Last Chemo – Two Years Ago Today

Two years ago today I completed my 8th and final chemo treatment for breast cancer. Some days it feels like so long ago. But most days it feels like just yesterday.

My hair has grown back. It’s short, but no longer looks like I’ve been through chemo.

My energy has come back, for the most part.

My chemo brain still lingers, but no where near what it was during active treatment.

I’ve even gotten used to my new breasts. But I have to say, I don’t think I’ll ever get over loosing my natural breasts. Fake breasts just aren’t the same. For so many reasons.

While I’m grateful that I’m a ‘survivor’ (I hate that word, but that’s a blog post for another time), a day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about all I’ve been through in the last two years. It’s hard to move past a breast cancer diagnosis when you’re reminded of it every morning when you get dressed and see the mastectomy scars.

I do feel like I’m acting more like my pre-cancer self – going out with friends, regularly exercising, taking trips, not completely freaking out every time I feel an ache and pain. But as most people feel who have had a cancer diagnosis, the fear of recurrence is always in the back of my mind. You try to live as much of a normal life as possible, but it’s sometimes hard to quiet those dark thoughts in your head.

In the last two years since finishing chemo, I’ve joined a support group through the Young Survival Coalition. This organization focuses on supporting young women – 40 and under at diagnosis – with breast cancer. It’s so helpful to talk with other women who have gone through and are going through similar experiences as you. It makes me feel less alone and more understood.

I’m also trying to pay it forward a bit. There are newly diagnosed women that come to the support group every month. I remember how I felt at that time – scared, worried, nervous, anxious, etc. So I try not to sugar coat it and to tell these young women that breast cancer sucks. But I also tell them that we’ll be here to help her through it. Sitting and listening was the best help for me, so I’m trying to do the same for these women.

As I mark another milestone of one more year past my last chemo treatment, I’ve noticed that I’ve made other changes in my life too. Some are deliberate, some just happen after going through a traumatic event. I find myself spending less time doing things I don’t want to do. More time with people I want to be with. Going to places that have been on my list to visit. I used to be a person that read magazines cover to cover. Now if there’s an article I’m only mildly interested in, I’ll turn the page. No time for that now. Even if I am lucky enough to be alive for 50 more years, that’s a good life lesson, cancer or no cancer. I just wish I didn’t have to be diagnosed with breast cancer to learn it.

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A Change of Perspective

I’m a little behind on my blogging lately. I’ve been busy doing fun things. What a nice change from being tired as a result of cancer treatments and doctors’ appointments.

Last month, I had my first infusion of Zometa. Zometa is a bone strengthening drug, which also has shown to prevent recurrences of breast cancer in some studies. My oncologist wanted me to do this treatment since in July of this year, I was diagnosed with osteoporosis in my spine. Yes, the joys of breast cancer continue.

I was pretty bummed about having osteoporosis, but even more bummed about the treatment, since the drug is administered in the chemo area of the hospital. I never wanted to be back there. Ever.

My oncologist told me I could expect flu-like symptoms the first couple days after the treatment. So I scheduled the infusion for a Friday, giving myself the weekend to recover. It felt like chemo all over again – figuring out when my body would have the worst reactions to treatment and how long it would take to recover.

So I went to the hospital, as early as possible, to get it over with. The sooner I got there, the sooner it would be over. They start infusions at 9 a.m., so that’s what I did.

The nurses were so nice, as usual. I feel very grateful to be so well taken care of. Not everyone has that experience.

The infusion didn’t hurt at all. I barely even noticed the needle going in or out. I guess I’m just used to that by now. They started the infusion, I turned on my iPod, closed by eyes, and 5 songs later, it was over. As my oncologist promised, the infusion only took 20 minutes. The whole thing took about 45 minutes. Couldn’t wait for it to be over.

I went home and laid on my couch. I was pretty exhausted. Of course I didn’t sleep the night before. The first time I do anything, I’m always nervous. So getting rest that night didn’t really happen. The emotional toll was worse than the physical toll for this treatment.

My oncologist told me to drink a TON (her emphasis) of water. Zometa is flushed out through the kidneys. So water gets it out of the system. I spent the day on the couch, in and out of napping. I did get this souvenir from the infusion – a lovely bruise on my arm:

Bruise From Zometa Infusion

The next morning I woke up, feeling pretty tired still but not terrible. No flu-like symptoms yet, but I decided to stay in to rest and keep drinking that water.

Around 8 p.m., I decided to go to bed early to catch up on that sleepless night the night before the treatment. But that’s when the flu-like symptoms showed up. I started to get some chills and feel a bit nauseous. I actually haven’t felt cold in a long time. Hot flashes and overall heat is my normal body temperature these days, thanks to Tamoxifen and my oophorectomy (the removal of my ovaries). So in a weird way, it felt kind of nice to be cold. The nausea though, I could do without that.

The flu-like symptoms only lasted for a couple hours. As I laid in bed eating ginger to help settle my stomach and with a wool hat on my head to try to warm up, I kept telling myself, “You’ve been through worse. This is nothing.” It actually kept me calm and helped me not freak out about what was happening with my body.

Not that I really needed it, but the Zometa infusion and my body’s reaction was a reminder that I’ve been through the ringer in these last 2 years – a double mastectomy, 8 rounds of chemo that lasted 4 months, 1 reconstructive surgery, 32 zaps of radiation over 7 weeks (5 days a week), an oophorectomy, and countless tests and doctors’ appointments. My perspective has changed. A little chill and nausea for a couple hours? No big deal. I can handle that.

So, I snuggled with my dog Murphy for some body warmth and TLC. Then next thing I knew, the chills and nausea were gone and I went to sleep. Another cancer experience that I’m happy to be moving past.