For those going, “WTF, isn’t she only 41 or something?” Yes. I am saying the same thing.
For those going, “What the fucking fuck, didn’t she nurse her kids an ungodly amount of time? Isn’t that supposed to be protective?” Yes, I am saying the same thing.
Last Friday when I found out, it felt like a bomb went off in my life. One week later, I’m coping, and it helps a lot that the oncologist is talking about “curing” me, not just “managing” or “treating.” I understand that there are no guarantees, but last weekend I thought I might be in the active process of dying, so this is quite a bit better.
Right now what I really need are positive stories, humor, commiseration, and knowing that people are thinking warm thoughts at me. I feel like the doctors have explained what’s going on and what the best thing to do is very thoroughly and convincingly.
Luckily I have a kickass medical team, including someone on the Duke team that has pioneered HER2+ treatment. (For medical types who are curious, I’ve come up inconclusive on the protein and genetic tests so far.)
I’m in a space where I feel like I’m feeling OK (because I’m comparing it to how I was over the weekend), but then realizing that I’ve lost all planning ability and half of my communication skills, and my OCD rituals are popping out dozens of times a day. I’m trying to give myself time and slack. (And Xanax.)
We aren’t telling the kids till Sunday because of life stuff.
I just scheduled my lumpectomy for 12/29. Holy shit - this is really happening. Then there will be chemo and radiation. I’m scared, but if I get to be with my kids while they grow up, I’ll go through anything.