My Great Breast Cancer Adventure

Example of a Conversation with My Oncologist

A 15-minute phone check-in, after three weeks of taking five Xeloda pills instead of four:

Me: "I think I need to go up from five to six. My fingers still aren't cracking, or my feet. I feel about the same, in terms of bones and the injured shoulder. Dr. R. agrees. (Dr. R is my trusted advisor/consultant doctor, not an oncologist per se but a practicing doctor who knows more about cancer treatments than 99 percent of the oncologists out there, because he constantly researches it and consults on it and has an open mind instead of a closed mind).

Oncologist: "Yes, we are in agreement. Up it to six for the next three weeks, then have another blood test. The test results will tell us if it has started to work. If it's not working by then, we drop Xeloda and change to something else."

Me: "Couldn't we go up to seven pills and see if that might do the trick?"

Changing My Career: Some Ideas

Here's another daily write from the past (May 17th):

Workity-work-work. For two whole days I fantasized about being a garbageman/woman, thought how nice and easy that job would be, freeing me from the hassles of interacting with people. This current job (vocation? career?) of mine requires me to interact with clients (service), students (instruction/facilitation), and a slew of independent contractors -- two dozen teachers and a 4-hour a week assistant -- (supervision/management). That is three different categories of "people interactions." My misanthrope's idea of a full-blown nightmare.

Garbagewoman: Hang on to back of truck, leap off, grab cans and junk, heave into truck, jump back onto back of truck, rumble off to the next stop. Chat with the other couple of workers, maybe. Or the driver. Say hi to early-bird clients standing outside in their bathrobes or getting into their cars about to head off to their own jobs, most of them not beloved.

Twittering, PR, and Medical Cannabis

Yesterday I spent the first half of the day with my right arm in a sling but still typing. I had to sit in a weird position using lots of pillows to support the position, but I needed to keep working on PR for the next round of Writing Salon classes. They don't just fill themselves up, ya know.

I decided to focus on Twitter, because I've neglected it for the most part, and I fear that if I don't get with the program and pretend I am 28 instead of 58, the Writing Salon will fade into oblivion. Soon no one will be looking at flyers on bulletin boards, for example. Bulletin boards probably won't even exist. Craig's List will probably become antiquated, too. I have to keep up with the reality of social networking as a means of marketing one's business. God help me.

This and That

Here's a quickie "daily write" (sort of like a diary entry) that I did back on May 19th. I'm thinking maybe I'll intersperse some of my blog posts with past daily writes. So today I'm inserting one from five weeks ago.

***

What a day, what a day: Cinnamon challah bread, New York Cheesecake, Little House on the Prairie (yes, I confess, I do love that show and still happily watch the reruns, lost in the prairie family, big bonnet fantasy), chaotic course description submitted by an aspiring Writing Salon teacher, succinct and appropriate course description submitted by another aspiring teacher, new online course description submitted by a current teacher, AND more obsessive RV fantasies leading to perusal of Airstream website and much self-questioning of sanity. What the . . . ? Oh, and a chain email letter that will make me rich, featuring feng shui money bags and the number eleven.

Additionally: Wonky spine, stubborn ribs, wayward nerves, early morning earplugs that wouldn't shut out my noisy angry thoughts about the oncologist's reception office workers, their attitude toward us clients, as if we are the enemy, the gnats that must be swatted away when we call with questions or requests that they don't think we should be asking or requesting. I hate them but I also understand that a big part of their job entails  dealing with insurance company shit. No wonder they are nasty and unfriendly.

I'm Still Here--Just Had to Take a Break from Blogging about Breast Cancer

Hi everybody. If I tried to catch you up on all the details of my "journey" during the almost-four months since my last post here, it would take too long. Honestly, I'd rather use that time to just lay back on this sunny Sunday and watch another couple of old episodes of the Canadian crime drama, Intelligence, that I can watch via Instant Play on Netflix. I don't think it's a GREAT series (Breaking Bad is a GREAT series, in my opinion), but it's good. I also recently discovered the BBC crime drama, Luther. I like Luther a lot. I particularly like the character of Alice, and the relationship between Luther and Alice.

I have been watching a great deal of TV, these last few months, because moving -- literally -- hurt too much. Various bone/muscle issues . . . the roundabout/indirect results of breast cancer that has metasticized . . . forced me to limit my mobility. I am by no means an invalid - in fact I just finished teaching a five-week class last week - but my physical activity, overall, has been quite limited. I'm not even driving a car.

Medical Update, Briefly: My body, for whatever reasons, could not tolerate the drug tamoxifen. I tried it for two months (see last post), until I thought I would rather just be dead than continue to feel the way it made me feel. I DID feel like an invalid, during the worst weeks of being on that drug. I could barely move at all, it made me so miserable. I was a stone sitting or lying on the couch, day in and day out, 23 hours a day. But that is in the past.