That dreaded little pill

I saw my oncologist last week, and she prescribed an oral chemotherapy drug for me to attempt to keep my cancer at bay.  It’s an aromatase inhibitor called Arimidex.  It’s side effects are like going through menopause again:  hot flashes, moodiness, insomnia...plus the additional possibility of joint and bone pain.  Not looking forward to this, but it is what it is.

I paused this morning before I swallowed my first dose and said to that dreaded little pill, “I hate you.”  I just had to get that out of my system.  I don’t really hate it.  I do wish I didn’t have to take it, but I’m very appreciative of the potential effectiveness of it.  Aromatase inhibitors stop the production on any residual estrogen in my body, at this point likely stored in my fat cells.  See, even if you go through menopause, you still have estrogen stores in your body.  Since my cancer is estrogen-receptor positive, taking an aromatase inhibitor is the best defense I have against another recurrence.

I’ll have another follow up appointment in three months and another PET scan in six months.  In the meantime, I’m looking forward to life getting on to its new normal.  Already, the fatigue from the IV chemo is abating, and I’ve got some fuzz growing back on my head.

New fuzz on my head...and a hat imprint on my forehead.

Today, I’m going to the drug store to buy some B12 to help get over the fatigue and some Biotin to hopefully help with hair regrowth.

I’m still coming to terms with the loss of my mother.  We now are the owners of her car, a 2001 Buick LeSabre, definitely a “granny car,” and every time I pull in the driveway and see it there, I remember all her trips to our house to help with the boys when they were young.  We got it to have it available to Allen when he’s home.  He’s not particularly thrilled with the make and model, but to him, it’s a free car, at the ready for his use.

I’m also investigating ways to get out in the community in some form of service.  I’ll keep you all posted as developments occur.

The best news ever

I received the best news ever!  My PET scan done Monday showed absolutely no cancer!  Once again, I’ve beaten this thing.

Even though I’m overjoyed, I proceed with cautious optimism.  I think once you have a recurrence, you realize only too well how easily it can happen again.  I’m not going to live my life waiting for the next shoe to fall.  I plan to get out there and really enjoy myself, but there’s always going to be a wonder, an inkling, a worry.

But, right now I’m celebrating!  As luck would have it, I’m with girlfriends

Because when you find a giant peanut on the side of the road, you have to stop and take your picture with it.

on our annual weekend getaway, and we are rejoicing together.  There’s nothing like spending time with these old friends that I met as a young mother.  We provided the network of support for each other while raising our children through those difficult early years.  Now we’re sending them off to college.  We’ve been there for each other through some of us returning back to the workforce and the sickness and death of parents, providing the help to navigate through rough waters.  I can’t imagine my life without them.

While my heart still grieves over the loss of my mother, I can see the light ahead, and there is great promise for what the future holds.  I think mom would have liked that.  She was a resilient woman who withstood a lot in her life.  What a great example to me as I follow through to the next stage of this journey.

Mom’s service Tuesday was lovely.  My siblings and I all gave brief eulogies, each offering our own unique memories.  We laughed together and cried together.  Mom would have been pleased with her sendoff.  It was a fitting classy affair for a classy lady.

Next week, I meet with my oncologist to discuss the next phase.  I’ll have many, many more PET scans while I’m in surveillance mode.  I’ll very likely start some oral medication, like tamoxifen or megace, to attempt to keep the cancer from returning, and my hair will start growing back in!

But, what I’m most looking forward to is the sense of getting my life back.  Less doctors appointments, more energy, the freedom to pursue whatever the next stage of my life will bring.  I’m searching for something.  Something to stave off this empty next syndrome I’ve been fighting since I sent both my boys off to college.  There’s a calling out there for me.  I just have to look for it.

So, rejoice with me, dear readers.  You’ve all been such a source of strength for me during this bout with the beast.  Thanks to all of you for all that you’ve done to help me reach this place.  I’ll keep you posted about future developments.

The long good bye

Mom as a child

My mother passed away last night after a long battle with the horrible disease of dementia.  So many times, I wished I could have talked to her about my journey with cancer, but she was beyond understanding when I was diagnosed.  Perhaps that’s for the best.  She didn’t need that worry.

Mom started to decline in 2011, about a year before my diagnosis, and it’s been a process of stages of saying good bye as we watched her slowly slip away.  The long good bye.

But, there are many wonderful memories, including the last time I saw her.  Paul, the boys, and I visited her at her assisted living home, and she knew all of us, even cracking a few jokes.  It’s times like those that I will focus on to carry me through this difficult period.

Mom’s obituary can be found by clicking here.  We’ll be traveling back to my hometown in South Carolina early next week for the funeral.

Thankfully, this is week 3 of my treatment cycle, so my energy levels are pretty good.  I have my follow up PET scan on Monday, when I’ll find out how effective the six cycles of chemotherapy were.  Even if the scan reveals good news, I suspect I’ll still be prescribed some oral chemotherapy, like tamoxifen and/or megace, to be proactive in keeping the cancer at bay.

That’s all the news for now.  I mostly just wanted to share about my mom.  She was a great lady, and I will miss her beyond measure.