"Nobody dies from Breast Cancer"

"Nobody dies from Breast Cancer"....

I sort of snapped out of the slide show in my head at that point and stared at my oncologist. I know that's not what she just said, but I'm pretty sure that's what she meant. I actually have no idea what she had said... all I know is that it landed with a thud in my gut.

On my way to the office that day, I was going over some blog ideas that had me chuckling. They had to do with being out of work during all this, asking if I can do my medical paperwork during radiation (because the paperwork and insurance two-step is never ending,) and a funny dialogue about my boob scar.

As you know, up until today, I had a great "low risk" report card. Tumor and it's little cancer following gone... good margins, hormone treatable (other technical things from the cancer biopsy that I never wrote down but are in my favor) all good. I was in the low risk category for recurrence of breast cancer or cancer of any kind. Except for one thing that was "worrisome"... The cancer cells they extracted were dividing much too fast for a low risk diagnosis.

So we did another test: Oncotype DX. what they do is chart the cancer and the chance of a recurrence. It's actually pretty cool as they chart 23 genes in the sample to come up with this rating. MY rating? 23: 15% chance of cancer somewhere else in my body in the next five years. That put me smack in the gray area of the spectrum. If it was 18 or under, it would low risk still and would go along with the rest of the diagnosis. 30 and over would put me at high risk. The temperature of my cancer turns out to be medium rare... and it's my bet.

That was one of the things I was thinking about after she told me my score and explained what it meant. She showed me the sheet, but honestly, I was out at that point. I was having a slide show of the future... liver tests, since my liver was a concern before. Head scarves, because she was "offering" chemo... and worldwide poker.

Having cancer at that moment put in a version one of my favorite shows "worldwide poker series" Here I was, waiting to bet on the big hand of cancer. I had 85% with the cards in my hand and the flop. (okay, I actually don't know if I'm at the river card or not... once again, hard to say with cancer but anyway...)... based on statistics, if I take the next chemo card then no matter what my chances of winning increase to app. 93%.

Seems like an easy choice except what had happened was that I was sort of lulled into thinking I was getting out chemo free. All the signs were there and encouraging. It also meant I wasn't at any calculable risk for cancer anywhere else. I think once my liver was clear I thought I was cool. I was already writing my cancer hero's journey, complete with lessons learned both physical and emotional... strong warrior woman with a head scarf standing on a rock over Hollywood... wait, that friggin scarf should have tipped me off. Regardless, I saw my future in the next month or two.

So, here I am staring at my doctor. And my future is right now and the cancer free is at least six months off and it what hit me in the gut was this: I'm not playing for my boobs right now.

I could be playing for my liver or my kidneys... my tumor was near the chest wall, so I could be playing for my lungs... this was the first time I had felt that the decision I made was directly going to effect my chances of survival. Drinking wheat grass gently says "stop it cancer"... sort of the way I envision a yoga teacher attacking someone and then settling into the "gentle warrior" pose. Chemo says "fuck off and die invader... I may lose some but you are GOING DOWN MUTHA-FUCKER." Big guns.

I wonder what she was thinking as she waited. She's a nice woman, but I can hear in her head : "Geez, I am talking about cancer and you are worrying about your hair?" I focused in and she said that because I'm a young woman (obviously the one thing she hasn't looked at is my age) and that the benefits high out way the risks. And then, when I made my decision she smiled and said that she believes I made the right choice. And she actually looked like she was happy.

So... Chemo it is. 3 week sessions, four times. then radiation. then hormones. Now this my friends should be an adventure!

Next time: Hairstyles of the chemo and "how the hell do I prep for this one?"