The roller coaster ride continues
The packing up and moving out were successful, and we are now in our awesome, fancy new place! It is the polar opposite of my tiny rowhouse: huge windows, wide open spaces, tons of room, new appliances. I don't ever want to move again. I know people always say that after they move, but it's true. We LOVE this place!
Now, the coaster starts its descent. Yesterday, we met with Dr. Glick and he had some surprising news (and you know how I feel about surprises): the CT scan revealed "clinically suspicious" internal mammary nodes. This information bumps me up to Stage 3, and makes me ineligible for the clincial trial. I'm not going to gloss over this and say that it's no big deal; this was hard to swallow. We all kind of crumpled at the utterance of "Stage 3." It was the typical pattern: good news followed by a reassessment followed by bad news. It would be SO much easier to get all the bad news right from the get-go. Just give it to me up front so I know what I have to wrap my mind around. It's not fair and it sucks.
On the other hand, having this piece of information is good because it changes the radiation fields, which will make radiation more effective. And Dr. Glick is still extremely optimistic about CURE. Mom asked about my chances. Dr. Glick explained that he does not believe in statistics, that they can bring false hope or false depression, and that with me, it's either zero or one hundred. However, I am the patient, he said, and I call the shots, so if I want to know the statistics, he'll give them to me. I don't want to know (don't anyone out there tell me!). I am one hundred percent optimistic that I will be cured. Sure, I have my moments of doubt, but here's what I believe: I am a very healthy, active 34-year-old woman with a positive attitude, mental toughness, and an unbelievably strong support system. I'm in great shape, physically and emotionally. I have a superb oncologist and medical team. I have a fabulous new apartment and the most wonderful boyfriend in the world. This cancer is beatable, and I swear I'm going to beat it.
So, on to the CURE: chemotherapy begins on Tuesday. I'll be following the dose-dense protocol, which is Adriamycin and Cytoxan every two weeks for four cycles, then Taxol every two weeks for four cycles. My last chemo treatment will be October 25. A month break, then radiation for 6.5 weeks. I will be done by mid-January, and Dad is planning a trip for all of us (Mom, Dad, Jason, Josh, June, and me) for February! I love goals - that's why I did triathlons, because the goal of the race motivated me to train. So the goal of the next few months will be both CURE and a sunny mid-winter vacation!
Now, the coaster starts its descent. Yesterday, we met with Dr. Glick and he had some surprising news (and you know how I feel about surprises): the CT scan revealed "clinically suspicious" internal mammary nodes. This information bumps me up to Stage 3, and makes me ineligible for the clincial trial. I'm not going to gloss over this and say that it's no big deal; this was hard to swallow. We all kind of crumpled at the utterance of "Stage 3." It was the typical pattern: good news followed by a reassessment followed by bad news. It would be SO much easier to get all the bad news right from the get-go. Just give it to me up front so I know what I have to wrap my mind around. It's not fair and it sucks.
On the other hand, having this piece of information is good because it changes the radiation fields, which will make radiation more effective. And Dr. Glick is still extremely optimistic about CURE. Mom asked about my chances. Dr. Glick explained that he does not believe in statistics, that they can bring false hope or false depression, and that with me, it's either zero or one hundred. However, I am the patient, he said, and I call the shots, so if I want to know the statistics, he'll give them to me. I don't want to know (don't anyone out there tell me!). I am one hundred percent optimistic that I will be cured. Sure, I have my moments of doubt, but here's what I believe: I am a very healthy, active 34-year-old woman with a positive attitude, mental toughness, and an unbelievably strong support system. I'm in great shape, physically and emotionally. I have a superb oncologist and medical team. I have a fabulous new apartment and the most wonderful boyfriend in the world. This cancer is beatable, and I swear I'm going to beat it.
So, on to the CURE: chemotherapy begins on Tuesday. I'll be following the dose-dense protocol, which is Adriamycin and Cytoxan every two weeks for four cycles, then Taxol every two weeks for four cycles. My last chemo treatment will be October 25. A month break, then radiation for 6.5 weeks. I will be done by mid-January, and Dad is planning a trip for all of us (Mom, Dad, Jason, Josh, June, and me) for February! I love goals - that's why I did triathlons, because the goal of the race motivated me to train. So the goal of the next few months will be both CURE and a sunny mid-winter vacation!
posted by Rachel Troxell at 8:54 AM
1 Comments:
Rachel,
I called your mom today and heard the news of your latest roller coaster ride. You really seem to have the right attitude to beat this. We know you can do it. We are thinking of you. Enjoy your new home.
Sharon (& David)
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