close to as resilient or tough as me. Just some bad cells trying to cause trouble that I will be taking care of and continuing on in spite of.

Anyway, the cancer in the breast does seem to be stubborn. My ultrasound revealed that there hasn't been much change in size, despite the chemo. Good news though that my lymph nodes seem to appear more normal now, and the two larger ones seem a little smaller. This is hopeful. This means that maybe the chemo is working.

With tumors, the only way to really know if what is being measured is cancerous is through a biopsy. My tumor could be dead cancer, or inflammed cells that are dying. Ultrasound is good for getting an idea but the technician and the on call Dr there agreed I would need an MRI to get some more information. I worried when they told me this. I immediately thought maybe they need the MRI because it looks worse or is spreading to my chest wall. Then I stopped myself and remembered that the lymph nodes look better and I should focus on the good. Any less cancer is a good thing.

So my next oncologist appointment is Monday. I go to the lab, make sure my blood markers are high enough to endure chemo again and have a chat with the Dr. This time we'll discuss me having an MRI and the results of the ultrasound. I get anxious just thinking about it. It's one thing to go to a Drs appointment and fear the worst, I'm sure most people do at some point consider bad news....but it's a whole other thing to go repeatedly and get that bad news. It's hard not to get down on yourself and think you don't deserve good news.

When the technician told me my lymph nodes definitely looked different in a good way (they had fat in them not a mass) I almost didn't believe it. It reminded me of when I went for the biopsy and the Dr told me that he didn't see cancer disrupting my life too much...that the tumor wasn't that big and it didn't look like it was in my lymph nodes. I tried not to let that ruin the moment for me. Not everything is going to be disappointing. I tell myself this. I am allowed good news and I deserve it.

Then I walked home, gotta get those steps in. I've been cracking 8,000 each day for over a week now. It really does take effort. Today I went to the gym and discovered if I go fast enough on the eliptical it looks like I'm taking lots of steps. I wouldn't call it cheating, I'm still exercising. I did some weights today too. I just do them to do them. I'm not trying to build muscle anymore, I'm trying to hang on to what seems to be fading by the week.

I remember going to the gym and being irritated with my body because I put on muscle too quickly and started to look dude-like. How silly I was, in so many ways. I wish I could go back and tell younger me to just enjoy having a healthy body, and to treat it better. To not be so critical and demanding of it. To rest it when it was tired or hurt, and to always see it as the amazing machine it is.

Even now, despite the fact that I have cancer, my body is amazing. It recovers from basically a poisoning every two weeks. I am still able to digest food, I can exercise, my mind is still sharp. My body recovers from such an assault it's incredible. It's why I don't have such a hard time not eating sugar or diary. I miss it, God do I miss the odd cookie or nacho night...but I think about how much harder my body would have to work to digest it, and that it would be feeding the cancer...and not me.

I still eat fruit, it's not like I'm in ketosis. For me that just isn't a sustainable way of eating right now. I like to have a little sweetness. Raspberries are nuggets of joy. There are few things better than a perfectly ripe raspberry with just the right bite. I could go on...I won't.

Jason is at the gym right now. He used to like to go in the early early mornings, which I never could understand. You people that set your alarm to wake up and workout are special people to me. It's a club. I will never be an alarm worker-outer. I tried it for about a week and I couldn't stand it. It really did feel like torture, and no I didn't think I felt so much beter after, no better than a regular time workout. Jason was that guy, often even riding his bike to the gym at 6am...he doesn't do that anymore.

He gets up, makes the kids lunches, makes me a fresh pressed juice and gets everyone to school. Some days I can't even get out of bed to say bye to the babies, he does it all. He's been doing it every single day since 2019.

So he has to go to the gym right after work, when the gym is busier and when he'd rather be having his post work quicknap and snack....he's made so many sacrifices for us. He continues to be amazing and selfless. So, on Friday nights the kids are with their Dads and I'm by myself until after 6, its a long lonely day. I'm happy this is the last Friday I'll watch the sunset by myself. Thank you daylight savings. I remember the Fridays of 2019 when we used to go bowling and I looked forward to going out. I'd do my hair. Oh my hair...I do miss that too. It seems like forever ago. Sometimes I could swear my hair is still on my head and I often catch myself feeling lucky when I find a pony somewhere because I'm always losing them. I miss the feeling of brushing my hair, the weight of it on my head. Fridays are tough days. I guess it's either a chemo day or the end of a long solitary week, either way, I don't care for Friday anymore than I would a Monday now.

As I write this, Jason is back already. Not even gone an hour. I asked him why he's back so soon and he said it was because he missed me today and wanted to come home to be with me and the gym wasn't where I was. It was touching. It's little moments like this that really keep me going. I'm not saying I wouldn't have realized how truly wonderful he is if I didn't have cancer, it just might have taken me a lot longer. Another thing to be grateful for.

A cancer diagnosis has a way of shining light on the things and people that mean the most, and a way of exposing the still beating heart of everyday life.