Treatment decision paralysis
Hi Everyone, I’m sitting in a grey zone at the moment and trying to understand how you weigh up your options with so many unknowns! I’ve just received Prosigna results back which show a 10% c...
Forum Discussion
@JaneinMelbourne I was 43 when I was first diagnosed--a particularly nasty, invasive and evasive lobular version of our disease. Having spent a couple of years chasing this shitty tumour, I was already suffering battle fatigue; I knew I was going to lose my tits and the thought of chemo as well was all a bit much. In my case it was likely to make a 4-7% difference. Maybe.
Anyway, I hauled my miserable self off to see a councilor, which was surprisingly helpful. That was late on a Friday afternoon and as I drove away I made a deal with myself that if I could get my hair cut off on the way home I'd submit to the poisoning. The first two hairdressers where booked out, so I decided that if I was not going to have chemo, I'd probably need gin.
When I pulled into the carpark of the local shopping centre with my eye on the bottlo, I spied a little beauty salon so stuck my head in and asked if they had a spot. They did. Twenty minutes later, my waist length hair had been bundled into a plait and lopped off. There were tears all round--me and the hairdresser and another woman sitting there getting a perm.
Not a very scientific approach, I know, but its illustrative of how I make choices when I'd rather not make them--chuck it to the gods and see what happens. A bit like tossing a coin, but the odds aren't 50-50. I hope you figure this out and find some comfort in whichever decision you end up making. Mxx
Anyway, I hauled my miserable self off to see a councilor, which was surprisingly helpful. That was late on a Friday afternoon and as I drove away I made a deal with myself that if I could get my hair cut off on the way home I'd submit to the poisoning. The first two hairdressers where booked out, so I decided that if I was not going to have chemo, I'd probably need gin.
When I pulled into the carpark of the local shopping centre with my eye on the bottlo, I spied a little beauty salon so stuck my head in and asked if they had a spot. They did. Twenty minutes later, my waist length hair had been bundled into a plait and lopped off. There were tears all round--me and the hairdresser and another woman sitting there getting a perm.
Not a very scientific approach, I know, but its illustrative of how I make choices when I'd rather not make them--chuck it to the gods and see what happens. A bit like tossing a coin, but the odds aren't 50-50. I hope you figure this out and find some comfort in whichever decision you end up making. Mxx