What a horrible word. I am just now absorbing the fact that since the moment the DCIS became invasive -- and who knows when that was? -- there were probably cancer cells floating throughout my body. I feel so... riddled with it. I feel as if I should be able to stand still and be very quiet and be able to tell - be able to feel where else it is. Is it in my brain, looking for a dusty corner to hide in? Is it in my heart? Or my little toe? If cancer had any pity, it would cause a great deal of localized pain, so one would know when and where it was present. But I suppose we know that it has none.
Today's wisdom from the surgeon is as follows.
The general schedule of the next year for me will be:
Sep - Dec 8 treatments of chemo, given every 2 weeks (hair-free portion of this time: Nov through New Years, during which time I shall wear hand-knit hats made by self, not a wig)
Jan rest
Feb-March 8 weeks of radiation
Next 3 years Mammogram every 6 months to detect possible recurrence
Next 5 years Hormone therapy, probably tamoxifen for a year, then perhaps another drug. Tamoxifen prevents the estrogen in your body from attaching to cancer cells, preventing new growth.
Possibility of surgery to remove more lymph nodes:
Slim but possible. More news of that next week after she consults with her team of oncologists, radiologists, surgeons, etc. The complication here is that the metastasis was in a NON-sentinel node, which is unusual. My assumption is that more surgery will increase the likelihood and severity of lymphedema in my left arm, so I'll skip it, thank you very bloody much.
On the additional cancer found in the margins:
It was non-invasive (DCIS), which is the precursor to invasive. Such findings are common -- the two types co-exist. Reason not to worry: Radiation takes care of this and other presumably present but undetected diseased tissue. "If we could remove every last cancer cell with surgery, there would be no need for radiation."
Also, it was found only in one margin, not in the other three. She is not concerned about it.
Stage two:
Because of the lymph node involvement and the size of the thing (it wound up 2.6 cm as opposed to the 2.0 that showed on the mammogram), it is now stage 2, which means a lower survival rate. Does the difference between 2.0 and 2.6 mean it was fast-growing? No - it's the difference between imaging and pathology.
Menopause:
Considering my age, the chemo will bring on menopause. 'Nuff said.
Green light at the end of this misery:
Nope. Full-body scans are seen as more anxiety-provoking than helpful.
Tomorrow, a visit to the radiation oncologist.
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