In this brief 4 week journey, Mondays have been our momentous (and often emotional) days.

Monday, Jan 15^th

I went in for what I thought would be a very routine ultrasound / mammogram.  I expected to hear that I had a “milk-filled cyst” from nursing our 8 month old, and instead was told I likely had a golf-ball size cancerous tumor in my breast.  On top of that, the radiologist saw several  lymph nodes that were suspicious for cancer.  Friday, the biopsy results were confirmed: a fast-growing “her2neu” positive tumor in my breast, and cancer in at least one lymph node.  Rex Hospital set us up for two appointments: with the surgeon and the oncologist of our choice for a few days later.

 

Monday, Jan 22^nd

We had two doctors’ appointments back-to-back on Monday afternoon.  After a weekend of not knowing at all what we would hear, it was encouraging to have conversations centered around treatment.  Both physicians were truthful that this is a serious cancer, and that it needs to be treated aggressively, but gave us such hope that there are excellent treatments and strategies that we can employ against this Invader.

 

Monday, Jan 29^th

The most difficult part of this short journey that we’ve been on is the unknown.  Those few days between biopsy and receiving results stretched on and on.  Once we met with the physicians on Monday, the 22^nd, I was told I would have numerous scans to see if the cancer had spread (since it was positive in my lymph nodes, it could have traveled beyond and metastasized already to other places in my body).  And the most common places breast cancer metastasizes to all scared me: brain, lungs, bones, and liver.

I went in on Monday evening, the 29^th, for the brain MRI and the PET scan.  Gabe was there for both, precious husband.  It’s difficult to describe again the range of emotion we felt.  The tenderness we experienced as we watched each other, me in hospital gowns with IVs, and all that special gear (the helmet for the MRI, etc).  Him faithfully stationed right outside the MRI or PET scan tube where I lay motionless, head bowed praying the whole time.  Of course, we felt fear: what if the cancer was everywhere already? But in the next moment, we would put our focus back on our Father who loves us, whose character we can trust without hesitation, and felt indescribable peace.  We know He will carry us regardless of where this journey takes our family.

The rest of the week was a flurry of news, information, preparation, and a port procedure.  The scans showed no metastases in other places of my body: we were elated.  The only news that was disappointing was that it had spread fairly extensively to my lymph nodes.  The oncologist showed us the PET scan: when we got to the underarm area, it was like numerous little light bulbs all glowing on the scan.  I was staged as having “Stage 3B” breast cancer, and we set our sights on Monday as the start of chemo.

 

Monday, Feb 5^th

First chemo infusion.  It honestly felt surreal.

I feel 100% healthy, and have had no noticeable symptoms from the cancer.  My pill regimen to date has been a prenatal vitamin the last 5 years, with an occasional ibuprofen if I’m sore from exercising.  Suddenly, I have so many medications that I’ve organized them in box which I keep high up in our closet, so our kids have no opportunity to access them.  I spent Monday evening organizing the medications / dosing schedule, etc in an excellent app Gabe found for me called RoundHealth, because I could not keep them straight in my head.  Strange.

Gabe and I arrived for the infusion at 8:30am.  I received 4 different drugs through my port, and it was completely uneventful (praise God!).  One is called Taxotere, and folks can have pretty serious reactions to it.  I had none.  My friend Anne who had breast cancer a few years ago told me this is the “first day of getting better.”  That was  really helpful for me to frame the day.

I came home, and our highly talented friend and neighbor Tracey Spampinato, took a few pictures of Gabe and I.  She’s recorded lots of chapters of our lives: pregnancies, babies, playing in the snow.  It means so much to us.  The rest of the day was sweet, and normal, and joyful.  Playing games with the kids, eating dinner together, doing the bedtime routine.  Oh, and then organizing medications on my RoundHealth app.  This will be an strange season of many contrasts, I’m sure.

I have 3 weeks “off” until my next round of chemo is scheduled for Monday, Feb 26^th.  The first half of the cycle is supposed to be more heavy on the side effects, while the last week before chemo, I’ve been told I should feel pretty good.  We’ll wait and see.  One day at a time.