Radiation Reality

In this video: Getting through radiation; Tamoxifen looms large on the horizon. More of my videos here.

Triathlon #2

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3-2-1 Blast Off

One more to go!

Tomorrow is my last radiation treatment.

It's disconcerting.

It feels as if the last ten months have taken place on a battlefield. I won't escape for another month or so — my body must acclimate to Tamoxifen and recover from radiation — but I'm beginning to stumble away from the scene of so much suffering and hardship. Though my knees aren't shaking as I imagine they would in that scenario, emotionally there is an equivalent response. I feel vulnerable. I feel relief. I feel exhausted. A long, terrible nightmare is almost over and yet it will never truly end. I will not escape the possibility that I might have to revisit this war zone, that next time I might not escape with my life.

Lately I want treats, treats, and more treats. Almond molasses cookies seemed a good place to start.

Everything I struggled with before, the mundane and every-day challenges of my life pre-cancer, wait in the wings. Angst with work, questions about my contribution in the world, the quality and depth of my relationships, my concerns for the environment, for the oppressed and victimized among us, my desire to make a difference, my perpetual sense of overwhelm that I am not enough, not doing enough, not quickly enough, not thoughtfully enough, not worthy of all the blessings in my life - all that typical stuff we all, let's face it, carry around with us every day. Yours might not sound like mine. The wording and the messages are individualized, but I'd wager we all get to that same place on a regular basis - feeling bad about ourselves.

I'd like to refuse to go there anymore. I'd like to think cancer wiped the slate clean. That I can rewrite my life story from here on out, fearlessly. Unerringly.

View near my house.

But I don't think it's going to work out like that. It'll be be life as usual, with all its unglamorous ups and downs. Occasionally, there will be roll-on-the-floor laughter, heart-swelling tear-jerking milestones of growth and love, and precious moments of transcendental beauty and peace. In between, I'll feel too fat, too slow, too selfish. I'll get bored, frustrated, angry, and sad.

It will be this way for as long as it lasts. Which I hope will be a very long time.

Yesterday's garden harvest.

Updates Galore

1. Word came back, finally, from my medical oncologist: She's okay with me waiting until I'm done with radiation before I start the dreaded Tamoxifen.

2. I don't dread it quite so much as I did a few days ago. And I'm hugely relieved to know I'm not drastically and foolishly risking my life by insisting on waiting a few more days before beginning the five-year ritual of daily pills.

3. My radiation oncologist told me today that it takes a week or so to feel the effects of a radiation treatment. His point? Though I'll be finished in just two more days, I shouldn't expect to feel better right away. In fact, it might still continue to get worse for a little while.

4. Did I mention that just two more radiation treatments remain? Just two more radiation treatments remain! I'll be done on Wednesday.

5. I'm tired.

6. On Thursday I plan to attempt one more triathlon.

7. I've been working on catching up with my backlog of videos. Here are the latest:

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Triathlon Triumph and Tamoxifen Dread

Still dreading it, still nauseous at the thought, still waiting to hear back from the doctor about my desire to wait on the Tamoxifen until I finish radiation.

In this video: A trip to radiation, Millie goes to the vet, and I decide to attempt a triathlon that very day.

My understanding is that most doctors wait, that there is no evidence that it's better to overlap treatments. A long time ago I asked my doctor why she didn't want to wait in my case, expecting some evidence-based response, something about how studies suggest it's better, or at least a scientific explanation of the mechanism of the two approaches, how, theoretically at least, I would benefit from the aggressive approach. Instead I got the usual bug-eyed emphatic frustrated-sounding answer about my age, how big and aggressive my tumor was, about my lymph node involvement. The answer didn't satisfy but it succeeded in shaming me into silence. I wrestled with the question privately, ultimately deciding to go ahead and start the pills without any further protest or push back or struggle for answers.

I tried not to think about it.

Not a good approach.

How did the triathlon go? Watch this video to find out! More of my videos here.

And then I read about the side effects, all the women who quit the drug despite its efficacy because they just can't bear to live with the side effects another day. Statistics show that Tamoxifen is more effective at preventing breast cancer recurrence than chemotherapy. But whether they suffered headaches, sleeplessness, muscle and joint aches, blurred vision, mood swings, bloating, weight gain, sexual dysfunction, constant tiredness, or uterine pressure akin to menstrual cramps, many women just can't bear that daily pill. I read about people counting down the days that make up the five years, and so many testimonials from non-complainers who have put in their time, summing up their experience in exactly the same way: It was a long five years.

I have five more radiation treatments ahead of me. Just five. My doctor returns from her vacation tomorrow. Unless she gives me real, concrete reasons based on science rather than fear, the day after I finish radiation, I plan to do one more triathlon. I will start the clock on my five years of pills after that.

Radiation Begins

In real time, I've got eight more treatments to go but I'm still catching up on a backlog of video. I was supposed to start Tamoxifen today but couldn't bring myself to do it. Just thinking about it makes me queasy. I called my doctor this morning and left a message saying that unless she makes a compelling case that I shouldn't, I'm going to wait until I finish radiation next Wednesday. And, if I'm up for it, complete one more triathlon on Thursday. And recover for three days after that.

I just got a call back - my doctor is on vacation for two more days and my regular oncology nurse is out of the office. The pill bottle is beside me at my desk, glaring at me.

Oops, time to go to radiation! Bye for now.

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Run Bike Swim Eat

Cancer Diary #64, between chemo and radiation. More of my videos here.