Blazing Saddles

     We met with our Plastic Surgeons today.  You would have wanted to be a fly on that wall!  Think Mel Brooks History of the World, Part 1 meets Michael Jackson kissing Lisa Marie on stage…it was a train wreck in slow motion that you couldn't help but laugh (on the inside) and just pray the end was near.  

     After my baby covered all of her surgical options, and there are a lot of options, then she drilled the poor young surgical prodigy about what her expectations were, there’s a lot of those too! So after the info and niceties were exchanged, she was asked to disrobe and put on what was just barely more than a patch with a strap for her bottoms and a gown so the evaluations could take place.  Following hospital protocol, the doctor asked a female nurse to join us, then our primary Plastic Surgeon joined with a large Nikon…you can see where this is going.  She never saw it coming.  Five people in a small hospital room for several compromising pictures…I am certain this will rank as one of the highest most embarrassing moments of her life.  The good doctor covered what he expected of her to prepare for the surgery and I’m fairly confident she didn’t hear one word he said; it was time to go and she doesn’t like to wait. 

     We’ve gone through 16 weeks since our diagnose, 13 weeks since our first chemo, and this is our 12^th and final Taxol.  It was like most of our appointments; slow, late, and the waiting room is always packed.  Once we finished, we trudged home and went straight to bed.  Glad to be done, but not looking forward to what’s coming next.  And for good reason.  She had a really hard time bouncing back from this one.  The treatments have collectively amounted to a barrage of poison that is taking its toll on her.  But a cake walk compared to what we’d face next.

BRACA update

     We did get some good news, Amy tested negative for the BRACA test/gene. It wouldn’t have changed our predicament in the least, but it would have been nice to know why we were here in the first place. My wife has a new appreciation for all those beautiful souls a couple blocks away at Texas Children’s who have to go through the same and more. Not that any of those kids deserved to be there either. We’ll be spending some of our Christmas time there when the holidays roll around again. 

     With the 11^th of 12 treatments staring straight at us, we’re looking at the stats to see what our odds might look like if we call it good right here and just move on. The side effects are relentless and still getting worse. The smell of this place does something to her that’s difficult to explain.  It’s like letting out a bloodcurdling scream without saying a word. The feeling of being cornered, trapped, and isolated along with the anxiety, pain, and nausea makes for an experience most only see in war and, well, in cancer.  

     Two more… by the end of this day, one.

I still hate cancer!

Well, we’re back.  The good doctor offered to start us back on a lower dose to see how her body faired but Amy declined and asked for the full dose – we fully intend to see this through and take every opportunity to decrease our odds of ever coming back.  Good for her!  
     We met with our Genetics MD today.  A lot more is involved than what we were prepared for with this meeting.  The end result was we agreed to participate in the BRACA testing to see if we have the gene that predisposed her to cancer.  After all, there’s not a lot of people with breast cancer still in their 30’s so we were pretty much a given when we walked in.  And it would give us a little closure knowing what caused the derailment of our lives and dropped us flat in the middle of Cancerland…did I ever tell you how much I hate cancer?  
     We're at treatment number 10 with 2 more of the Taxol before we move onto to the triple combo regimen.  After we hit the lab on the 2d floor, we took off upstairs to get back on the chemo roller coaster and really thought it would be easier with the two week break.  We were wrong.

Treatments Postponed

     The New Year celebrations came and went.  We spent it on our back patio in our little corner of the golf course, watching the neighbors across the green ring in the new year with a large party that continued early into the morning.  We thought about all of the places we’d rather be and wondered when the pain was going to subside.  

     So on this Friday morning we met with our good doctor and after he examined Amy he decided to cancel what would have been our 10^th of 12 scheduled Taxol treatments and give her another week to recover.  The pain in her hands and feet are almost unbearable at times.  I woke up the night before and could hear what I thought was the dog wanting to go out; instead, it was Amy moaning in her sleep.  A sleep that only lasted a couple of hours and was interrupted by the pressure on her joints and back.  We were terrified to leave without our weekly treatment.  But as our Oncologist explained, if the treatments are worse than the sickness, some changes have to be made.  

     He didn’t have to tell us twice.  He was probably still writing notes in our chart when he noticed we were gone; I honestly couldn’t tell you, we didn’t wait around to see.