Day 300 | Last chemo-less day for 169

Starting Xeloda | Oral Chemo

Today's my last chemo-less day for the next 169 days. 

Well, that's sort of true. With Xeloda, oral chemo, the next stop on the cancer train...it's two weeks "on" (actively taking pills), one week "off" (allowing your body to recover) x 8 cycles. 

So, I'll be in treatment for the next 169 days.

It will take me to 15 March if everything goes well. I'm assuming there will be some sort of delay, so I'm mentally preparing to be in treatment until April.

Last night, we had a Last Supper, with champagne, beef wellington, cheesy cauliflower, potatoes, chocolate covered berries, and lemon tarte. 

Return of Hair!

As you can see, my hair is returning. It feels pretty nice to not have a constant breeze up there. =)

End of Radiation

The wound team at work (and my Google-loving husband) helped me treat my neck wounds. They are mostly healed now. It's amazing the difference (the bottom picture isn't even the worst of it).

On Radiation, I never had fatigue. Just burns. and Just on my neck. So, even though the treatment has been daily, it feels like I've been on cancer-acation. It'll be a bummer to head back to treatment tomorrow. 

More on X

Xeloda details here. It can take the 5 year survival rate for TNBC from 70ish% to 80ish% (info here). It IS chemo, but it's taken through a pill. If I handle the pill, I need to wash my hands immediately and SHOULD NOT touch G. Because, chemo = poison. Even in a pill.

I will take four pills in the morning. Four at night. Both should be with food. You should not drink on oral chemo (as it is processed by your liver). 

Known side effects:

• Hand/foot pain/blistering in 75-85% of patients
• Diarrhea
• Mouth sores
• Vomiting 
• Reduced appetite

Important to note that it shouldn't impact my counts as much as IV chemo, which is good because my WBC still is hovering around 2, which (according to my care team), "is not surprising given the levels and length of time I had chemo."

So, in summary, Xeloda or "X" doesn't sound swell, but if it's 169 days for the rest of my life, I'd do it every.time. 

Day 286 | "Those Women"

Suddenly, I am one of "those women".

Women I looked at sheepishly in the waiting room. Wondering if I'd be one of them - with their hair regrowing. Women who looked strong and healthy...not weak and bald - how I felt through most of chemo.

Though I'm here (at the oncologist) today to discuss the next part in my plan - six months of oral chemo - I feel a renewed sense of hope that I may be one of the women here in few years, with longer hair....giving others hope that they will join the hairclub again.

I can't believe how time moves. The 286 days between 12.02.16 (my diagnosis day) and today feels in some ways like 286 weeks, and in others .... like 286 seconds.

Today, I am stronger, though slightly more burned, than when I last saw my oncologist. 

Today, ....

- I have a healthy four month old, instead of a swelling belly. 

- I have more rising hope than rising fear. (I still have fear, but it's less allconsuming). 

- I'm still happily coupled (oh, and yah, and now, we're all married and stuff). 

- I still have a rock strong foundation - one of the best support systems I've seen. 

- I'm back at work, worrying about normal things - like spreadsheets, daycare, and ....did I leave money for the cleaning ladies? (No, but really, did I?) 

Cancer worry isn't gone. I still use my sick passport more than my healthy one.* I still see doctors more than friends. I still ache for a day when cancer worry doesn't bog down my mind on an otherwise idle Tuesday. 

But, now, I think that day could be a possibility.

I think it could be soon when I forget about the cancer...for an hour. A day. A week .... well, actually, I can't imagine a time when I'll forget about the cancer for a week. 

For now, I'll take the downshift from being a full time patient to part time. Allowing me to spend time and mental energy doing other mundane things....Like worrying about paying the cleaning ladies.

Today, I signed up to be a mentor to other women going through this cancery hell. I can coach them, like others before me coached me (looking at you - KACM crew.)

So - Here we go. 6 more radiations and 6 months of xeloda (oral chemo) - in a trade for hopefully the rest of my life.

*From Susan Sontag's Illness as a Methaphor, "Illness is the night-side of life, a more onerous citizenship. Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use only the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place."

Wow! - Hair!! Eyebrows!! & Lashes!! (and radiation burns)