To chemo or not to chemo
Hi there, any thoughts on this would be appreciated. My early breast cancer is: no node involvement, no blood / vascular involvement detected, HER2 negative. I've had a complete single mastectomy...
Forum Discussion
@iserbrown Thank you for sharing so much. I can relate to being 'drip fed information' as mine was more of a gradual unveiling than an upfront diagnosis. First I knew my life had just changed, was - 8:30 am, a missed call from my GP (after a mammogram & FNA - a lump that I had found). She got straight to the point with "Unfortunately"... I sat down. Then I was scanned six-ways-from-Sunday over the next week or so. A process that I found more comforting than scary - because it was all about knowing stuff and finding a way forward. It was the same with surgery. My surgeon smiled at me - a lovely, confident smile and I knew I was in good hands. The room was bright and everyone was cheery - I really felt like they were saving my life. (Side note: the anaesthetic felt great going in... I can see why drugs are so addictive! Sounds a bit loony, but I you gotta appreciate the 'silver linings'!
I totally get the idea of acceptance. Over the last few days it seems to have happened to me. My approach has been kinda to surrender (not resign) to the vulnerability of it all. I aim to plan my future just a few years at a time - and If I get more it's a gift. My oncologist said at one point "you could have 30 or more years" - I actually hadn't dared to think that way. My face must have looked like one of those surprised kittens on YouTube. I guess because my prognosis is > 80% she's all like "you'll probably be fine". Probably. But I don't like to cling. So I'm not clinging. I'll accept. It's like Russian roulette, but the Invisible Man has the trigger - and we don't know when he's in the mood to play. Still, most of the chambers are empty. Most. And that's now my life. As time goes by, perhaps more chambers will empty, maybe more will get loaded.
But I'll celebrate what I have when I can. I'm only here at all because innumerable ancestors endured things I'll never know; fought countless battles, lost loved ones, built and rebuilt their lives. They faced far more helplessness and uncertainty than we ever will, to build the world we know. I'll do them the honour of having courage - and do the whole 'carpe diem' thing.
Since my diagnosis I've often thought of soldiers, especially in the older wars. They sat around camps at night, knowing they'd rise to battle the next day, knowing they'd likely die, that it would probably hurt, that their families wouldn't see them again. But they bloody well got on with it. They laughed, joked, encouraged each other, ate a decent meal. And just got on with it. I'm pretty sure I have their DNA 'cause I can almost feel them, feel the lump in their throats, their shaking hands, and hear their laughter.
Don't know where that came from, guess the sun's setting and I'm feeling inspired. Yes I'm similar in the crying department. The eyes have been a bit leaky now & then - nothing much. But if I see a story, especially 'happy tears' - I just lose it. Yes, dogs especially - what's with that! Here's to life.
I totally get the idea of acceptance. Over the last few days it seems to have happened to me. My approach has been kinda to surrender (not resign) to the vulnerability of it all. I aim to plan my future just a few years at a time - and If I get more it's a gift. My oncologist said at one point "you could have 30 or more years" - I actually hadn't dared to think that way. My face must have looked like one of those surprised kittens on YouTube. I guess because my prognosis is > 80% she's all like "you'll probably be fine". Probably. But I don't like to cling. So I'm not clinging. I'll accept. It's like Russian roulette, but the Invisible Man has the trigger - and we don't know when he's in the mood to play. Still, most of the chambers are empty. Most. And that's now my life. As time goes by, perhaps more chambers will empty, maybe more will get loaded.
But I'll celebrate what I have when I can. I'm only here at all because innumerable ancestors endured things I'll never know; fought countless battles, lost loved ones, built and rebuilt their lives. They faced far more helplessness and uncertainty than we ever will, to build the world we know. I'll do them the honour of having courage - and do the whole 'carpe diem' thing.
Since my diagnosis I've often thought of soldiers, especially in the older wars. They sat around camps at night, knowing they'd rise to battle the next day, knowing they'd likely die, that it would probably hurt, that their families wouldn't see them again. But they bloody well got on with it. They laughed, joked, encouraged each other, ate a decent meal. And just got on with it. I'm pretty sure I have their DNA 'cause I can almost feel them, feel the lump in their throats, their shaking hands, and hear their laughter.
Don't know where that came from, guess the sun's setting and I'm feeling inspired. Yes I'm similar in the crying department. The eyes have been a bit leaky now & then - nothing much. But if I see a story, especially 'happy tears' - I just lose it. Yes, dogs especially - what's with that! Here's to life.