Wait For The Drop

Life is a roller coaster. And I’m pretty sure that after a few years of living and reacting to the world of COVID-19 we’re all well aware of this by now. We’ve faced and feared and fought and maybe even embraced the ups and downs of the unknown. But I guess the question is do you put your hands up, while the click-click-click of the coaster climbs to its highest point and embrace the terror of the drop and the upside downy loop that life throws at you or do you shut your eyes tight against the reality of the moment and know you’ll survive it even if you have to vomit into the closest trash?

When it comes to rollercoasters, I’m definitely the eyes closed cursing the mo-fo that conned me into strapping my meat suit to a little cart that flings us all over the Gdamn place but when it comes to life, I think I am and really, really, really wanna be the hands up “let ‘er rip” wait for the drop kinda person. And generally, I am, but this whole cancer journey is really testing my “open your arms to the universe”,” there are no wrong decisions” and “everything is happening FOR you” bumper stickers. Because while there are no wrong decisions, and I totally do believe that….when you have to choose between two roads diverging in a yellow wood….it certainly feels like there might be a better decision. A wiser, more fun, more successful choice. Something a little chiller than chemo drips and radiation and a little more guaranteed than mushroom extract and a tub of turmeric. But maybe that’s it, life isn’t chill and nothing is guaranteed and that’s what makes it fun or keeps us present? So let’s put our hands UP, commit to the drop and laugh through the terror of this ride together. Because I ain’t riding this thing alone.

How we roll: Jen Sherowski, terrified me and Ross Powers rollercoastering it up in Vegas way back.

On that note, and really this should be at the top of this post because it is at the top of my mind every single day – the love is real. I am floored by the love and support flowing in from friends and family and the posse of women who have walked this path. Also, I scored in the husband department, Cairo has given me space and support and has turned into a cancer stenographer, taking copious notes so I can listen in real-time and process post-appointment. Also, he’s just the most awesome human. But we already knew that. 

Nuts + Bolts for my fellow doomscrollers: 

Tumor was removed along with 5 lymph nodes (they thought they took 2 but a few extras were wound in there). 

All margins were clear. YAY. 

Treatment to follow: Options include 12 weeks weekly chemo, 6-12 months Herceptin, 4 weeks Radiation, Tamoxifen. Or supplements, veggies and fasting. Or a combo of both.

Lymph node scar is much bigger than expected and swollen like an empanada. (all “normal”) Recovery of the port implant felt like I caught a heel side edge to flat for about a week. All the whiplash none of the fun.

Things That Have Surprised Me:

The Port: Described by all in the medical field as a “quarter” sized button just under your skin to make receiving chemo easier on the viens (nurses) and you. That you won’t even notice. Reality: Size of a silver dollar in circumference and as thick as a stack of quarters, like many dollars worth – more like a commemorative plate than a quarter. Also…a plastic fucking straw goes up the vein in your neck and it felt like I caught my heelside edge for 5 days post-surgery. All the whiplash. This straw you can also feel this when swallowing, turning your head, and sleeping at least for the first week or so…..this has all passed 2.5 weeks. 

Lumpectomy: Jury is still out on the final product. My boobs look basically the same, right now, with the exception of an extremely dense and numb area where the lump was removed. And I was just informed by our radiologist that radiation tightens the boobs so they will look like they are from two different eras. The radiated one will be like 20 and the regs one will have that 40-something sag. Will continue to update and even knowing this, my decision is still the same. Happy I went with the lumpectomy. 

Lymph Node Sentinal Removal: I 100% thought lymph nodes are tiny, the incision would reflect that. Wrong – the cut is about 2-3 inches under the armpit. It is healing fine but on day 5 it started swelling up to the size of an empanada under my arm, felt a bit like I was carrying a football under that arm and it freaked me the fuck out because of Lymphodema. Don’t google it.  Apparently, this is “normal”. 15 days out now and the swelling is still going down. Still ugly as shit but hurts way less.